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Dataset card Data Studio Files Files and versions Community

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[WP] You are god, but you’re upset that no one has gotten their religion right about you.	“And let his wisdom trickle down to us – his children” the pastor called out, much to the excitement of the young, and the appreciation of the old. But for the love of me did they have the wrong impression. I looked exasperatingly at Julius, silently hoping for some form of guidance. At last he spoke: “I don’t know where they got the idea that you were their father” He chuckled – at least he could see the funny side. “I must have spoken to hundreds, sent thousands of messages to get them off this path, what more do they want”. I couldn’t stop the tiredness from breaking my voice. For thousands of years, humans had performed beautiful and terrible acts in my name because they thought it was please me. They thought simply talking about what I’d done instead of following in my example was enough to send them to heaven, and now Peter on the gates was turning away thousands with a heavy heart. I should probably give him some time off. I’d hired several figures from history to help me decide what to do, and today was the turn of Julius Caesar (He’d only agreed to this after I told him he could be emperor for a week). “S0 what do I do next Julius? I have half a mind to go down there and give them a right talking to” “No no no my lord, you know what humanity is like these days, they’ll lock you up in an silo” Julius pleaded. “I think you mean an asylum Julius. Have those English lessons with Isaac Newton been working properly?”. Julius looked slightly embarrassed at that. He’d only recently been learning English, so we could talk without a translator – the same couldn’t be said for Napoleon, who flat out refused to speak English because of some silly feud he had with the British. “Apologies, I may need to study some more tonight” “I would recommend it. Actually Julius, if you find my son I’ll give the rest of the day off, I could use his particular expertise for this one. Just as long as he isn’t still putting his face in people’s food” “And what of the spirit my lord?”. Ah. The spirit. “Umm… I want to keep this between myself and Jesus, so if you see Cyril just head him off if you can”. It wasn’t that I hated Cyril – but he tended to get a bit preachy in these matters. “Fine my lord, what do you plan to do” Julius asked, with a slight apprehension in his voice. I looked at him, a smile playing across my lips. “I don’t know Julius. Maybe something dramatic”. &#x200B; My first attempt at one of these. Any advice would be appreciated.	I sat in a church, listening to Father Miles give his sermon, the people staring at him attentively and a bit dogmatic for my taste. "I say to thee, take care of your neighbors! As God has commanded you to do so...." Yada. Yada. Yada. I could fall asleep from hearing his voice. Oh me! I could see why the younger generation would be running away from religion. The dogmatic beliefs and the increasingly fearsome social outcasting. &#x200B; By my own words. That have been misinterpreted badly. When that damn boring sermon ends, I'm sure I would see sights of hypocrisy as soon as I leave. The church is beautiful, but that may be the only good thing about it. It is beautiful yet it lacks in every other manner. What's so good about being beautiful, when the inside is hollow!? When that sermon ends, I walk out. Seeing a homeless man by the alley. A sign on his shirt. 'Please help me.'. I took a moment to ready my disappointments, as I watch these same people who sat in the church go to their cars, not minding this homeless man whose clothes are tattered and torn. Malnourished, unkempt and despair in his eyes. Yet, if they only knew who this man was before my eyes. A soldier sent to the frontlines of another country, ordered to kill. Humans have gone to be much much much dissappointing over the years. I tell them to read, they watch television. I tell them to be kind, they go and donate for no good reason. I tell them to not be intrigued by lies, and what do they do? Make all sorts of lies on the internet. Bloody hell. &#x200B; Even I myself am questioning why did I create humanity, why should I allow these humans who seek nothing but their destruction to exist!? I clench my fist with anger, then realizing that I myself have succumbed to such a humanly emotion. Ever since I chose to disguise myself as a human, I see that it gives me a sense of their view. The lust, the desire and the wish.Yet it is just as disturbing when women and men try to poison my drink to sleep with me. Pause, what is this? I see a child walking to the homeless man, a flower and a dollar note in hand. Giving it to the homeless man, who smiles broadly back at him. I see. The young, are still believers of hope and kindness and that despair I had just seen in that old man disappear and his eyes scream hope and joy that he is noticed. Maybe, it would be wise to reform their young to be saints and I believe to do this... I myself must be someone that they can listen to.. &#x200B; I take out my wallet, looking at the name and photo of the man inside. 'Grave Roots.' 'Teaching permit' Then I must teach them what it means to value life. I close the wallet of this Grave Roots persona. A man who was killed in an alley, known by his students as a saint. I gave him a good rest in heaven and well. The men who killed him had the pleasure of meeting Satan and Satan enjoyed himself. &#x200B; "Why are you a teacher, God?" I turn to see a handsome devil, no I mean literally. This is Satan right before me. Smiling and smirking in his black suit. "Satan, you have seen how these people are. The young are impressionable, but they believe in hope and all sorts of things that the adults would call childlike." Satan laughs. "Well, Can't say I am complaining about it. I took over some serial killer who got run over last night. Already let my other demons handle his judgement." "Care to join me on my crusade, I would like to see if the young ones are salvageable." "Eh, sure why not. I can take all these old farts who have committed sins that are as tall as buildings after all." I smile to Satan, or rather. Jimmie 'Stitcher' Rayes. The two of us walk closely as we would like to see how damned or how saintly this earth is. &#x200B;
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I still can't decide if the musket is a joke, or if things are just so weird here that everything I consider odd is in fact some form of "normal." What musket? Oh, just the musket given to me by a god, to arm me as his champion, to do combat with other champions of other gods, to win a tournament and claim my position as a new god. Because some god just got up and left his position. Disappeared without a trace. Or maybe with enough of a trace that the other gods are sure this god "left" and wasn't "killed", because they all seem to agree on that part of the story. They seem to have otherworldly knowledge without any sort of true omniscience, or something. So my musket. Stock is wooden, brown. Barrel is metal, and black. These parts seem to be fused together, not obviously fastened in any way. No trigger. No... what do you call it? The hammer? The part of a revolver that gets cocked back in a movie to show someone means business. And no accessories. No ammo, no gunpowder, no rod to jam that stuff down the barrel. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure those parts are involved. Ultimately this thing looks like a prop, like something that would be seen from far away, or maybe scaled down and given to an action figure, where the viewpoint means the details are not necessary. But somehow this is my weapon. "You still haven't explained how I'm supposed to use this." The god smiled and ushered me into his villa. I sighed and followed, holding the musket in one hand. In the foyer, a pair of servants took our coats. It would later occur to me that they were angles, only not dressed the way they are often depicted in Earthly paintings. It wasn't until he removed his coat that I started to pay attention to my "patron" god, and immediately I noticed his appearance shifting. Before, he was clad in a full-body cloak, and walking with a staff, had a long beard, and had a very wizardly look. As soon as the cloak was shed, he began to... almost shrink. His beard grew shorter, and more neatly trimmed. He no longer appeared to tower over me as a wizard, instead standing before me in a smart suit with tie, a little old-fashioned, the way you see in old photos. He pulled out a pair of spectacles that were chained to his pocket, and as he put them on he briefly looked human. Which was almost as unnerving as being in the presence of a god in the first place. We exited the side of the villa and sat in a pair of chairs in the garden. Drinks were already waiting for us, but I was still too anxious to touch mine. We sat in silence for an unknowable amount of time before the god sighed, and removed his glasses. He turned toward me and began to explain. "At one point in human history, this contest was not necessary. Different pantheons managed their own followers and their own territories, and took care of filling vacancies when gods died or went missing or were otherwise unavailable. Over time, the globalization of the world caused the gods to become a threat as much as a boon for humanity. If you think wars between cultures arguing about the "one true god" are bad now, imagine how things would be if the world were still in a state where that god joined his followers in battle? The gods worked together to mute their presence, and resolved to working behind the scenes to help the world. This lead to many older gods losing power, ceasing to exist as they lost followers. It also caused new gods to come into existence to cover new domains of the modern age, gods that could function without the heavy reliance on mortal followers to grant them power." "So what kinds of gods are there? And which one went missing?" "Some you would expect. The old gods based on planets and moons and stars have been replaced by a pair of gods, one representing our home galaxy, and one representing the exploration of other galaxies. They're both new, as humanity is still observing these things from afar. There's a god of mass commerce. A fellow concerned with shipping crates and distribution centers, as opposed to individual merchants. Thor is still kicking around, but now he's god of electronic technology, and doesn't swing his hammer very often. Most of the monotheistic gods step back to deal with their followers and the afterlife, and don't even get as "hands on" as the rest of us, which isn't much to begin with. There are gods of travel and public health, the sciences, the arts, their quirky daughter who lives to blend the sciences with the arts, gods of communication, some I'm probably overlooking, some I've probably forgotten. We don't exactly get together like this very often. If it's something important in your world, it probably has a god. Many classics still exist, but have evolved and changed. Gods of storms might also serve meteorolgoy, gods of fire might have evolved to take on domains of rocketry, or cleansing forest fires, and at least one god that was once linked to the northern lights fancies himself the god of raves." "Technology, raves, the cosmos, public health, mass commerce? And what god disappeared? What god am I meant to replace?" "As it turns out, those are two different questions. The missing god is one of mass information. I do not know the specifics of how it influences mortal lives, but I know that your people are greatly focused on the possible downfalls of large scale observation and information gathering. People cannot live their lives without being studied, so the information can be used for someone's gain, and I believe humanity is not quite ready for such self-surveillance. So I intend to use an old clause in this competition to allow you to take upon the role of another god. Rather than replace the god of information, I aim to change the pantheon by adding something new." "So who are you? How do you know humanity wants the old god to stay gone when your peers do not? What god do you think I need to become? And how am I supposed to win with this stupid gun?!" "Child, I am a god of storytelling, and I hear humanity through your stories, and how you explore the world. You want this god gone and express that via tales of woe from his influence. I believe the world needs heroes, real heroes again, and I expect you to win the competition to become the first of their kind in the modern age, the god of new heroes. And last, but not least, that gun holds more power than you can possibly fathom at this time. My name is Chekhov, and that is MY gun."	Millenia ago, when the collective imagination of humanity birthed us, we were rabble. One of us was fire, one the cold wind at night. One of us was the heavy blow of a club, one the secretive slip of a knife. I was the laughter of the fox, the giggle of the child. - Our children/our parents... humans, I suppose, are different now. They’ve pulled themselves into the sky on tottering towers of metal and glass. They speak of us less, but they honor us all the same. She who was of fire is now the inferno of creativity. Her brilliance inspires poems and tales, speeches and love letters. He who was night is now the Freudian slip. The unbidden words, the ice in your soul given voice. She who was the club is the heavy beat of chants in a crowd. She is the last cry before the riot. He who was the knife is the double entendre, he’s the smirking voice from the podium. He glad hands with one sentence, undercuts with the other. I am the nursery rhyme. The least changed, the most ignored. I’m a comforting rhythm with a shocking twist. - Our champions stand in a bright room. Humans don’t expect their gods to appear before them and anoint them champions. Even we didn’t expect to need humans so purely, but there’s an opening and we have to fill it. They need our attention—that’s how they’ll win. She of the fire’s champion’s voice is musical, addicting, and her poetry filled with fury. I can see my fellow gods glancing her way from the start. He of the night’s strides across the floor, cracking jokes that make grandmother’s toes curl. His voice chafes as loudly as his jokes, but it works. I can see my fellows yearning to laugh with him, to share their own bawdy tales. - Before our champions took the stage, we were given a few moments to give or gifts, and our words of wisdom. She was nervous. I can’t blame her. And I didn’t help—my pre-teen body, my soft but musical voice. I don’t inspire confidence. Let alone when I hand her a an old musket that doesn’t fire anymore. “You need to win attention over the others. You have several options. You can speak louder, have prettier words, command the stage better. Or, you can be the last one standing. My gift to you is to remember our roots. Sticks and stones WILL break bones, and words can never hurt you.” - When the first champion goes down, it’s oddly quiet. Mine isn’t used to killing, so her first blow makes him stagger, but her second knocks him down. Her third sends a spray of bones and blood and brains onto her jacket. None of the other champions notice—they are enraptured in the gifts of gab and showmanship bestowed upon them. They worship themselves before us. But my fellow gods, oh they notice. They look worried. She takes her position behind the next champion, the second-to-worst presenter, and her first blow knocks him silent to the ground. On she goes, working her way to the loudest and brassiest. Until, in the end, she is the last. I hurdle the railing, fall to the ground, and laugh. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me. You all forgot, and now you regret.” Oh the fury. They are so angry, but they admit, no other champion owns their attention. And she rises, and she knows, it’s all because of me.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I stared in horror at my supposed instrument of power, "A musket? A MUSKET?! Really? The weakest of them can create solar systems, and I have a frickin' musket!?" Nobody paused and stared at me "Look, I can't give you any powers. These other gods are in charge of all sorts of things and have places that serve as the focus of their power. I'm in charge of nothing. My seat of power is Nowhere. I am Nobody. Either way, just trust me, do as I say, and you'll win. The other gods will stampede to give you your new powers. Just trust me on this." "...but...but it's a MUSKET...what am I supposed to do with it?" "Do you think I'd waste my vote? They say I am the weakest, and yet in spite of that, there is nothing I have ever wanted that I did not get. I was here before any of them, and at the very least, my mantle will exist after theirs are gone. Either way, all you must do is walk out there with confidence and remove your weapon from its case when your turn comes...if it looks like you won't win, hold it like you intend to fire it...finger on the trigger." "...and why did the last guy step down? Is this a crappy job? Was he weak?" "Nobody knows why he stepped down...or ceased to be, really. He seemed to like using his power on us...especially we weaker gods, the git. Anyway, it's time for you to go...just trust me!" I gritted my teeth, picked up the gun case, and walked through the door for judging. It was just a black space with the gods sort of floating above us, and there were twenty-odd candidates waiting to be considered. They were all sort of staring at each other and wondering who would walk away with with the gift of godhood. "Candidates for godhood! When you are called, you will announce your sponsor, describe the powers you sponsor gave you, and advise how you will use those powers. Once we have heard all candidates, we will discuss among ourselves and cast our votes." Wait...I didn't know that other stuff! Nobody just told me to walk up and open the gun case! I could hear my heart thudding in my chest. He looked at me and said, "You go first!" I gulped and said, "I...I'm sponsored by Nobody. He said you would all give me my powers, since he couldn't spare any himself...and I don't know what sphere of influence is up for the taking, so I don't know what I'd do..." The gods began to laugh. It was completely without decorum...they cackled, guffawed, hooted, pointed, and snorted. The shame was nigh on tangible...I'd never win this thing...even the creators of the universe think I'm pathetic. Figuring I'd end this as quickly as possible, I opened the gun case and shouldered the musket. The lNobodyer stopped immediately...it was like a light switch. Other than turning to stare at Nobody, they were absolutely still. Nobody smirked. I wasn't sure what to do, so I put my finger on the trigger. A voice whose volume dwarfed that a monster truck rally announcer boomed, "I BREAK PROTOCOL AND MOVE THAT THIS CANDIDATE BE CHOSEN BY ACCLIMATION! NO OTHER CANDIDATES NEED TO BE CONSIDERED!" The gibbering voices of all the other gods rose in agreement...I just stared in shock. I walked around exploring the divine realm. The World Tree was my favorite...after a while, I heard a twig snap behind me. When I turned around, and there stood my sponsor. "HEY!" grin "Good day, m'lord." "Look, call me Bartleby...for now, at least. So, uh...how did this happen? How did I become the leader of this pantheon? I have no experience...and...well, I went in with no powers at all! Now, even though I had no powers and was nominated by the weakest of you...err...us...I'm now the most powerful of us all?! HOW?!" "Well, I gave you all you needed!" "The musket?" "The Focus! Look, you're new at this. That just looked like a musket, but the musket is just a container. How should I put this? Your birth country has a story from its revolution about the 'shot heard round the world'? Well, if The Focus is ever activated, it will trigger 'the shot heard round the omniverse'...Ragnarok...all the gods in all the universes will go to war with each other, and all of us will die. Once your finger touched that trigger, the choice was made. You scared the shit out of them. None of us want that!" "Well, why didn't they just take it?" "I wouldn't let them, and it was one of the rare times where my power was in full force!" "But you're in charge of nothing!" "Yes...I am in charge of Nothing, and my center of power is Nowhere. Where can someone become a god? Nowhere. What do gods come from? Nothing. Where is my center of power? Nowhere. What am I in charge of? Nothing. My power is not absolute, of course, but I could stop their interference, and they knew it. Once they realized that, the choice was made. You're still learning the ropes, but I wanted to cement something in your mind to prevent future misunderstandings. Your predecessor was the most powerful of us, and as powerful as he was, he vanished and could not be found. We looked and looked, and even though... ...Nothing could stop him... ...he was Nowhere to be found... ...and Nobody knows what happened. ...and he seems to have vanished into Nothing. Anyway, if you ever decide to abuse your power or push people around, you might want to ask yourself how weak I really am. He grinned and tipped his hat to me. "Have a good eternity, Bart!" ...and he vanished into...nothing. Edit: Line spacing	(Written on mobile, apologies for formatting) I never really thought much of religion or the theology of our world. Many cultures have a strong basis on these things and thrive because of them. Some start strong and fall hard because of their foundations in religious ways. Theres also been many, many horrid things done for those purposes. Lots of slaughter and plague, even a little bit of filicide mixed in. Now the best part of all of this is living in a day and age well separated from the origination of any religion, and knowing that I don't have to take it so seriously. Its not affecting my life so why worry? Most would say, "Entrance to the afterlife" or "Salvation", but really it's hard to see how church attendance makes me a good person. I donate, hold doors open for people, teach children swim lessons in the summer. I do the best I can to keep my moral compass aligned so I feel my efforts to making the world better help this imbalance. There isn't really a wrong way to practice religion. Or so i thought. KRAKOOOOOOOMMM!!!!! The sky above my house lights up a violent blue before snapping back to darkness. Every window in sight is now a square burned into my eyes that I cannot escape. But as more flashes illuminate the window a figure becomes clear. A small seemingly bald man holding something long. But he seems closer with each flash, moving inhumanely fast without actually moving at all...? One more bright blue flash illuminates the windows but this time hes gone. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, and the air grows tense. Another large crack of lightning overhead and a loud Pop! brings about an unexpected sight. The man is back but this time, hes inside the house. I start back terrified and he reaches out for me. In an instant hes on me, as if he teleported 5 feet forward. His hand is grabbing my shirt now. As my eyes roll slowly up to his face and see what appears to be a middle aged balding man with a kind smile. "Steady yourself child.", he says in a calming and unnervingly disarming voice. In a moment I've been spun round a million times and twisted in half, then returned to a comfortable standing position in a whole new place. A hall of white, not regular white but that crazy bleached white you only see from TV and movies showing a heavenly place. Now the man was standing next to me and holding the long object once more. "Do you know what's going on?",he asks. "Not a fuc-" My throat closes in an instant and I choke on my own esophagus. "None of that boy, you're among the ancients. Now what I need you to understand as quickly as possible is that you are very lucky. I have watched many mortals like you for many years. I knew the position would open soon and needed someone to fill the space. Not having an assistant deity is insanely hard. Anyways, take this and listen up." He hands me what I realize is actually a dirty brown musket. Not unclean but an offputting color. "Alright so this is the key, and I need you to use it. You see you're about to become a god. Lowercase g but it still has its perks. 'Relative omnipotence' is what they call it but basically it's a basic super power starter kit. Telekenisis, flight, teleportation, psychic tendencies. No bending freewill or taking over people's minds but you can read and mildly influence them. Arguments will never bother you again. Now your duties will be described after you star but heres the deal. You gotta load it and shoot yourself on the spot when I say." Before I even get the chance to respond or process everything he just said a loud crystalline ringing sweeps through the hall along with a warm wind. Before it really hits me several dozen thrones of varying sizes appear before me, and sitting in each are humanoid creatures of varying species and levels of ridiculousness. A giant human mouse decked out in thug chains and pimp rings. An elephant man twice the size of a normal elephant holding stacks and stacks of crackers wearing a large fluffy crimson robe. A cross between a bird and a panther wearing Egyptian dressings of gold and rubies. Many more I could barely describe. Now things moved very quickly from here, the creature closest to me asked if I knew what I was here for. Upon seeing the bewilderment in my face as a large kitten with human legs and arms asked me a question, the deity pointed a finger at my head. As a white light spread across her fingertip information started to flow like emotion. Job details? A basic overview of my job as minor god. Wow, the first time a God communicates with me using their mystical powers, it's a fucking job posting. Well I guess that's the day we live in. After the words finish flowing a meeting seems to begin. Many thrones chattering amongst themselves and others blasting off questions to the man next to me, who I figured was also a deity. After all the hubbub was over the man next to me said, "Okay now. No hesitation just go." "Why?" I ask. "You have no choice, now or never, this or you forget everything and wont be a god." And for some reason... I know hes right. He hands me a single pellet and a bag of gunpowder. I pour the powder without thinking and drop the metal ball in. When I hear it clunk down a twinge of fear sets in. I turn to the man to protest and tell him it's insane I cant actually do it when he reaches out and touches my neck. From there pure euphoria spreads down my arms and the thought of moving the gun into position doesn't feel so wrong. I can hardly feel it but I know exactly what's happening. Let's hope for the best ow that I have no choice. As my finger rests on the trigger and my hand holds the barrel to my forehead, the feeling comes back full force. Roght at that moment I know I have to pull. A loud crack and it's all gone. Black. Darkness. I see nothing and hear nothing but ringing. The ringing fades and I hear a voice calling my name. It's the man from before. "Ooopppeeenn" I hear "OooooOopeenn yooouuurrrrr" it echoes. "OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES BOY!!!" I jump as the words explode next to my ear. My eyes snap open and I'm still standing in the hall, the smell of smoke and gunpowder in my nostrils. I turn to the mystery man and hope for good things. He looks positively shocked. "What what's wrong?" He closes his eyes and sighs... "You missed."
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I still can't decide if the musket is a joke, or if things are just so weird here that everything I consider odd is in fact some form of "normal." What musket? Oh, just the musket given to me by a god, to arm me as his champion, to do combat with other champions of other gods, to win a tournament and claim my position as a new god. Because some god just got up and left his position. Disappeared without a trace. Or maybe with enough of a trace that the other gods are sure this god "left" and wasn't "killed", because they all seem to agree on that part of the story. They seem to have otherworldly knowledge without any sort of true omniscience, or something. So my musket. Stock is wooden, brown. Barrel is metal, and black. These parts seem to be fused together, not obviously fastened in any way. No trigger. No... what do you call it? The hammer? The part of a revolver that gets cocked back in a movie to show someone means business. And no accessories. No ammo, no gunpowder, no rod to jam that stuff down the barrel. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure those parts are involved. Ultimately this thing looks like a prop, like something that would be seen from far away, or maybe scaled down and given to an action figure, where the viewpoint means the details are not necessary. But somehow this is my weapon. "You still haven't explained how I'm supposed to use this." The god smiled and ushered me into his villa. I sighed and followed, holding the musket in one hand. In the foyer, a pair of servants took our coats. It would later occur to me that they were angles, only not dressed the way they are often depicted in Earthly paintings. It wasn't until he removed his coat that I started to pay attention to my "patron" god, and immediately I noticed his appearance shifting. Before, he was clad in a full-body cloak, and walking with a staff, had a long beard, and had a very wizardly look. As soon as the cloak was shed, he began to... almost shrink. His beard grew shorter, and more neatly trimmed. He no longer appeared to tower over me as a wizard, instead standing before me in a smart suit with tie, a little old-fashioned, the way you see in old photos. He pulled out a pair of spectacles that were chained to his pocket, and as he put them on he briefly looked human. Which was almost as unnerving as being in the presence of a god in the first place. We exited the side of the villa and sat in a pair of chairs in the garden. Drinks were already waiting for us, but I was still too anxious to touch mine. We sat in silence for an unknowable amount of time before the god sighed, and removed his glasses. He turned toward me and began to explain. "At one point in human history, this contest was not necessary. Different pantheons managed their own followers and their own territories, and took care of filling vacancies when gods died or went missing or were otherwise unavailable. Over time, the globalization of the world caused the gods to become a threat as much as a boon for humanity. If you think wars between cultures arguing about the "one true god" are bad now, imagine how things would be if the world were still in a state where that god joined his followers in battle? The gods worked together to mute their presence, and resolved to working behind the scenes to help the world. This lead to many older gods losing power, ceasing to exist as they lost followers. It also caused new gods to come into existence to cover new domains of the modern age, gods that could function without the heavy reliance on mortal followers to grant them power." "So what kinds of gods are there? And which one went missing?" "Some you would expect. The old gods based on planets and moons and stars have been replaced by a pair of gods, one representing our home galaxy, and one representing the exploration of other galaxies. They're both new, as humanity is still observing these things from afar. There's a god of mass commerce. A fellow concerned with shipping crates and distribution centers, as opposed to individual merchants. Thor is still kicking around, but now he's god of electronic technology, and doesn't swing his hammer very often. Most of the monotheistic gods step back to deal with their followers and the afterlife, and don't even get as "hands on" as the rest of us, which isn't much to begin with. There are gods of travel and public health, the sciences, the arts, their quirky daughter who lives to blend the sciences with the arts, gods of communication, some I'm probably overlooking, some I've probably forgotten. We don't exactly get together like this very often. If it's something important in your world, it probably has a god. Many classics still exist, but have evolved and changed. Gods of storms might also serve meteorolgoy, gods of fire might have evolved to take on domains of rocketry, or cleansing forest fires, and at least one god that was once linked to the northern lights fancies himself the god of raves." "Technology, raves, the cosmos, public health, mass commerce? And what god disappeared? What god am I meant to replace?" "As it turns out, those are two different questions. The missing god is one of mass information. I do not know the specifics of how it influences mortal lives, but I know that your people are greatly focused on the possible downfalls of large scale observation and information gathering. People cannot live their lives without being studied, so the information can be used for someone's gain, and I believe humanity is not quite ready for such self-surveillance. So I intend to use an old clause in this competition to allow you to take upon the role of another god. Rather than replace the god of information, I aim to change the pantheon by adding something new." "So who are you? How do you know humanity wants the old god to stay gone when your peers do not? What god do you think I need to become? And how am I supposed to win with this stupid gun?!" "Child, I am a god of storytelling, and I hear humanity through your stories, and how you explore the world. You want this god gone and express that via tales of woe from his influence. I believe the world needs heroes, real heroes again, and I expect you to win the competition to become the first of their kind in the modern age, the god of new heroes. And last, but not least, that gun holds more power than you can possibly fathom at this time. My name is Chekhov, and that is MY gun."	(Written on mobile, apologies for formatting) I never really thought much of religion or the theology of our world. Many cultures have a strong basis on these things and thrive because of them. Some start strong and fall hard because of their foundations in religious ways. Theres also been many, many horrid things done for those purposes. Lots of slaughter and plague, even a little bit of filicide mixed in. Now the best part of all of this is living in a day and age well separated from the origination of any religion, and knowing that I don't have to take it so seriously. Its not affecting my life so why worry? Most would say, "Entrance to the afterlife" or "Salvation", but really it's hard to see how church attendance makes me a good person. I donate, hold doors open for people, teach children swim lessons in the summer. I do the best I can to keep my moral compass aligned so I feel my efforts to making the world better help this imbalance. There isn't really a wrong way to practice religion. Or so i thought. KRAKOOOOOOOMMM!!!!! The sky above my house lights up a violent blue before snapping back to darkness. Every window in sight is now a square burned into my eyes that I cannot escape. But as more flashes illuminate the window a figure becomes clear. A small seemingly bald man holding something long. But he seems closer with each flash, moving inhumanely fast without actually moving at all...? One more bright blue flash illuminates the windows but this time hes gone. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, and the air grows tense. Another large crack of lightning overhead and a loud Pop! brings about an unexpected sight. The man is back but this time, hes inside the house. I start back terrified and he reaches out for me. In an instant hes on me, as if he teleported 5 feet forward. His hand is grabbing my shirt now. As my eyes roll slowly up to his face and see what appears to be a middle aged balding man with a kind smile. "Steady yourself child.", he says in a calming and unnervingly disarming voice. In a moment I've been spun round a million times and twisted in half, then returned to a comfortable standing position in a whole new place. A hall of white, not regular white but that crazy bleached white you only see from TV and movies showing a heavenly place. Now the man was standing next to me and holding the long object once more. "Do you know what's going on?",he asks. "Not a fuc-" My throat closes in an instant and I choke on my own esophagus. "None of that boy, you're among the ancients. Now what I need you to understand as quickly as possible is that you are very lucky. I have watched many mortals like you for many years. I knew the position would open soon and needed someone to fill the space. Not having an assistant deity is insanely hard. Anyways, take this and listen up." He hands me what I realize is actually a dirty brown musket. Not unclean but an offputting color. "Alright so this is the key, and I need you to use it. You see you're about to become a god. Lowercase g but it still has its perks. 'Relative omnipotence' is what they call it but basically it's a basic super power starter kit. Telekenisis, flight, teleportation, psychic tendencies. No bending freewill or taking over people's minds but you can read and mildly influence them. Arguments will never bother you again. Now your duties will be described after you star but heres the deal. You gotta load it and shoot yourself on the spot when I say." Before I even get the chance to respond or process everything he just said a loud crystalline ringing sweeps through the hall along with a warm wind. Before it really hits me several dozen thrones of varying sizes appear before me, and sitting in each are humanoid creatures of varying species and levels of ridiculousness. A giant human mouse decked out in thug chains and pimp rings. An elephant man twice the size of a normal elephant holding stacks and stacks of crackers wearing a large fluffy crimson robe. A cross between a bird and a panther wearing Egyptian dressings of gold and rubies. Many more I could barely describe. Now things moved very quickly from here, the creature closest to me asked if I knew what I was here for. Upon seeing the bewilderment in my face as a large kitten with human legs and arms asked me a question, the deity pointed a finger at my head. As a white light spread across her fingertip information started to flow like emotion. Job details? A basic overview of my job as minor god. Wow, the first time a God communicates with me using their mystical powers, it's a fucking job posting. Well I guess that's the day we live in. After the words finish flowing a meeting seems to begin. Many thrones chattering amongst themselves and others blasting off questions to the man next to me, who I figured was also a deity. After all the hubbub was over the man next to me said, "Okay now. No hesitation just go." "Why?" I ask. "You have no choice, now or never, this or you forget everything and wont be a god." And for some reason... I know hes right. He hands me a single pellet and a bag of gunpowder. I pour the powder without thinking and drop the metal ball in. When I hear it clunk down a twinge of fear sets in. I turn to the man to protest and tell him it's insane I cant actually do it when he reaches out and touches my neck. From there pure euphoria spreads down my arms and the thought of moving the gun into position doesn't feel so wrong. I can hardly feel it but I know exactly what's happening. Let's hope for the best ow that I have no choice. As my finger rests on the trigger and my hand holds the barrel to my forehead, the feeling comes back full force. Roght at that moment I know I have to pull. A loud crack and it's all gone. Black. Darkness. I see nothing and hear nothing but ringing. The ringing fades and I hear a voice calling my name. It's the man from before. "Ooopppeeenn" I hear "OooooOopeenn yooouuurrrrr" it echoes. "OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES BOY!!!" I jump as the words explode next to my ear. My eyes snap open and I'm still standing in the hall, the smell of smoke and gunpowder in my nostrils. I turn to the mystery man and hope for good things. He looks positively shocked. "What what's wrong?" He closes his eyes and sighs... "You missed."
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"You will thank to me for the musket. Trust me." Said the God of Nothing, Coroledus. "It is a fucking Musket! How can i fight all the superpowered champions with that?!" Said his champion, Michal Golly. "Damn it Mich. Just trust me. You will win it." As the God said that, he disappeared and Michal with his stupid musket appeared at the Arena of Legends. Announcer announced that battle would start in 20 minutes. Thankfully Michal knew how to operate rifles in general and figured his musket wasnt hard to use. Then he saw some of the details on the musket. It was not an ordinary musket. It was Coroledus' most prized artifact before he fell from power and became God of Nothing. Michal heard stories of how powerful he was once upon a time. Then Michal thought he would heard a growl. Suddenly realised the weapon had a will of its own and most importantly. It was hungry... As he took the weapon in his hands, his hands cracked and wounds opened up. Presumably his blood feeding the weapon. Suddenly a lightning came down to Arena and weapon growled once again in his head. Suddenly the weapon turned blood-red and Michal would feel as if weapon's weight decreased. A berserker approached at him to decapitate his head however Michal unconciously aimed at berserker and a red bolt appeared from his twisted Musket, feeding its hunger as it killed berserker, drawing blood from the berserker... It turned out that the musket was in fact, legendary. Contained former power of the God, it could enhance its user's abilities and make an ordinary man a crack shot. Capable of penetrating magic and armor alike, requiring no ammo other than blood of victims or user, even turn into a singularity-throwing cannon of death, the weapon was more than capable of ensuring it's champion's victory. Michal discovered it's abilities one by one during the battle, downing other champions with red bolts of blood and when it came to last champion, suddenly he heard a roar in his head, additional 15 barrels appeared at the front of the gun suddenly and spun up. Ready to barrage the last champion with ultimate vengeance and lust, Michal obeyed the calling of bloodlust in his head and pulled the trigger. Suddenly 16 barrels fired with extreme prejudice and pierced the Champion of Underworld's head as the champion tried to raise fallen champions as his thralls. As the weapon was satisfied, suddenly it healed Michal's wounds and Throne of the Eighteen revealed itself before Michal, all thanks to Coroledus' Fury Musket.	(Written on mobile, apologies for formatting) I never really thought much of religion or the theology of our world. Many cultures have a strong basis on these things and thrive because of them. Some start strong and fall hard because of their foundations in religious ways. Theres also been many, many horrid things done for those purposes. Lots of slaughter and plague, even a little bit of filicide mixed in. Now the best part of all of this is living in a day and age well separated from the origination of any religion, and knowing that I don't have to take it so seriously. Its not affecting my life so why worry? Most would say, "Entrance to the afterlife" or "Salvation", but really it's hard to see how church attendance makes me a good person. I donate, hold doors open for people, teach children swim lessons in the summer. I do the best I can to keep my moral compass aligned so I feel my efforts to making the world better help this imbalance. There isn't really a wrong way to practice religion. Or so i thought. KRAKOOOOOOOMMM!!!!! The sky above my house lights up a violent blue before snapping back to darkness. Every window in sight is now a square burned into my eyes that I cannot escape. But as more flashes illuminate the window a figure becomes clear. A small seemingly bald man holding something long. But he seems closer with each flash, moving inhumanely fast without actually moving at all...? One more bright blue flash illuminates the windows but this time hes gone. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, and the air grows tense. Another large crack of lightning overhead and a loud Pop! brings about an unexpected sight. The man is back but this time, hes inside the house. I start back terrified and he reaches out for me. In an instant hes on me, as if he teleported 5 feet forward. His hand is grabbing my shirt now. As my eyes roll slowly up to his face and see what appears to be a middle aged balding man with a kind smile. "Steady yourself child.", he says in a calming and unnervingly disarming voice. In a moment I've been spun round a million times and twisted in half, then returned to a comfortable standing position in a whole new place. A hall of white, not regular white but that crazy bleached white you only see from TV and movies showing a heavenly place. Now the man was standing next to me and holding the long object once more. "Do you know what's going on?",he asks. "Not a fuc-" My throat closes in an instant and I choke on my own esophagus. "None of that boy, you're among the ancients. Now what I need you to understand as quickly as possible is that you are very lucky. I have watched many mortals like you for many years. I knew the position would open soon and needed someone to fill the space. Not having an assistant deity is insanely hard. Anyways, take this and listen up." He hands me what I realize is actually a dirty brown musket. Not unclean but an offputting color. "Alright so this is the key, and I need you to use it. You see you're about to become a god. Lowercase g but it still has its perks. 'Relative omnipotence' is what they call it but basically it's a basic super power starter kit. Telekenisis, flight, teleportation, psychic tendencies. No bending freewill or taking over people's minds but you can read and mildly influence them. Arguments will never bother you again. Now your duties will be described after you star but heres the deal. You gotta load it and shoot yourself on the spot when I say." Before I even get the chance to respond or process everything he just said a loud crystalline ringing sweeps through the hall along with a warm wind. Before it really hits me several dozen thrones of varying sizes appear before me, and sitting in each are humanoid creatures of varying species and levels of ridiculousness. A giant human mouse decked out in thug chains and pimp rings. An elephant man twice the size of a normal elephant holding stacks and stacks of crackers wearing a large fluffy crimson robe. A cross between a bird and a panther wearing Egyptian dressings of gold and rubies. Many more I could barely describe. Now things moved very quickly from here, the creature closest to me asked if I knew what I was here for. Upon seeing the bewilderment in my face as a large kitten with human legs and arms asked me a question, the deity pointed a finger at my head. As a white light spread across her fingertip information started to flow like emotion. Job details? A basic overview of my job as minor god. Wow, the first time a God communicates with me using their mystical powers, it's a fucking job posting. Well I guess that's the day we live in. After the words finish flowing a meeting seems to begin. Many thrones chattering amongst themselves and others blasting off questions to the man next to me, who I figured was also a deity. After all the hubbub was over the man next to me said, "Okay now. No hesitation just go." "Why?" I ask. "You have no choice, now or never, this or you forget everything and wont be a god." And for some reason... I know hes right. He hands me a single pellet and a bag of gunpowder. I pour the powder without thinking and drop the metal ball in. When I hear it clunk down a twinge of fear sets in. I turn to the man to protest and tell him it's insane I cant actually do it when he reaches out and touches my neck. From there pure euphoria spreads down my arms and the thought of moving the gun into position doesn't feel so wrong. I can hardly feel it but I know exactly what's happening. Let's hope for the best ow that I have no choice. As my finger rests on the trigger and my hand holds the barrel to my forehead, the feeling comes back full force. Roght at that moment I know I have to pull. A loud crack and it's all gone. Black. Darkness. I see nothing and hear nothing but ringing. The ringing fades and I hear a voice calling my name. It's the man from before. "Ooopppeeenn" I hear "OooooOopeenn yooouuurrrrr" it echoes. "OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES BOY!!!" I jump as the words explode next to my ear. My eyes snap open and I'm still standing in the hall, the smell of smoke and gunpowder in my nostrils. I turn to the mystery man and hope for good things. He looks positively shocked. "What what's wrong?" He closes his eyes and sighs... "You missed."
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"A musket? I mean, a chain gun I could do something with but... this old thing? What am I supposed to do with this? Smother people in rust??" I'm panicking. Not panicking. I'm damn near hysterical. I've about 20 minutes to fight the rest of the mortals for the prize of immortality, omniscience, control of reality or whatever is gods get these days. (I'm really hoping teleportation, its a bloody pain to get to this... ethereal realm). My sponsor, who insists on calling himself Rudy - he says his real name is just too hard for an A-me-rican to say. I'm not sure whether he's just trolling me by adding the 'me' there but that's how he says it. By this time, i'm gesticulating wildly. I pick up the musket. It's old, like I think it was literally the first gun ever invented old. I'm sure it was quite beautiful when it was new but now even the wood bits have sort of rotten off exposing the skeletal structure of the weapon. The trigger was rusted shut until Rudy put some oil in it. If guns could be undead, this would be the shining example of one. Well it would be if it was shining. I swing towards Old Rudy, the barrel directly point at his little head. His tiny eyes open wide showing the blacks of his pupils. "No point!! Nein!! No point barrel at Rudy!!! " Rudy seems scared, terrified actually. Wonder why. I've never seen him so terrified. To be fair, I've only known him about 2 weeks now. 2 weeks since he chose me to be his representative in Mortal Combat tournament. Ha, Mortal Kombat. Hey, maybe if I win, I can be the God of Computer Games. Oh wait, Gaben already has that title. At least it was Elderitch Antonius. Fuck that guy. Rudy scuttles near me. If I were to compare him to a pop culture icon, I'd say he looks like Yoda. Well not really. His mannerisms are the same though. He carefully lowers the barrel, staring up with me and squints,intensely. "Point barrel at non-friend! Then Shoot shoot!" He mimes aiming and shooting at a target. it's about this time, I'm beginning to think that maybe he isn't the all powerful lord of Death, life, or like some awesome power of nature. "Um, Rudy, buddy.. What did you say you were god of again?" "Rudy? oh, Rudy dist de god of.. how you say in your sprechen.. you know.." He points to the bar. "Oh! awesome! you're a God of Booze! Fuckin' A. This is going to be..." "Cup!" Rudy looked tremendously proud of himself as he remembered the English word for "cup" "Say what?" There's no way there's a culture that has a specific God of... cups.. "Rudy, God of Cups!!! That's right!or Boxes! yes Box box! " "I'm dead, oh God, I'm dead". Before I have the time to properly die of a heart attack, I'm whisked away from the locker room. My mind is a rush,I can't hear myself think. I'm sweating so profusely I think I've created a swimming pool where my feet used to be. Um, WWTRD? What would the Rock do? What would the Rock do? I guess he would act like he knew what he was doing. I've been ushered into the arena. There must be a million people there. Through some, um cough cough, favour found with one of those (greek?) goddess, I've made the quarters without actually fighting. By right, I should be fighting someone really useless. I'm hoping a feminist or one of those other hippies. The crowd roars as I come out. Luckily, since I'm technically in between death and life, I got to choose my body form and I decided to go with that of Thor... movie Thor. Or that sort. Point is I'm super muscular and not the total nerd I totally am not on Earth. "AND THE FINAL QUARTERS OF THE NIGHT!!! MARCUS VON ZUCKERBERG vs..." Damn asshole got my name wrong, There's no Von in my name, I'm not a Nazi... I'm so upset I don't hear who I'm facing. I realise too late that pulling strings, looking like Thor and having all the money in the world isn't enough when you're facing.... Iron Man? oh God, no. "E-LONGGGG MUSSSSSSSKKKKK!!!!!!!" The crowd goes wild as the fan favourite emerges from the other side of the arena. He zips out in a suit that looks like Batman melded with Iron Man. A metallic Devil Bat. Black. I look up towards the walls of the arena where I am. I catch myself on the screen. Gods do I look good. Its like the most handsome I've ever... My thoughts are rudely interrupted by a LASER beam narrow sailing over my head. It singes my manly hair. That's it! This is personal. There's no way this musket is going to do anything. I run around, scouring the battlefield for trinkets. Weapons, anything that can do anything. The musket flies out of my hand as I dodge beam after beam of pure energy. The thunderdome shakes from the power. The masked murderer's flying towards me. I move just in time as a portion of the wall crumbles. Despite the looks, the Thunderdome's walls are nigh unbreakable. Or so I've been told. I grab a hammer that's inside a pile of ashes. Can hardly lift it. I feel power flowing through my veins. Thunder! Lightning! I call it all down upon the Musk. The dome goes as bright as the sun. Everything that wasn't singed before becomes a pile of ash now. Surely that would short out his suit. The Musk is down. I'm right! there's a chip in his suit. I walk towards him. Screw you and your stupid musket, Bob. The black figure stirs as I charge towards him, yelling my lungs out. He turns towards me. Oh God, I made a huge.. huge.. Musk's power isn't his suit at all. It's him... Oh, God the lightning must have super-charged his previous form. Oh God, he's become pure energy. Oh God oh God oh God, he's about to go nuclear. The suit was a containment suit, it wasn't a power suit. How could I have been so stupid.... It's just then as I heroically run in the opposite direction of the bomb that my foot stubs a familiar object. it's the musket! As I, um, duck and embrace the ground. Nope, didn't fall there, I never trip and fall! The stadium is kinda in full panic now as everyone rushes towards the exit. Well, nothing to lose now. I close my eyes and shoot the thing at my opponent. Well at least if I die I... Nothing. No boom. No loud catastrophic universe destroying disaster. just a small plop and there in the middle of the stadium, where he used to stand, I now see a box. A small little box. I later found out that that's what it does. Just collects everything into a flask. Rudy is apparently the God of all containers, cups, flasks, boxes. Oh and apparently, pocket dimensions and all of space. And that's the musket he uses to create or contain any force in the world. Well, when I'm All Father of this town, I'll be sure to promote old Rudy, or known by his long German name of Erwin Rudolf Josef Alexander Schrödinger , to something much higher. Still, I wonder what ever is inside that box....	(Written on mobile, apologies for formatting) I never really thought much of religion or the theology of our world. Many cultures have a strong basis on these things and thrive because of them. Some start strong and fall hard because of their foundations in religious ways. Theres also been many, many horrid things done for those purposes. Lots of slaughter and plague, even a little bit of filicide mixed in. Now the best part of all of this is living in a day and age well separated from the origination of any religion, and knowing that I don't have to take it so seriously. Its not affecting my life so why worry? Most would say, "Entrance to the afterlife" or "Salvation", but really it's hard to see how church attendance makes me a good person. I donate, hold doors open for people, teach children swim lessons in the summer. I do the best I can to keep my moral compass aligned so I feel my efforts to making the world better help this imbalance. There isn't really a wrong way to practice religion. Or so i thought. KRAKOOOOOOOMMM!!!!! The sky above my house lights up a violent blue before snapping back to darkness. Every window in sight is now a square burned into my eyes that I cannot escape. But as more flashes illuminate the window a figure becomes clear. A small seemingly bald man holding something long. But he seems closer with each flash, moving inhumanely fast without actually moving at all...? One more bright blue flash illuminates the windows but this time hes gone. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, and the air grows tense. Another large crack of lightning overhead and a loud Pop! brings about an unexpected sight. The man is back but this time, hes inside the house. I start back terrified and he reaches out for me. In an instant hes on me, as if he teleported 5 feet forward. His hand is grabbing my shirt now. As my eyes roll slowly up to his face and see what appears to be a middle aged balding man with a kind smile. "Steady yourself child.", he says in a calming and unnervingly disarming voice. In a moment I've been spun round a million times and twisted in half, then returned to a comfortable standing position in a whole new place. A hall of white, not regular white but that crazy bleached white you only see from TV and movies showing a heavenly place. Now the man was standing next to me and holding the long object once more. "Do you know what's going on?",he asks. "Not a fuc-" My throat closes in an instant and I choke on my own esophagus. "None of that boy, you're among the ancients. Now what I need you to understand as quickly as possible is that you are very lucky. I have watched many mortals like you for many years. I knew the position would open soon and needed someone to fill the space. Not having an assistant deity is insanely hard. Anyways, take this and listen up." He hands me what I realize is actually a dirty brown musket. Not unclean but an offputting color. "Alright so this is the key, and I need you to use it. You see you're about to become a god. Lowercase g but it still has its perks. 'Relative omnipotence' is what they call it but basically it's a basic super power starter kit. Telekenisis, flight, teleportation, psychic tendencies. No bending freewill or taking over people's minds but you can read and mildly influence them. Arguments will never bother you again. Now your duties will be described after you star but heres the deal. You gotta load it and shoot yourself on the spot when I say." Before I even get the chance to respond or process everything he just said a loud crystalline ringing sweeps through the hall along with a warm wind. Before it really hits me several dozen thrones of varying sizes appear before me, and sitting in each are humanoid creatures of varying species and levels of ridiculousness. A giant human mouse decked out in thug chains and pimp rings. An elephant man twice the size of a normal elephant holding stacks and stacks of crackers wearing a large fluffy crimson robe. A cross between a bird and a panther wearing Egyptian dressings of gold and rubies. Many more I could barely describe. Now things moved very quickly from here, the creature closest to me asked if I knew what I was here for. Upon seeing the bewilderment in my face as a large kitten with human legs and arms asked me a question, the deity pointed a finger at my head. As a white light spread across her fingertip information started to flow like emotion. Job details? A basic overview of my job as minor god. Wow, the first time a God communicates with me using their mystical powers, it's a fucking job posting. Well I guess that's the day we live in. After the words finish flowing a meeting seems to begin. Many thrones chattering amongst themselves and others blasting off questions to the man next to me, who I figured was also a deity. After all the hubbub was over the man next to me said, "Okay now. No hesitation just go." "Why?" I ask. "You have no choice, now or never, this or you forget everything and wont be a god." And for some reason... I know hes right. He hands me a single pellet and a bag of gunpowder. I pour the powder without thinking and drop the metal ball in. When I hear it clunk down a twinge of fear sets in. I turn to the man to protest and tell him it's insane I cant actually do it when he reaches out and touches my neck. From there pure euphoria spreads down my arms and the thought of moving the gun into position doesn't feel so wrong. I can hardly feel it but I know exactly what's happening. Let's hope for the best ow that I have no choice. As my finger rests on the trigger and my hand holds the barrel to my forehead, the feeling comes back full force. Roght at that moment I know I have to pull. A loud crack and it's all gone. Black. Darkness. I see nothing and hear nothing but ringing. The ringing fades and I hear a voice calling my name. It's the man from before. "Ooopppeeenn" I hear "OooooOopeenn yooouuurrrrr" it echoes. "OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES BOY!!!" I jump as the words explode next to my ear. My eyes snap open and I'm still standing in the hall, the smell of smoke and gunpowder in my nostrils. I turn to the mystery man and hope for good things. He looks positively shocked. "What what's wrong?" He closes his eyes and sighs... "You missed."
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"It's... a musket." I couldn't believe what I had in my hands. Well, I couldn't believe where I was, why I was there, who I was with, and what I had in my hands but the first three were of little importance since this tournament was going to happen with me in it regardless if I thought I should participate or not. I inspected the weapon more closely. The muzzle was jagged and flared out, tubes were sprouting in and out of the barrel and some sort of compass has been soldered to the breech. It was ugly, unbalanced and heavier than a dead donkey. "I know it doesn't look like much but trust me, I've been working on this baby for two millennia and I'm pretty sure it's working." Replies Omnia. She was nodding vehemently but her head kept bobbing left and right at the same time, making her look like one of those little figurines people of questionable taste put in their car. I let out the musket with one hand to massage my forehead. I sighed. My life has been a series of failures up until now and now I've been thrown in this mess for no reason nor time to prepare. I'm sure I'll fail, I always fail, and I'll die. Or worse, make a fool of myself. "Why did you even chose me again!?" I ask, a bit more aggressively than I wanted. Omnia yawns. "I told you, you're my most zealous follower! I couldn't have chosen a better avatar than you." "But I never prayed you! I didn't even know you existed up until 30 minutes ago!" The goddess shrugs and her whole body waggles. She looks like she could lose balance at any time. "Well I guess you just didn't realize what you were doing. Won't change from the usual, am I right." I glares at her, split between anger and desperation. She coughs and pushes her long silky white hair away from her face. "Sorry for that." An awkward silence passes by to say hi, uninvited. "Listen, I know it's a lot to process, but have faith. Just aim at your opponent and trust your guts. You've been born to hold this weapon." I was in the middle of interjecting once again when a voice blasted out in the corridor. "Avatar Mikaza-Ol-Erun and Avatar Joe!" My shoulders slumped down and I bit my cheek to not break into tears. Omnia put her hand on my arm and gave me a tired smile. "You can do it. I'm sure of it." She said before letting out yet another loud yawn. It's at this precise moment I became convinced gods could make mistakes. § The arena was nothing but a large empty room paved with white marble tiles. As large as a soccer field, it had no place to run nor hide. 50 meters away from me I could see her: Mikaza-Ol-Erun, my opponent, a beast of a woman, already ready to charge at me. A glowing blue mist was oozing from her back, already taking frightening forms of horror long forgotten. Suddenly a swirl of red light materialized in the center of the arena and took the shape of a cloaked figure. “Avatars, as per the ancient rules of the universe, you’ve been chosen by your respective gods because of your outstanding qualities. You’ll fight each other in the Hall of Judgment until one of you lose the will to fight or death come claim their soul. You are free to use any tactic you may wish as well as the boon bestowed upon you by your sponsor. Through your actions Hall of Judgement will gauge your worthiness to becom…“ The apparition was still talking but I couldn’t focus anymore. Behind them, Mikaza was licking her lips. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. In her open hand was a mist construct of my face distorted by terror and pain. I tightened my grip on my gun until my knuckles turned white. “… since neither of you want to step down, may the fight begin!” “Wait, wha-!” But the cloaked silhouette already disappeared in a cloud of red flames. Mikaza was running at me screaming, leading a ghostly army of misshapen monsters! I took a step back but my shaking legs refused to hold me up. I fell on my back in a pitiful groan. I’m pathetic. I shouldn’t be there. It’s not fair! I tried to calm down my hands in vain. The musket was trembling and smoking in my loose grasp. Great, and I broke this bloody thing when I fall! Still, what other choice did I have? I aimed the best I could at the grinning juggernaut charging me and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I’m going to die like an idiot, sitting on my sorry butt I pulled the trigger again, and again. Still nothing. Already her blue mist was crawling around me. She was only ten meters away. I closed my eyes and tensed my muscles. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this. FUCK THIS LIFE! Suddenly the dial on the breech lightened up and a roar surged through the cannon “HAHA YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! YOU’RE SO DUMB MIKI.” A childish voice resonated against the Hall’s walls. Mizaka wasn’t smiling nor running anymore. A jet of colors gushed out of the gun’s muzzle and splatters against the marble walls, depicting a crying girl, mouth and hands smeared red, holding a ragged doll. “I’M SORRY MIKI, YOU’RE GREAT AND ALL BUT IT’S JUST NOT WORKING OUT FOR ME.” Continued the disembodied voice, taking a more virile tone. The murals were now depicting a young woman, too big and too clumsy for the white summer dress she was wearing. “SUUUURE YOU CAN COME. I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T GET THE INVITATION LIKE EVERYONE ELSE…” Mizaka was standing still now, observing the scenes displayed on the wall. Her eldritch army was dissipating behind her. The voice continued to morph, becoming in turn male or female, young or old, while more images of her life were broadcast for everyone to see. Finally, she fell on her knees, holding her chest. “I give up. Just make it stop.” The dial on the musket turned off and silence returned. Neither of us dared to move. I looked down at the gun I was holding, terrified by what it has done. Suddenly the hooded figure made of light reappeared in the middle of the room and shouted cheerfully: “And the winner of this round is Joe! Avatar of Ines Omnia goddess of-” A second passes “-of ‘those desperate moments at 3AM where you just want to sleep but keep thinking about all the cringiest moments and failures of your life’!”	(Written on mobile, apologies for formatting) I never really thought much of religion or the theology of our world. Many cultures have a strong basis on these things and thrive because of them. Some start strong and fall hard because of their foundations in religious ways. Theres also been many, many horrid things done for those purposes. Lots of slaughter and plague, even a little bit of filicide mixed in. Now the best part of all of this is living in a day and age well separated from the origination of any religion, and knowing that I don't have to take it so seriously. Its not affecting my life so why worry? Most would say, "Entrance to the afterlife" or "Salvation", but really it's hard to see how church attendance makes me a good person. I donate, hold doors open for people, teach children swim lessons in the summer. I do the best I can to keep my moral compass aligned so I feel my efforts to making the world better help this imbalance. There isn't really a wrong way to practice religion. Or so i thought. KRAKOOOOOOOMMM!!!!! The sky above my house lights up a violent blue before snapping back to darkness. Every window in sight is now a square burned into my eyes that I cannot escape. But as more flashes illuminate the window a figure becomes clear. A small seemingly bald man holding something long. But he seems closer with each flash, moving inhumanely fast without actually moving at all...? One more bright blue flash illuminates the windows but this time hes gone. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, and the air grows tense. Another large crack of lightning overhead and a loud Pop! brings about an unexpected sight. The man is back but this time, hes inside the house. I start back terrified and he reaches out for me. In an instant hes on me, as if he teleported 5 feet forward. His hand is grabbing my shirt now. As my eyes roll slowly up to his face and see what appears to be a middle aged balding man with a kind smile. "Steady yourself child.", he says in a calming and unnervingly disarming voice. In a moment I've been spun round a million times and twisted in half, then returned to a comfortable standing position in a whole new place. A hall of white, not regular white but that crazy bleached white you only see from TV and movies showing a heavenly place. Now the man was standing next to me and holding the long object once more. "Do you know what's going on?",he asks. "Not a fuc-" My throat closes in an instant and I choke on my own esophagus. "None of that boy, you're among the ancients. Now what I need you to understand as quickly as possible is that you are very lucky. I have watched many mortals like you for many years. I knew the position would open soon and needed someone to fill the space. Not having an assistant deity is insanely hard. Anyways, take this and listen up." He hands me what I realize is actually a dirty brown musket. Not unclean but an offputting color. "Alright so this is the key, and I need you to use it. You see you're about to become a god. Lowercase g but it still has its perks. 'Relative omnipotence' is what they call it but basically it's a basic super power starter kit. Telekenisis, flight, teleportation, psychic tendencies. No bending freewill or taking over people's minds but you can read and mildly influence them. Arguments will never bother you again. Now your duties will be described after you star but heres the deal. You gotta load it and shoot yourself on the spot when I say." Before I even get the chance to respond or process everything he just said a loud crystalline ringing sweeps through the hall along with a warm wind. Before it really hits me several dozen thrones of varying sizes appear before me, and sitting in each are humanoid creatures of varying species and levels of ridiculousness. A giant human mouse decked out in thug chains and pimp rings. An elephant man twice the size of a normal elephant holding stacks and stacks of crackers wearing a large fluffy crimson robe. A cross between a bird and a panther wearing Egyptian dressings of gold and rubies. Many more I could barely describe. Now things moved very quickly from here, the creature closest to me asked if I knew what I was here for. Upon seeing the bewilderment in my face as a large kitten with human legs and arms asked me a question, the deity pointed a finger at my head. As a white light spread across her fingertip information started to flow like emotion. Job details? A basic overview of my job as minor god. Wow, the first time a God communicates with me using their mystical powers, it's a fucking job posting. Well I guess that's the day we live in. After the words finish flowing a meeting seems to begin. Many thrones chattering amongst themselves and others blasting off questions to the man next to me, who I figured was also a deity. After all the hubbub was over the man next to me said, "Okay now. No hesitation just go." "Why?" I ask. "You have no choice, now or never, this or you forget everything and wont be a god." And for some reason... I know hes right. He hands me a single pellet and a bag of gunpowder. I pour the powder without thinking and drop the metal ball in. When I hear it clunk down a twinge of fear sets in. I turn to the man to protest and tell him it's insane I cant actually do it when he reaches out and touches my neck. From there pure euphoria spreads down my arms and the thought of moving the gun into position doesn't feel so wrong. I can hardly feel it but I know exactly what's happening. Let's hope for the best ow that I have no choice. As my finger rests on the trigger and my hand holds the barrel to my forehead, the feeling comes back full force. Roght at that moment I know I have to pull. A loud crack and it's all gone. Black. Darkness. I see nothing and hear nothing but ringing. The ringing fades and I hear a voice calling my name. It's the man from before. "Ooopppeeenn" I hear "OooooOopeenn yooouuurrrrr" it echoes. "OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES BOY!!!" I jump as the words explode next to my ear. My eyes snap open and I'm still standing in the hall, the smell of smoke and gunpowder in my nostrils. I turn to the mystery man and hope for good things. He looks positively shocked. "What what's wrong?" He closes his eyes and sighs... "You missed."
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I blink. What the fuck just happened? One minute I'm laying in bed, catching up on some youtube videos - and suddenly I'm not anymore... I'm on a couch? It didn't feel like I moved, like anything happened at all, I just suddenly am here now. Everything has a weird kind of feeling to it, it's hard to describe, almost like an aura you could almost see - it just feels off. But, this looks like a normal enough living room. The carpets are nice, this couch is comfortable... There's a man sitting in that recliner over there, is he watching TV? "Hello?" He looks over my way slowly, his slender pale face looked quizzical at first, then his eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah, that was today - right..." He let out an audible sigh and the television went dark in front of him. I just realized, I'm still just in a pair of boxers... not even the kind with a button, stupid open flap ones. He motions to the end of the couch I'm on as his chair turns toward me. "You'll probably need to learn how to shoot that" a gun that resembles a musket is seated next to me, it's got one of those cheap bows from walmart stuck to it - even has the price tag still on the base. 39 cents? How long has that bow been sitting around for? "Uhhh, can I ask why" I'm not so sure I want to know though. "Well, one of the gods has decided he was done and just up and left. Now we gotta have this big battle to see which mortal is suited to become the next god, yadda yadda" "Wait, hold on... no really, yadda yadda? I'm gonna fight against people and it's a 'yadda yadda?' "Well, they don't call me the god of Laziness for nothing" Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into? "God of Laziness?" "Present" "... Okay, first question - why me? "Oh, well a lot of the other gods spent time searching the earth for someone who was suited - someone who would rise to the occasion, painstakingly checking every single... Oh god that just sounded so BORING. I picked you out of a hat." "What?" ...WHAT!?! "I'm kidding! Actually it's a bit much to describe, but I developed a way to speak to the earth itself and listen to what she has to say. It's really handy for when you don't want to do anything but need to know about things on earth" "... are you joking again, orrrr" "Nope, took me 20 years to figure out a way, but it has saved me countless hours since" ...Isn't that kind of amazing in it's own way? I guess that's why he's the GOD of laziness He smiled a bit "She said you were the person I'd get along with best, which is great because the only guy I even liked up here just up and left his seat." "Who was that anyway?" "God of Sex, dude was a FREAK - but he just was too much to handle" Wait, does that mean... "So, I could be the next God of Sex?" He laughed... a lot... and just when he was winding it down, he looked back up at me and he just started laughing even harder. "So, what kind of god would I become?" I asked once he finally quieted down a bit. "I actually don't know," He shrugged slightly "You just kind of know when it happens" That... is not reassuring. "My weapon is a gun, I assume the fights are to the death?" "You assume correctly" "And, can I assume that you all being gods will either protect us or resurrect anyone who dies?" "You don't assume quite as correctly on that one" Ah fuck... "There is some worse news," he continued "I'm kind of bottom of the totem pole up here - so I can't really grant you any 'powers' like superhuman strength, or anything good really... I mean I kind of even had the weapon over there for you on 'auto pick' because I was choosing last and Artemis took for fucking EVER" "Auto pick?" "Yeah, I won't go into details, but basically I let the earth choose the weapon then used a 'stand in' to actually pick it. I came back to watch some more anime" ... I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die fucking horribly, this is awesome. "So, wait a minute - earth chose this for me?" I looked at the gun, it really looks like a musket... "She said something about some of the most lopsided wars in terms of casualties were fought when one side had this weapon" "That sounds like some REALLY flimsy logic" "Yeah, I probably should have been there. Could have at least taken the gist of the advice and gotten you a more modern gun - but hey what can you do? Half these dolts chose to have their 'champions' wield spears and shit, in this day and age. My money is on the Goddess of self-importance, she got a trained hitman - and apparently chose an AR-15 as his weapon. I mean, she may be in the same boat as me in terms of bestowing powers - but she really put some effort into this" I really wish I was back home. "Ah, but don't worry too much. I have a plan, I mean I REALLY do want someone up here who gets me - and Earth said you were a cool dude so I put some effort into this" "And that plan is?" "...Wouldn't you rather get dressed first?" --- After getting dressed and spending a little time in the 'killing fields' learning how to load and fire the musket, I came to the realization that this 'weapon' is definitely going to get me killed... He spent some time explaining the 'plan' - or half-explaining, difficult questions often answered with "Wing it!"... This only reassured me that I am totally screwed. We went back to his house and I found myself in thought, sitting at a table, much too long of one - this thing must be 40 feet long... and this room - the dining room, why is this room so much more elegant than the rest of his house? "I see you are admiring the tasteful decor, yeah I hate it." "... Then why don't you change it?" He just smiled and nodded as he reached for the hot pocket in front of him... I might not have even assumed whatever he was eating was a hot-pocket... but it's resting on the box, he's using the box as a plate... "OH!" he exclaimed, with a mouth full of hotpocket "I almost forgot, the name is John" "... I'm Mark - Mark Jacobs... I'm sure you knew that though... Do you gods have last names?" "Nope, I'm just John. Always has been that way" "I'm not gonna question it, I'm sure you chose that name with great care" "I uh, I don't even remember. It's been so long. At first they had me running this place, let me tell you that was a mess... I don't even want to get into it. But a couple years back I turned that over to some new guy who seemed promising, he left sometime after that though and it's changed hands once or twice. It's too bad, I really liked that guy, went by 'Zeus' I think..." ... I just heard something very troubling. "You used to run... Heaven? ... what do you call this place?" "Close enough, but like I said - I don't want to get into it." "But c'mon, you used to RUN the place, you have to have some special powers or something right? How did you go from-" "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" his eyes took a serious look Oops, hit a nerve... better back it off a bit "Okay, I'm sorry John. You're right, let's just focus on the task at hand" I looked down at the gun I had now resting against my chair, and then forward to the hot pocket John had made for me, it was resting on a paper towel folded over a couple times - the grease soaking through the first layer entirely. I didn't feel so good - eating was definitely out of the question "So, it's a Battle Royale style fight?" "Yeah, Artemis was so insistent on that - she apparently went and saw The Hunger Games in theaters - she's been obsessed since" Of course. "I play a bit of PUBG so the idea has grown on me" And of course. "I know we went over the plan before, like half-assedly glazed over it, but how long will I have to wait? When does the fight begin?" He slowly turned his head toward the clock on the wall. "Well as for how long you have to wait, I packed some provisions in the bag - should make it pass in no time. And for when the fight starts - we got 3 minutes yet" "... I really hope that's another joke" "Yeah, it was" he smiled "It's time now." And again, I'm just here. At least this time, I know where I am. The trees, that river, I'm 350 out from my target area. Time for a hike I guess. I was going to have to make my way along this river, but I stopped to check the bag to see what 'provisions' John had packed for me Backpack contents: Beef Jerky, one pack Water canteen, filled with mountain dew for some reason The 'secret weapon'... Tissues, one box Lotion, one bottle Porno Mags... like 20, seriously most of the weight of this damned bag was paper! I am not going to spend my time like that. Besides, this area is actually tiny, I can't imagine that the wait will be that long. I'd better get to the spot and get deployed. --- (cont.)	(Written on mobile, apologies for formatting) I never really thought much of religion or the theology of our world. Many cultures have a strong basis on these things and thrive because of them. Some start strong and fall hard because of their foundations in religious ways. Theres also been many, many horrid things done for those purposes. Lots of slaughter and plague, even a little bit of filicide mixed in. Now the best part of all of this is living in a day and age well separated from the origination of any religion, and knowing that I don't have to take it so seriously. Its not affecting my life so why worry? Most would say, "Entrance to the afterlife" or "Salvation", but really it's hard to see how church attendance makes me a good person. I donate, hold doors open for people, teach children swim lessons in the summer. I do the best I can to keep my moral compass aligned so I feel my efforts to making the world better help this imbalance. There isn't really a wrong way to practice religion. Or so i thought. KRAKOOOOOOOMMM!!!!! The sky above my house lights up a violent blue before snapping back to darkness. Every window in sight is now a square burned into my eyes that I cannot escape. But as more flashes illuminate the window a figure becomes clear. A small seemingly bald man holding something long. But he seems closer with each flash, moving inhumanely fast without actually moving at all...? One more bright blue flash illuminates the windows but this time hes gone. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, and the air grows tense. Another large crack of lightning overhead and a loud Pop! brings about an unexpected sight. The man is back but this time, hes inside the house. I start back terrified and he reaches out for me. In an instant hes on me, as if he teleported 5 feet forward. His hand is grabbing my shirt now. As my eyes roll slowly up to his face and see what appears to be a middle aged balding man with a kind smile. "Steady yourself child.", he says in a calming and unnervingly disarming voice. In a moment I've been spun round a million times and twisted in half, then returned to a comfortable standing position in a whole new place. A hall of white, not regular white but that crazy bleached white you only see from TV and movies showing a heavenly place. Now the man was standing next to me and holding the long object once more. "Do you know what's going on?",he asks. "Not a fuc-" My throat closes in an instant and I choke on my own esophagus. "None of that boy, you're among the ancients. Now what I need you to understand as quickly as possible is that you are very lucky. I have watched many mortals like you for many years. I knew the position would open soon and needed someone to fill the space. Not having an assistant deity is insanely hard. Anyways, take this and listen up." He hands me what I realize is actually a dirty brown musket. Not unclean but an offputting color. "Alright so this is the key, and I need you to use it. You see you're about to become a god. Lowercase g but it still has its perks. 'Relative omnipotence' is what they call it but basically it's a basic super power starter kit. Telekenisis, flight, teleportation, psychic tendencies. No bending freewill or taking over people's minds but you can read and mildly influence them. Arguments will never bother you again. Now your duties will be described after you star but heres the deal. You gotta load it and shoot yourself on the spot when I say." Before I even get the chance to respond or process everything he just said a loud crystalline ringing sweeps through the hall along with a warm wind. Before it really hits me several dozen thrones of varying sizes appear before me, and sitting in each are humanoid creatures of varying species and levels of ridiculousness. A giant human mouse decked out in thug chains and pimp rings. An elephant man twice the size of a normal elephant holding stacks and stacks of crackers wearing a large fluffy crimson robe. A cross between a bird and a panther wearing Egyptian dressings of gold and rubies. Many more I could barely describe. Now things moved very quickly from here, the creature closest to me asked if I knew what I was here for. Upon seeing the bewilderment in my face as a large kitten with human legs and arms asked me a question, the deity pointed a finger at my head. As a white light spread across her fingertip information started to flow like emotion. Job details? A basic overview of my job as minor god. Wow, the first time a God communicates with me using their mystical powers, it's a fucking job posting. Well I guess that's the day we live in. After the words finish flowing a meeting seems to begin. Many thrones chattering amongst themselves and others blasting off questions to the man next to me, who I figured was also a deity. After all the hubbub was over the man next to me said, "Okay now. No hesitation just go." "Why?" I ask. "You have no choice, now or never, this or you forget everything and wont be a god." And for some reason... I know hes right. He hands me a single pellet and a bag of gunpowder. I pour the powder without thinking and drop the metal ball in. When I hear it clunk down a twinge of fear sets in. I turn to the man to protest and tell him it's insane I cant actually do it when he reaches out and touches my neck. From there pure euphoria spreads down my arms and the thought of moving the gun into position doesn't feel so wrong. I can hardly feel it but I know exactly what's happening. Let's hope for the best ow that I have no choice. As my finger rests on the trigger and my hand holds the barrel to my forehead, the feeling comes back full force. Roght at that moment I know I have to pull. A loud crack and it's all gone. Black. Darkness. I see nothing and hear nothing but ringing. The ringing fades and I hear a voice calling my name. It's the man from before. "Ooopppeeenn" I hear "OooooOopeenn yooouuurrrrr" it echoes. "OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES BOY!!!" I jump as the words explode next to my ear. My eyes snap open and I'm still standing in the hall, the smell of smoke and gunpowder in my nostrils. I turn to the mystery man and hope for good things. He looks positively shocked. "What what's wrong?" He closes his eyes and sighs... "You missed."
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	“........... A musket.” I muttered slightly annoyed “You’ve been given a great power.” Said this odd somewhat feeble old man of a god. He said it as if he was parting wisdom but I’m still filled with hollow hope and trembling with dread. I believed in maybe a god and pretended to know a few others out of respect or avoiding awkward confrontations, but this guy? With a name like Tempus you’d think I’d get something more powerful or at least cool looking. Now I just get to die with an antique given to me by, well...... an antique of a man. No magic, no added strength, not even speed to runaway, just a musket. I had fired a musket before, sure, but it was just to fend off wolves on my uncles farm a few times. Mother hated violence and was livid when she found out, so my few months of practice ended years ago with a harsh grounding. “And when is this tournament?” I asked with great grief . With an almost smug grin he immediately replied, “4 hours, 16 minutes, and 33 seconds.” As if it was common knowledge. “Can I at least practice?” He handed me a bag full of gunpowder and another with bullets. “Of course! Be wary though, as you only have 4 hours, 15 minutes, and 17 seconds left to do so.” My eyes almost rolled so far back into my head I thought I was about to read my own mind. “Practice hard, Champion. You may only get one shot.” He added as I swung the musket over my shoulder to go practice. It wasn’t hard to brush up my skills but I eventually had to take care with my shots, as I started to run out of ammunition. Blasting apples out of trees seemed harmless and a hard enough target. The old man appeared before me right after I spent the last blast on some low hanging fruit. “It’s time!” He shouted holding a finger in the air. “Watch it! I don’t want to get in trouble for shooting a god in the face! A second sooner and I might’ve made my shot! Plus, plus, my apple did I hit the-.” “Of course, Champion! See for yourself!” He gleefully waved his hand to show what was an obliterated apple barely hanging by it’s stem. I caught my breath, now slightly embarrassed I replied, “Oh, hey sorry abo-“ He interrupted me again. “ No time, no time, here is your ammunition and we’re off to the challenge!” Before I could even get another word in he snapped and I was all of a sudden behind a barred gate on the edge of a massive coliseum. Thunderous roars of people and otherworldly beings in the stands almost made it impossible to gather my thoughts and calm down. The heat of the sun cast intense shadows and kicked up hot sand. I tried my best to stare across the way. Sizing up just the few contenders I could see from where I stood I knew I was screwed. There was a man with a fiery rage in his eyes, or maybe it actually was fire, wearing nothing but his rage and a loincloth. Another cage had some monstrous four legged being with tentacles for a face. I couldn’t decide if it’d be more painful to be hit by it or be turned into whatever that thing was. To my shock, his neighbor appeared to be dead in the next gate over. What I assumed used to be a giant was now more of a contorted flesh made rag you’d use to mop up blood. I take it his god didn’t take these small spaces cells into account so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. With thunder and a lightning strike made of every shade of color I’ve seen before hitting center arena, the gates lifted. I panicked and hid in the shadow of my cell. I was so preoccupied with my situation I hadn’t even loaded the musket. I open my bags and- WHAT, one bullet!? This has to be a mistake, this has to be a mistake! Whatever, I loaded it and was pretty prepared to use it on myself but hey, let’s at least watch this fight first. Shrieks of pain, rain of blood splatters, metal clanging, roars of elements shooting across sides of the arena. I didn’t stand a chance, bodies were almost in huge piles now and I wasn’t eager to be added to the list. “How many gods are there?” I muttered to myself. With just a few minutes there was almost silence again. I suddenly heard the roar of the man with fire in his eyes as he hurled flames in all directions. There were a few other champions still alive but surely about to die from intense burns. The tentacled....... dog..... thing, well it didn’t seem phased at all as it leaped to the chest of the fiery man. Things were getting reckless and I was afraid of getting hit with a loose fireball. I’d like to at least not die at the starting line. I crawled my way under a pile of bodies and beings near the center of the arena. I figured this would be the last place anyone would look. As I peered out from the limbs I could see the fight taking place again. The tentacle dog had a good grip on the fiery man’s throat now, he was finally losing blood. Then a nasty rip sound cut through the air, the fiery man had used what must’ve been pure adrenaline and rage to rip the tentacle dog in half. His eyes blared with flames as he walked my way with slow stomps of bloodlust. It was as if he was staring right at me. I twisted and fumbled around for my musket readying the weapon to fire when- THUMP. I flinched with my eyes closed sure that he had found me in the pile. Another THUMP and a tentacles came down from the top of the pile hanging into my face. I wanted to scream but the air had left my lungs. The stomps slowly distances theirselves in sound. I looked through the limbs again to catch a glimpse of death before it took me and I saw the fiery man with a fist in the air looking at the crowds in the stands. They stood patiently quiet, almost horrified, yet no cheer. This obviously drove the fiery man wild as he started to scream and roar at them like in animal pumping his blood soaked fist in the air for validation. This is it, he hasn’t won yet, this is obviously a battle to the death and one contender remains, me. I caught my breath and steadied my barrel. The hot sand was blowing into my eyes so I adjusted the limbs for coverage in my hiding hole of gore. I waited to get a glimpse in the small sandstorm of his rage. I need something to aim for, yet he moved about yelling at his audience in fury. Then his gaze shot over me at the judging beings in the stands behind me and that’s when I saw it, my shot. His eyes flaming a yellowish orange like ripening apples, I caught my breath and let loose my best aimed shot ever. BANG I looked for my target and it was gone, his head, gone. Silence lasted as the fiery man’s body fell to its knees until finally going limp to the ground. Cheer bursted from every angle and shook the ground I laid on. I arose from the pile of death and raised my musket with pride now. Clapping soon followed the cheer as I assume they were impressed just as I was at me being alive. Then I was suddenly standing before the old man by the apple tree looking like a gloating fool, but I didn’t care, I felt more alive then ever. “Well done champion!” His voice rang with pride and I was not as annoyed to hear him this time. “Did I do it? Am I a god now!?” I blurted barely containing myself. “Of course! Why do you think they were cheering?” He asked in that smug way old men speak. “I just, I just didn’t think I’d make it. I mean all I had is this musket. How did, how did you know?” I asked in a prying manner. “I didn’t, that’s all I could conjure. I’m pretty preoccupied with a the times and I knew you had fired a musket before. Plus you’re a decent man compared to the bandits and warriors who were on that battlefield.” He ended his sentence with a warming smile. I didn’t know what to say, “Thanks?” He patted me on the back,” No boy, thank you. You e made me proud and assured no monster would take place in our pantheon. Plus, I get to show them all that old man time is nothing to be laughed at.” I was surprised at his reply and still slightly confused. I pressed further, “Wait, you have the power of time and you gave me a musket and one bullet? Wha- how- are you crazy or just plain mean?” He smirked, “Dear boy, don’t you know Tempus stands for time? You have the powers of time yourself, I just need you to use it right. I couldn’t give you a bunch of bullets to go willy nilly shooting in everything that moved. I needed you to be sure, so that you’d use your power of time.” Still confused I asked, “What power of time do I have?” He smiled at me, reminded me of grandfather in this light, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Timing boy, good timing”	(Written on mobile, apologies for formatting) I never really thought much of religion or the theology of our world. Many cultures have a strong basis on these things and thrive because of them. Some start strong and fall hard because of their foundations in religious ways. Theres also been many, many horrid things done for those purposes. Lots of slaughter and plague, even a little bit of filicide mixed in. Now the best part of all of this is living in a day and age well separated from the origination of any religion, and knowing that I don't have to take it so seriously. Its not affecting my life so why worry? Most would say, "Entrance to the afterlife" or "Salvation", but really it's hard to see how church attendance makes me a good person. I donate, hold doors open for people, teach children swim lessons in the summer. I do the best I can to keep my moral compass aligned so I feel my efforts to making the world better help this imbalance. There isn't really a wrong way to practice religion. Or so i thought. KRAKOOOOOOOMMM!!!!! The sky above my house lights up a violent blue before snapping back to darkness. Every window in sight is now a square burned into my eyes that I cannot escape. But as more flashes illuminate the window a figure becomes clear. A small seemingly bald man holding something long. But he seems closer with each flash, moving inhumanely fast without actually moving at all...? One more bright blue flash illuminates the windows but this time hes gone. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, and the air grows tense. Another large crack of lightning overhead and a loud Pop! brings about an unexpected sight. The man is back but this time, hes inside the house. I start back terrified and he reaches out for me. In an instant hes on me, as if he teleported 5 feet forward. His hand is grabbing my shirt now. As my eyes roll slowly up to his face and see what appears to be a middle aged balding man with a kind smile. "Steady yourself child.", he says in a calming and unnervingly disarming voice. In a moment I've been spun round a million times and twisted in half, then returned to a comfortable standing position in a whole new place. A hall of white, not regular white but that crazy bleached white you only see from TV and movies showing a heavenly place. Now the man was standing next to me and holding the long object once more. "Do you know what's going on?",he asks. "Not a fuc-" My throat closes in an instant and I choke on my own esophagus. "None of that boy, you're among the ancients. Now what I need you to understand as quickly as possible is that you are very lucky. I have watched many mortals like you for many years. I knew the position would open soon and needed someone to fill the space. Not having an assistant deity is insanely hard. Anyways, take this and listen up." He hands me what I realize is actually a dirty brown musket. Not unclean but an offputting color. "Alright so this is the key, and I need you to use it. You see you're about to become a god. Lowercase g but it still has its perks. 'Relative omnipotence' is what they call it but basically it's a basic super power starter kit. Telekenisis, flight, teleportation, psychic tendencies. No bending freewill or taking over people's minds but you can read and mildly influence them. Arguments will never bother you again. Now your duties will be described after you star but heres the deal. You gotta load it and shoot yourself on the spot when I say." Before I even get the chance to respond or process everything he just said a loud crystalline ringing sweeps through the hall along with a warm wind. Before it really hits me several dozen thrones of varying sizes appear before me, and sitting in each are humanoid creatures of varying species and levels of ridiculousness. A giant human mouse decked out in thug chains and pimp rings. An elephant man twice the size of a normal elephant holding stacks and stacks of crackers wearing a large fluffy crimson robe. A cross between a bird and a panther wearing Egyptian dressings of gold and rubies. Many more I could barely describe. Now things moved very quickly from here, the creature closest to me asked if I knew what I was here for. Upon seeing the bewilderment in my face as a large kitten with human legs and arms asked me a question, the deity pointed a finger at my head. As a white light spread across her fingertip information started to flow like emotion. Job details? A basic overview of my job as minor god. Wow, the first time a God communicates with me using their mystical powers, it's a fucking job posting. Well I guess that's the day we live in. After the words finish flowing a meeting seems to begin. Many thrones chattering amongst themselves and others blasting off questions to the man next to me, who I figured was also a deity. After all the hubbub was over the man next to me said, "Okay now. No hesitation just go." "Why?" I ask. "You have no choice, now or never, this or you forget everything and wont be a god." And for some reason... I know hes right. He hands me a single pellet and a bag of gunpowder. I pour the powder without thinking and drop the metal ball in. When I hear it clunk down a twinge of fear sets in. I turn to the man to protest and tell him it's insane I cant actually do it when he reaches out and touches my neck. From there pure euphoria spreads down my arms and the thought of moving the gun into position doesn't feel so wrong. I can hardly feel it but I know exactly what's happening. Let's hope for the best ow that I have no choice. As my finger rests on the trigger and my hand holds the barrel to my forehead, the feeling comes back full force. Roght at that moment I know I have to pull. A loud crack and it's all gone. Black. Darkness. I see nothing and hear nothing but ringing. The ringing fades and I hear a voice calling my name. It's the man from before. "Ooopppeeenn" I hear "OooooOopeenn yooouuurrrrr" it echoes. "OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES BOY!!!" I jump as the words explode next to my ear. My eyes snap open and I'm still standing in the hall, the smell of smoke and gunpowder in my nostrils. I turn to the mystery man and hope for good things. He looks positively shocked. "What what's wrong?" He closes his eyes and sighs... "You missed."
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I stared in horror at my supposed instrument of power, "A musket? A MUSKET?! Really? The weakest of them can create solar systems, and I have a frickin' musket!?" Nobody paused and stared at me "Look, I can't give you any powers. These other gods are in charge of all sorts of things and have places that serve as the focus of their power. I'm in charge of nothing. My seat of power is Nowhere. I am Nobody. Either way, just trust me, do as I say, and you'll win. The other gods will stampede to give you your new powers. Just trust me on this." "...but...but it's a MUSKET...what am I supposed to do with it?" "Do you think I'd waste my vote? They say I am the weakest, and yet in spite of that, there is nothing I have ever wanted that I did not get. I was here before any of them, and at the very least, my mantle will exist after theirs are gone. Either way, all you must do is walk out there with confidence and remove your weapon from its case when your turn comes...if it looks like you won't win, hold it like you intend to fire it...finger on the trigger." "...and why did the last guy step down? Is this a crappy job? Was he weak?" "Nobody knows why he stepped down...or ceased to be, really. He seemed to like using his power on us...especially we weaker gods, the git. Anyway, it's time for you to go...just trust me!" I gritted my teeth, picked up the gun case, and walked through the door for judging. It was just a black space with the gods sort of floating above us, and there were twenty-odd candidates waiting to be considered. They were all sort of staring at each other and wondering who would walk away with with the gift of godhood. "Candidates for godhood! When you are called, you will announce your sponsor, describe the powers you sponsor gave you, and advise how you will use those powers. Once we have heard all candidates, we will discuss among ourselves and cast our votes." Wait...I didn't know that other stuff! Nobody just told me to walk up and open the gun case! I could hear my heart thudding in my chest. He looked at me and said, "You go first!" I gulped and said, "I...I'm sponsored by Nobody. He said you would all give me my powers, since he couldn't spare any himself...and I don't know what sphere of influence is up for the taking, so I don't know what I'd do..." The gods began to laugh. It was completely without decorum...they cackled, guffawed, hooted, pointed, and snorted. The shame was nigh on tangible...I'd never win this thing...even the creators of the universe think I'm pathetic. Figuring I'd end this as quickly as possible, I opened the gun case and shouldered the musket. The lNobodyer stopped immediately...it was like a light switch. Other than turning to stare at Nobody, they were absolutely still. Nobody smirked. I wasn't sure what to do, so I put my finger on the trigger. A voice whose volume dwarfed that a monster truck rally announcer boomed, "I BREAK PROTOCOL AND MOVE THAT THIS CANDIDATE BE CHOSEN BY ACCLIMATION! NO OTHER CANDIDATES NEED TO BE CONSIDERED!" The gibbering voices of all the other gods rose in agreement...I just stared in shock. I walked around exploring the divine realm. The World Tree was my favorite...after a while, I heard a twig snap behind me. When I turned around, and there stood my sponsor. "HEY!" grin "Good day, m'lord." "Look, call me Bartleby...for now, at least. So, uh...how did this happen? How did I become the leader of this pantheon? I have no experience...and...well, I went in with no powers at all! Now, even though I had no powers and was nominated by the weakest of you...err...us...I'm now the most powerful of us all?! HOW?!" "Well, I gave you all you needed!" "The musket?" "The Focus! Look, you're new at this. That just looked like a musket, but the musket is just a container. How should I put this? Your birth country has a story from its revolution about the 'shot heard round the world'? Well, if The Focus is ever activated, it will trigger 'the shot heard round the omniverse'...Ragnarok...all the gods in all the universes will go to war with each other, and all of us will die. Once your finger touched that trigger, the choice was made. You scared the shit out of them. None of us want that!" "Well, why didn't they just take it?" "I wouldn't let them, and it was one of the rare times where my power was in full force!" "But you're in charge of nothing!" "Yes...I am in charge of Nothing, and my center of power is Nowhere. Where can someone become a god? Nowhere. What do gods come from? Nothing. Where is my center of power? Nowhere. What am I in charge of? Nothing. My power is not absolute, of course, but I could stop their interference, and they knew it. Once they realized that, the choice was made. You're still learning the ropes, but I wanted to cement something in your mind to prevent future misunderstandings. Your predecessor was the most powerful of us, and as powerful as he was, he vanished and could not be found. We looked and looked, and even though... ...Nothing could stop him... ...he was Nowhere to be found... ...and Nobody knows what happened. ...and he seems to have vanished into Nothing. Anyway, if you ever decide to abuse your power or push people around, you might want to ask yourself how weak I really am. He grinned and tipped his hat to me. "Have a good eternity, Bart!" ...and he vanished into...nothing. Edit: Line spacing	A great and powerful human hero once said "I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times." &#x200B; I materialised inside the arena, at my feet lay a a simple musket. What use could this be I wondered, but not for long. Across my vision flew a half dozen other mortals, fighting and shooting each other with various powers as they struggled to take them all down. A vigorous punch would send one of them into the dirt, but they would soon be airborn again. A laser would hit another with little more than a scorch mark. Powers of flying kept them airborn, and superior healing kept them alive and fighting. I flexed my muscles, but they seemed no different. I jumped into the air with no avail. My patron God had assured me that I knew everything I needed to know to use any powers I had. I didn't even have superior vision as I squinted up through the hazy air at the maelstrom of activity above. I look down at the musket again. It was already loaded, probably magically. I wrap my ordinary fingers around it, and I can just feel the power radiating from the wood and metal construction. I already knew how to use it from my mortal days, just point and click, so that's what I did. For all the force the musket kicked back with, leaving me on my ass, I expected an ear shattering boom, but I got little more than the bang of a pop-gun. I recovered my wits and looked up to see the fighting had stopped. Lying on the ground was one of my rivals, a young woman, with a hole where her heart should be. Instantly eliminated. Slowly I noticed all eyes turned to me, but luckily my musket didn't need loading. &#x200B; Soon I was the only one still standing. Corpses vanishing slowly, mortals returning where they came from, hopefully regenerated. My God approached me and bowed. "Oh great hero, thank you, I am so proud." "But, how did I win?" I ask. "Simple, while the other gods spread their powers thin across all the different kinds of attributes they could give their avatars, I suspected I only had to put all my power into one weapon. And I wasn't wrong." So I walk high into the Pantheon, the barely-remembered words of a martial arts master tickling the back of my mind.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I still can't decide if the musket is a joke, or if things are just so weird here that everything I consider odd is in fact some form of "normal." What musket? Oh, just the musket given to me by a god, to arm me as his champion, to do combat with other champions of other gods, to win a tournament and claim my position as a new god. Because some god just got up and left his position. Disappeared without a trace. Or maybe with enough of a trace that the other gods are sure this god "left" and wasn't "killed", because they all seem to agree on that part of the story. They seem to have otherworldly knowledge without any sort of true omniscience, or something. So my musket. Stock is wooden, brown. Barrel is metal, and black. These parts seem to be fused together, not obviously fastened in any way. No trigger. No... what do you call it? The hammer? The part of a revolver that gets cocked back in a movie to show someone means business. And no accessories. No ammo, no gunpowder, no rod to jam that stuff down the barrel. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure those parts are involved. Ultimately this thing looks like a prop, like something that would be seen from far away, or maybe scaled down and given to an action figure, where the viewpoint means the details are not necessary. But somehow this is my weapon. "You still haven't explained how I'm supposed to use this." The god smiled and ushered me into his villa. I sighed and followed, holding the musket in one hand. In the foyer, a pair of servants took our coats. It would later occur to me that they were angles, only not dressed the way they are often depicted in Earthly paintings. It wasn't until he removed his coat that I started to pay attention to my "patron" god, and immediately I noticed his appearance shifting. Before, he was clad in a full-body cloak, and walking with a staff, had a long beard, and had a very wizardly look. As soon as the cloak was shed, he began to... almost shrink. His beard grew shorter, and more neatly trimmed. He no longer appeared to tower over me as a wizard, instead standing before me in a smart suit with tie, a little old-fashioned, the way you see in old photos. He pulled out a pair of spectacles that were chained to his pocket, and as he put them on he briefly looked human. Which was almost as unnerving as being in the presence of a god in the first place. We exited the side of the villa and sat in a pair of chairs in the garden. Drinks were already waiting for us, but I was still too anxious to touch mine. We sat in silence for an unknowable amount of time before the god sighed, and removed his glasses. He turned toward me and began to explain. "At one point in human history, this contest was not necessary. Different pantheons managed their own followers and their own territories, and took care of filling vacancies when gods died or went missing or were otherwise unavailable. Over time, the globalization of the world caused the gods to become a threat as much as a boon for humanity. If you think wars between cultures arguing about the "one true god" are bad now, imagine how things would be if the world were still in a state where that god joined his followers in battle? The gods worked together to mute their presence, and resolved to working behind the scenes to help the world. This lead to many older gods losing power, ceasing to exist as they lost followers. It also caused new gods to come into existence to cover new domains of the modern age, gods that could function without the heavy reliance on mortal followers to grant them power." "So what kinds of gods are there? And which one went missing?" "Some you would expect. The old gods based on planets and moons and stars have been replaced by a pair of gods, one representing our home galaxy, and one representing the exploration of other galaxies. They're both new, as humanity is still observing these things from afar. There's a god of mass commerce. A fellow concerned with shipping crates and distribution centers, as opposed to individual merchants. Thor is still kicking around, but now he's god of electronic technology, and doesn't swing his hammer very often. Most of the monotheistic gods step back to deal with their followers and the afterlife, and don't even get as "hands on" as the rest of us, which isn't much to begin with. There are gods of travel and public health, the sciences, the arts, their quirky daughter who lives to blend the sciences with the arts, gods of communication, some I'm probably overlooking, some I've probably forgotten. We don't exactly get together like this very often. If it's something important in your world, it probably has a god. Many classics still exist, but have evolved and changed. Gods of storms might also serve meteorolgoy, gods of fire might have evolved to take on domains of rocketry, or cleansing forest fires, and at least one god that was once linked to the northern lights fancies himself the god of raves." "Technology, raves, the cosmos, public health, mass commerce? And what god disappeared? What god am I meant to replace?" "As it turns out, those are two different questions. The missing god is one of mass information. I do not know the specifics of how it influences mortal lives, but I know that your people are greatly focused on the possible downfalls of large scale observation and information gathering. People cannot live their lives without being studied, so the information can be used for someone's gain, and I believe humanity is not quite ready for such self-surveillance. So I intend to use an old clause in this competition to allow you to take upon the role of another god. Rather than replace the god of information, I aim to change the pantheon by adding something new." "So who are you? How do you know humanity wants the old god to stay gone when your peers do not? What god do you think I need to become? And how am I supposed to win with this stupid gun?!" "Child, I am a god of storytelling, and I hear humanity through your stories, and how you explore the world. You want this god gone and express that via tales of woe from his influence. I believe the world needs heroes, real heroes again, and I expect you to win the competition to become the first of their kind in the modern age, the god of new heroes. And last, but not least, that gun holds more power than you can possibly fathom at this time. My name is Chekhov, and that is MY gun."	A great and powerful human hero once said "I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times." &#x200B; I materialised inside the arena, at my feet lay a a simple musket. What use could this be I wondered, but not for long. Across my vision flew a half dozen other mortals, fighting and shooting each other with various powers as they struggled to take them all down. A vigorous punch would send one of them into the dirt, but they would soon be airborn again. A laser would hit another with little more than a scorch mark. Powers of flying kept them airborn, and superior healing kept them alive and fighting. I flexed my muscles, but they seemed no different. I jumped into the air with no avail. My patron God had assured me that I knew everything I needed to know to use any powers I had. I didn't even have superior vision as I squinted up through the hazy air at the maelstrom of activity above. I look down at the musket again. It was already loaded, probably magically. I wrap my ordinary fingers around it, and I can just feel the power radiating from the wood and metal construction. I already knew how to use it from my mortal days, just point and click, so that's what I did. For all the force the musket kicked back with, leaving me on my ass, I expected an ear shattering boom, but I got little more than the bang of a pop-gun. I recovered my wits and looked up to see the fighting had stopped. Lying on the ground was one of my rivals, a young woman, with a hole where her heart should be. Instantly eliminated. Slowly I noticed all eyes turned to me, but luckily my musket didn't need loading. &#x200B; Soon I was the only one still standing. Corpses vanishing slowly, mortals returning where they came from, hopefully regenerated. My God approached me and bowed. "Oh great hero, thank you, I am so proud." "But, how did I win?" I ask. "Simple, while the other gods spread their powers thin across all the different kinds of attributes they could give their avatars, I suspected I only had to put all my power into one weapon. And I wasn't wrong." So I walk high into the Pantheon, the barely-remembered words of a martial arts master tickling the back of my mind.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I stared in horror at my supposed instrument of power, "A musket? A MUSKET?! Really? The weakest of them can create solar systems, and I have a frickin' musket!?" Nobody paused and stared at me "Look, I can't give you any powers. These other gods are in charge of all sorts of things and have places that serve as the focus of their power. I'm in charge of nothing. My seat of power is Nowhere. I am Nobody. Either way, just trust me, do as I say, and you'll win. The other gods will stampede to give you your new powers. Just trust me on this." "...but...but it's a MUSKET...what am I supposed to do with it?" "Do you think I'd waste my vote? They say I am the weakest, and yet in spite of that, there is nothing I have ever wanted that I did not get. I was here before any of them, and at the very least, my mantle will exist after theirs are gone. Either way, all you must do is walk out there with confidence and remove your weapon from its case when your turn comes...if it looks like you won't win, hold it like you intend to fire it...finger on the trigger." "...and why did the last guy step down? Is this a crappy job? Was he weak?" "Nobody knows why he stepped down...or ceased to be, really. He seemed to like using his power on us...especially we weaker gods, the git. Anyway, it's time for you to go...just trust me!" I gritted my teeth, picked up the gun case, and walked through the door for judging. It was just a black space with the gods sort of floating above us, and there were twenty-odd candidates waiting to be considered. They were all sort of staring at each other and wondering who would walk away with with the gift of godhood. "Candidates for godhood! When you are called, you will announce your sponsor, describe the powers you sponsor gave you, and advise how you will use those powers. Once we have heard all candidates, we will discuss among ourselves and cast our votes." Wait...I didn't know that other stuff! Nobody just told me to walk up and open the gun case! I could hear my heart thudding in my chest. He looked at me and said, "You go first!" I gulped and said, "I...I'm sponsored by Nobody. He said you would all give me my powers, since he couldn't spare any himself...and I don't know what sphere of influence is up for the taking, so I don't know what I'd do..." The gods began to laugh. It was completely without decorum...they cackled, guffawed, hooted, pointed, and snorted. The shame was nigh on tangible...I'd never win this thing...even the creators of the universe think I'm pathetic. Figuring I'd end this as quickly as possible, I opened the gun case and shouldered the musket. The lNobodyer stopped immediately...it was like a light switch. Other than turning to stare at Nobody, they were absolutely still. Nobody smirked. I wasn't sure what to do, so I put my finger on the trigger. A voice whose volume dwarfed that a monster truck rally announcer boomed, "I BREAK PROTOCOL AND MOVE THAT THIS CANDIDATE BE CHOSEN BY ACCLIMATION! NO OTHER CANDIDATES NEED TO BE CONSIDERED!" The gibbering voices of all the other gods rose in agreement...I just stared in shock. I walked around exploring the divine realm. The World Tree was my favorite...after a while, I heard a twig snap behind me. When I turned around, and there stood my sponsor. "HEY!" grin "Good day, m'lord." "Look, call me Bartleby...for now, at least. So, uh...how did this happen? How did I become the leader of this pantheon? I have no experience...and...well, I went in with no powers at all! Now, even though I had no powers and was nominated by the weakest of you...err...us...I'm now the most powerful of us all?! HOW?!" "Well, I gave you all you needed!" "The musket?" "The Focus! Look, you're new at this. That just looked like a musket, but the musket is just a container. How should I put this? Your birth country has a story from its revolution about the 'shot heard round the world'? Well, if The Focus is ever activated, it will trigger 'the shot heard round the omniverse'...Ragnarok...all the gods in all the universes will go to war with each other, and all of us will die. Once your finger touched that trigger, the choice was made. You scared the shit out of them. None of us want that!" "Well, why didn't they just take it?" "I wouldn't let them, and it was one of the rare times where my power was in full force!" "But you're in charge of nothing!" "Yes...I am in charge of Nothing, and my center of power is Nowhere. Where can someone become a god? Nowhere. What do gods come from? Nothing. Where is my center of power? Nowhere. What am I in charge of? Nothing. My power is not absolute, of course, but I could stop their interference, and they knew it. Once they realized that, the choice was made. You're still learning the ropes, but I wanted to cement something in your mind to prevent future misunderstandings. Your predecessor was the most powerful of us, and as powerful as he was, he vanished and could not be found. We looked and looked, and even though... ...Nothing could stop him... ...he was Nowhere to be found... ...and Nobody knows what happened. ...and he seems to have vanished into Nothing. Anyway, if you ever decide to abuse your power or push people around, you might want to ask yourself how weak I really am. He grinned and tipped his hat to me. "Have a good eternity, Bart!" ...and he vanished into...nothing. Edit: Line spacing	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_bellatrixbourbon] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BellatrixBourbon/comments/9ovd45/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) - [/r/u_meowmoewrainbow] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_meowmoewrainbow/comments/9ovsuj/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I still can't decide if the musket is a joke, or if things are just so weird here that everything I consider odd is in fact some form of "normal." What musket? Oh, just the musket given to me by a god, to arm me as his champion, to do combat with other champions of other gods, to win a tournament and claim my position as a new god. Because some god just got up and left his position. Disappeared without a trace. Or maybe with enough of a trace that the other gods are sure this god "left" and wasn't "killed", because they all seem to agree on that part of the story. They seem to have otherworldly knowledge without any sort of true omniscience, or something. So my musket. Stock is wooden, brown. Barrel is metal, and black. These parts seem to be fused together, not obviously fastened in any way. No trigger. No... what do you call it? The hammer? The part of a revolver that gets cocked back in a movie to show someone means business. And no accessories. No ammo, no gunpowder, no rod to jam that stuff down the barrel. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure those parts are involved. Ultimately this thing looks like a prop, like something that would be seen from far away, or maybe scaled down and given to an action figure, where the viewpoint means the details are not necessary. But somehow this is my weapon. "You still haven't explained how I'm supposed to use this." The god smiled and ushered me into his villa. I sighed and followed, holding the musket in one hand. In the foyer, a pair of servants took our coats. It would later occur to me that they were angles, only not dressed the way they are often depicted in Earthly paintings. It wasn't until he removed his coat that I started to pay attention to my "patron" god, and immediately I noticed his appearance shifting. Before, he was clad in a full-body cloak, and walking with a staff, had a long beard, and had a very wizardly look. As soon as the cloak was shed, he began to... almost shrink. His beard grew shorter, and more neatly trimmed. He no longer appeared to tower over me as a wizard, instead standing before me in a smart suit with tie, a little old-fashioned, the way you see in old photos. He pulled out a pair of spectacles that were chained to his pocket, and as he put them on he briefly looked human. Which was almost as unnerving as being in the presence of a god in the first place. We exited the side of the villa and sat in a pair of chairs in the garden. Drinks were already waiting for us, but I was still too anxious to touch mine. We sat in silence for an unknowable amount of time before the god sighed, and removed his glasses. He turned toward me and began to explain. "At one point in human history, this contest was not necessary. Different pantheons managed their own followers and their own territories, and took care of filling vacancies when gods died or went missing or were otherwise unavailable. Over time, the globalization of the world caused the gods to become a threat as much as a boon for humanity. If you think wars between cultures arguing about the "one true god" are bad now, imagine how things would be if the world were still in a state where that god joined his followers in battle? The gods worked together to mute their presence, and resolved to working behind the scenes to help the world. This lead to many older gods losing power, ceasing to exist as they lost followers. It also caused new gods to come into existence to cover new domains of the modern age, gods that could function without the heavy reliance on mortal followers to grant them power." "So what kinds of gods are there? And which one went missing?" "Some you would expect. The old gods based on planets and moons and stars have been replaced by a pair of gods, one representing our home galaxy, and one representing the exploration of other galaxies. They're both new, as humanity is still observing these things from afar. There's a god of mass commerce. A fellow concerned with shipping crates and distribution centers, as opposed to individual merchants. Thor is still kicking around, but now he's god of electronic technology, and doesn't swing his hammer very often. Most of the monotheistic gods step back to deal with their followers and the afterlife, and don't even get as "hands on" as the rest of us, which isn't much to begin with. There are gods of travel and public health, the sciences, the arts, their quirky daughter who lives to blend the sciences with the arts, gods of communication, some I'm probably overlooking, some I've probably forgotten. We don't exactly get together like this very often. If it's something important in your world, it probably has a god. Many classics still exist, but have evolved and changed. Gods of storms might also serve meteorolgoy, gods of fire might have evolved to take on domains of rocketry, or cleansing forest fires, and at least one god that was once linked to the northern lights fancies himself the god of raves." "Technology, raves, the cosmos, public health, mass commerce? And what god disappeared? What god am I meant to replace?" "As it turns out, those are two different questions. The missing god is one of mass information. I do not know the specifics of how it influences mortal lives, but I know that your people are greatly focused on the possible downfalls of large scale observation and information gathering. People cannot live their lives without being studied, so the information can be used for someone's gain, and I believe humanity is not quite ready for such self-surveillance. So I intend to use an old clause in this competition to allow you to take upon the role of another god. Rather than replace the god of information, I aim to change the pantheon by adding something new." "So who are you? How do you know humanity wants the old god to stay gone when your peers do not? What god do you think I need to become? And how am I supposed to win with this stupid gun?!" "Child, I am a god of storytelling, and I hear humanity through your stories, and how you explore the world. You want this god gone and express that via tales of woe from his influence. I believe the world needs heroes, real heroes again, and I expect you to win the competition to become the first of their kind in the modern age, the god of new heroes. And last, but not least, that gun holds more power than you can possibly fathom at this time. My name is Chekhov, and that is MY gun."	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_bellatrixbourbon] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BellatrixBourbon/comments/9ovd45/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) - [/r/u_meowmoewrainbow] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_meowmoewrainbow/comments/9ovsuj/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"You will thank to me for the musket. Trust me." Said the God of Nothing, Coroledus. "It is a fucking Musket! How can i fight all the superpowered champions with that?!" Said his champion, Michal Golly. "Damn it Mich. Just trust me. You will win it." As the God said that, he disappeared and Michal with his stupid musket appeared at the Arena of Legends. Announcer announced that battle would start in 20 minutes. Thankfully Michal knew how to operate rifles in general and figured his musket wasnt hard to use. Then he saw some of the details on the musket. It was not an ordinary musket. It was Coroledus' most prized artifact before he fell from power and became God of Nothing. Michal heard stories of how powerful he was once upon a time. Then Michal thought he would heard a growl. Suddenly realised the weapon had a will of its own and most importantly. It was hungry... As he took the weapon in his hands, his hands cracked and wounds opened up. Presumably his blood feeding the weapon. Suddenly a lightning came down to Arena and weapon growled once again in his head. Suddenly the weapon turned blood-red and Michal would feel as if weapon's weight decreased. A berserker approached at him to decapitate his head however Michal unconciously aimed at berserker and a red bolt appeared from his twisted Musket, feeding its hunger as it killed berserker, drawing blood from the berserker... It turned out that the musket was in fact, legendary. Contained former power of the God, it could enhance its user's abilities and make an ordinary man a crack shot. Capable of penetrating magic and armor alike, requiring no ammo other than blood of victims or user, even turn into a singularity-throwing cannon of death, the weapon was more than capable of ensuring it's champion's victory. Michal discovered it's abilities one by one during the battle, downing other champions with red bolts of blood and when it came to last champion, suddenly he heard a roar in his head, additional 15 barrels appeared at the front of the gun suddenly and spun up. Ready to barrage the last champion with ultimate vengeance and lust, Michal obeyed the calling of bloodlust in his head and pulled the trigger. Suddenly 16 barrels fired with extreme prejudice and pierced the Champion of Underworld's head as the champion tried to raise fallen champions as his thralls. As the weapon was satisfied, suddenly it healed Michal's wounds and Throne of the Eighteen revealed itself before Michal, all thanks to Coroledus' Fury Musket.	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_bellatrixbourbon] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BellatrixBourbon/comments/9ovd45/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) - [/r/u_meowmoewrainbow] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_meowmoewrainbow/comments/9ovsuj/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"A musket? I mean, a chain gun I could do something with but... this old thing? What am I supposed to do with this? Smother people in rust??" I'm panicking. Not panicking. I'm damn near hysterical. I've about 20 minutes to fight the rest of the mortals for the prize of immortality, omniscience, control of reality or whatever is gods get these days. (I'm really hoping teleportation, its a bloody pain to get to this... ethereal realm). My sponsor, who insists on calling himself Rudy - he says his real name is just too hard for an A-me-rican to say. I'm not sure whether he's just trolling me by adding the 'me' there but that's how he says it. By this time, i'm gesticulating wildly. I pick up the musket. It's old, like I think it was literally the first gun ever invented old. I'm sure it was quite beautiful when it was new but now even the wood bits have sort of rotten off exposing the skeletal structure of the weapon. The trigger was rusted shut until Rudy put some oil in it. If guns could be undead, this would be the shining example of one. Well it would be if it was shining. I swing towards Old Rudy, the barrel directly point at his little head. His tiny eyes open wide showing the blacks of his pupils. "No point!! Nein!! No point barrel at Rudy!!! " Rudy seems scared, terrified actually. Wonder why. I've never seen him so terrified. To be fair, I've only known him about 2 weeks now. 2 weeks since he chose me to be his representative in Mortal Combat tournament. Ha, Mortal Kombat. Hey, maybe if I win, I can be the God of Computer Games. Oh wait, Gaben already has that title. At least it was Elderitch Antonius. Fuck that guy. Rudy scuttles near me. If I were to compare him to a pop culture icon, I'd say he looks like Yoda. Well not really. His mannerisms are the same though. He carefully lowers the barrel, staring up with me and squints,intensely. "Point barrel at non-friend! Then Shoot shoot!" He mimes aiming and shooting at a target. it's about this time, I'm beginning to think that maybe he isn't the all powerful lord of Death, life, or like some awesome power of nature. "Um, Rudy, buddy.. What did you say you were god of again?" "Rudy? oh, Rudy dist de god of.. how you say in your sprechen.. you know.." He points to the bar. "Oh! awesome! you're a God of Booze! Fuckin' A. This is going to be..." "Cup!" Rudy looked tremendously proud of himself as he remembered the English word for "cup" "Say what?" There's no way there's a culture that has a specific God of... cups.. "Rudy, God of Cups!!! That's right!or Boxes! yes Box box! " "I'm dead, oh God, I'm dead". Before I have the time to properly die of a heart attack, I'm whisked away from the locker room. My mind is a rush,I can't hear myself think. I'm sweating so profusely I think I've created a swimming pool where my feet used to be. Um, WWTRD? What would the Rock do? What would the Rock do? I guess he would act like he knew what he was doing. I've been ushered into the arena. There must be a million people there. Through some, um cough cough, favour found with one of those (greek?) goddess, I've made the quarters without actually fighting. By right, I should be fighting someone really useless. I'm hoping a feminist or one of those other hippies. The crowd roars as I come out. Luckily, since I'm technically in between death and life, I got to choose my body form and I decided to go with that of Thor... movie Thor. Or that sort. Point is I'm super muscular and not the total nerd I totally am not on Earth. "AND THE FINAL QUARTERS OF THE NIGHT!!! MARCUS VON ZUCKERBERG vs..." Damn asshole got my name wrong, There's no Von in my name, I'm not a Nazi... I'm so upset I don't hear who I'm facing. I realise too late that pulling strings, looking like Thor and having all the money in the world isn't enough when you're facing.... Iron Man? oh God, no. "E-LONGGGG MUSSSSSSSKKKKK!!!!!!!" The crowd goes wild as the fan favourite emerges from the other side of the arena. He zips out in a suit that looks like Batman melded with Iron Man. A metallic Devil Bat. Black. I look up towards the walls of the arena where I am. I catch myself on the screen. Gods do I look good. Its like the most handsome I've ever... My thoughts are rudely interrupted by a LASER beam narrow sailing over my head. It singes my manly hair. That's it! This is personal. There's no way this musket is going to do anything. I run around, scouring the battlefield for trinkets. Weapons, anything that can do anything. The musket flies out of my hand as I dodge beam after beam of pure energy. The thunderdome shakes from the power. The masked murderer's flying towards me. I move just in time as a portion of the wall crumbles. Despite the looks, the Thunderdome's walls are nigh unbreakable. Or so I've been told. I grab a hammer that's inside a pile of ashes. Can hardly lift it. I feel power flowing through my veins. Thunder! Lightning! I call it all down upon the Musk. The dome goes as bright as the sun. Everything that wasn't singed before becomes a pile of ash now. Surely that would short out his suit. The Musk is down. I'm right! there's a chip in his suit. I walk towards him. Screw you and your stupid musket, Bob. The black figure stirs as I charge towards him, yelling my lungs out. He turns towards me. Oh God, I made a huge.. huge.. Musk's power isn't his suit at all. It's him... Oh, God the lightning must have super-charged his previous form. Oh God, he's become pure energy. Oh God oh God oh God, he's about to go nuclear. The suit was a containment suit, it wasn't a power suit. How could I have been so stupid.... It's just then as I heroically run in the opposite direction of the bomb that my foot stubs a familiar object. it's the musket! As I, um, duck and embrace the ground. Nope, didn't fall there, I never trip and fall! The stadium is kinda in full panic now as everyone rushes towards the exit. Well, nothing to lose now. I close my eyes and shoot the thing at my opponent. Well at least if I die I... Nothing. No boom. No loud catastrophic universe destroying disaster. just a small plop and there in the middle of the stadium, where he used to stand, I now see a box. A small little box. I later found out that that's what it does. Just collects everything into a flask. Rudy is apparently the God of all containers, cups, flasks, boxes. Oh and apparently, pocket dimensions and all of space. And that's the musket he uses to create or contain any force in the world. Well, when I'm All Father of this town, I'll be sure to promote old Rudy, or known by his long German name of Erwin Rudolf Josef Alexander Schrödinger , to something much higher. Still, I wonder what ever is inside that box....	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_bellatrixbourbon] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BellatrixBourbon/comments/9ovd45/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) - [/r/u_meowmoewrainbow] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_meowmoewrainbow/comments/9ovsuj/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"It's... a musket." I couldn't believe what I had in my hands. Well, I couldn't believe where I was, why I was there, who I was with, and what I had in my hands but the first three were of little importance since this tournament was going to happen with me in it regardless if I thought I should participate or not. I inspected the weapon more closely. The muzzle was jagged and flared out, tubes were sprouting in and out of the barrel and some sort of compass has been soldered to the breech. It was ugly, unbalanced and heavier than a dead donkey. "I know it doesn't look like much but trust me, I've been working on this baby for two millennia and I'm pretty sure it's working." Replies Omnia. She was nodding vehemently but her head kept bobbing left and right at the same time, making her look like one of those little figurines people of questionable taste put in their car. I let out the musket with one hand to massage my forehead. I sighed. My life has been a series of failures up until now and now I've been thrown in this mess for no reason nor time to prepare. I'm sure I'll fail, I always fail, and I'll die. Or worse, make a fool of myself. "Why did you even chose me again!?" I ask, a bit more aggressively than I wanted. Omnia yawns. "I told you, you're my most zealous follower! I couldn't have chosen a better avatar than you." "But I never prayed you! I didn't even know you existed up until 30 minutes ago!" The goddess shrugs and her whole body waggles. She looks like she could lose balance at any time. "Well I guess you just didn't realize what you were doing. Won't change from the usual, am I right." I glares at her, split between anger and desperation. She coughs and pushes her long silky white hair away from her face. "Sorry for that." An awkward silence passes by to say hi, uninvited. "Listen, I know it's a lot to process, but have faith. Just aim at your opponent and trust your guts. You've been born to hold this weapon." I was in the middle of interjecting once again when a voice blasted out in the corridor. "Avatar Mikaza-Ol-Erun and Avatar Joe!" My shoulders slumped down and I bit my cheek to not break into tears. Omnia put her hand on my arm and gave me a tired smile. "You can do it. I'm sure of it." She said before letting out yet another loud yawn. It's at this precise moment I became convinced gods could make mistakes. § The arena was nothing but a large empty room paved with white marble tiles. As large as a soccer field, it had no place to run nor hide. 50 meters away from me I could see her: Mikaza-Ol-Erun, my opponent, a beast of a woman, already ready to charge at me. A glowing blue mist was oozing from her back, already taking frightening forms of horror long forgotten. Suddenly a swirl of red light materialized in the center of the arena and took the shape of a cloaked figure. “Avatars, as per the ancient rules of the universe, you’ve been chosen by your respective gods because of your outstanding qualities. You’ll fight each other in the Hall of Judgment until one of you lose the will to fight or death come claim their soul. You are free to use any tactic you may wish as well as the boon bestowed upon you by your sponsor. Through your actions Hall of Judgement will gauge your worthiness to becom…“ The apparition was still talking but I couldn’t focus anymore. Behind them, Mikaza was licking her lips. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. In her open hand was a mist construct of my face distorted by terror and pain. I tightened my grip on my gun until my knuckles turned white. “… since neither of you want to step down, may the fight begin!” “Wait, wha-!” But the cloaked silhouette already disappeared in a cloud of red flames. Mikaza was running at me screaming, leading a ghostly army of misshapen monsters! I took a step back but my shaking legs refused to hold me up. I fell on my back in a pitiful groan. I’m pathetic. I shouldn’t be there. It’s not fair! I tried to calm down my hands in vain. The musket was trembling and smoking in my loose grasp. Great, and I broke this bloody thing when I fall! Still, what other choice did I have? I aimed the best I could at the grinning juggernaut charging me and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I’m going to die like an idiot, sitting on my sorry butt I pulled the trigger again, and again. Still nothing. Already her blue mist was crawling around me. She was only ten meters away. I closed my eyes and tensed my muscles. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this. FUCK THIS LIFE! Suddenly the dial on the breech lightened up and a roar surged through the cannon “HAHA YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! YOU’RE SO DUMB MIKI.” A childish voice resonated against the Hall’s walls. Mizaka wasn’t smiling nor running anymore. A jet of colors gushed out of the gun’s muzzle and splatters against the marble walls, depicting a crying girl, mouth and hands smeared red, holding a ragged doll. “I’M SORRY MIKI, YOU’RE GREAT AND ALL BUT IT’S JUST NOT WORKING OUT FOR ME.” Continued the disembodied voice, taking a more virile tone. The murals were now depicting a young woman, too big and too clumsy for the white summer dress she was wearing. “SUUUURE YOU CAN COME. I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T GET THE INVITATION LIKE EVERYONE ELSE…” Mizaka was standing still now, observing the scenes displayed on the wall. Her eldritch army was dissipating behind her. The voice continued to morph, becoming in turn male or female, young or old, while more images of her life were broadcast for everyone to see. Finally, she fell on her knees, holding her chest. “I give up. Just make it stop.” The dial on the musket turned off and silence returned. Neither of us dared to move. I looked down at the gun I was holding, terrified by what it has done. Suddenly the hooded figure made of light reappeared in the middle of the room and shouted cheerfully: “And the winner of this round is Joe! Avatar of Ines Omnia goddess of-” A second passes “-of ‘those desperate moments at 3AM where you just want to sleep but keep thinking about all the cringiest moments and failures of your life’!”	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_bellatrixbourbon] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BellatrixBourbon/comments/9ovd45/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) - [/r/u_meowmoewrainbow] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_meowmoewrainbow/comments/9ovsuj/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	Cameron stared at the musket dangling on a string of gold. It was almost entirely wood, save for a few strips of shiny silver. Two cartoony, golden, almost plastic angel wings were attached near the barrel, like something from a children's toy. She - her name, confusingly - pranced over to the gun, her hazy silhouette bobbing up and down. She, her face manifested as a minimalistic outline, gave Cameron a smile. "Thoughts?" "It, um, what is it?" "Your weapon!" She declared, smile forced wider. "A musket?" Cameron glanced between She and her weapon. "Brandon was bragging about superspeed. Airi can make force fields-" "Well we're on a budget." She grabbed the musket and thrust it into Cameron's arms. "How am I supposed to-" "Hold on, almost forgot the string," She said, snapping her fingers. The golden string unwound from the wooden beam above. A moment later, it whirled around the musket's wings, outlining the feathers. "Looks much better now, eh?" Cameron bit his lower lip. "Yep, way better." "Fantastic, I'm so glad you like it," She said. "Do you know how to shoot a musket?" "I'm a carpenter." "Yeah, yeah, but you could've had, like, a sharpshooting hobby, right?" "No." "Excellent." She paused. "Okay, Cameron, I'm gonna need you to trust me." "Sure." As if he had a choice. "Okay, so, I don't have a gun you can practice with." "Right," Cameron said. "And you can't practice with the musket." "Can't practice with-" Cameron fiddled with his words. "I don't know how to shoot a gun. Aren't-" He paused. "Aren't muskets even more difficult to use than normal?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, definitely. But, um, well you should be fine," She said. "That string is lucky, understand? It'll help you out. Definitely. I spent all my Divinity on it, so it ought to be high quality." Cameron gripped the musket. "Don't worry, it's not like you'll die," She said, waving her hand. "Just pull the trigger once and BAM, you'll win in a jiffy." \# Brandon ran circles around the arena, only visible through brief flashes of light. Much to his sponsor's annoyance, he had decided taunting his enemies was more productive than ending the fight in a moment. "Come on, shoot me! Try it!" Brandon said, laughing. His silhouette flashed around as Cameron tried to take aim. "Just fire!" She called from the side. "Oh, forget it," Cameron muttered. He pulled the trigger, aiming where he last saw Brandon's flash. There was no thunder, bang, or fizz. The wings merely fluttered for a moment before falling off. Brandon stopped to laugh. Cameron glanced at his opponent's sponsor, Orthun. He looked dead serious. "YES!" She cried. Cameron looked to her, finding that she was jumping and waving her arms around, or at least as well as a humanoid haze could. "YES, YES, YES!!" There was a fizz and a pop. A cool breeze brushed against Cameron's right cheek. The wings floated up, then dissolved into black dust. The lights around the arena dimmed. Dirt and dust slowly swirled around Cameron in organized streams, weaving into a cloth-like substance. Frail hands grasped Cameron's shoulders. They were warm, almost comforting. However, Cameron found himself frozen, staring at the wretched, curved blade stuck in the ground in front of him. Its blade was polished, almost reflective as a mirror. Brandon stepped back, afraid. Orthun sighed and shook his head. "HIGH QUALITY!" She shouted, almost taunting, toward Orthun. "Mm, a succession contest?" a terribly bored voice sounded out. "I was called out for this? Oh, how annoying." A frail hand left Cameron's shoulders and snapped its fingers. Brandon turned pale and collapsed. The world blurred for a moment, And Cameron felt dizzy as the Being behind him returned to dirt. Orthun strolled over, slowly clapping. A woman blinked into existence next to Cameron, petite and terribly pale. Her face was freckled and round, and her dress rippled off her into streams of ethereal mist. "See, see, I told you to trust me!" the woman said. Cameron raised an eyebrow. "She?" "No, no," the woman said, waving her hand. "I'm Sheriliaa!" She threw her arm around his shoulders. "I've got a name now because of you! And a body! Oooh, it was worth saving up all those centuries. My candidate finally won!" "Oh, um, oh..." Cameron fell to his knees, head spinning. "I'll be your advisor! Aren't you excited? I can't wait!" "Oh good..." Cameron murmured, fading into unconsciousness. \# Wrote right before bed, sorry for lack of detail.	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_bellatrixbourbon] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BellatrixBourbon/comments/9ovd45/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) - [/r/u_meowmoewrainbow] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_meowmoewrainbow/comments/9ovsuj/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I blink. What the fuck just happened? One minute I'm laying in bed, catching up on some youtube videos - and suddenly I'm not anymore... I'm on a couch? It didn't feel like I moved, like anything happened at all, I just suddenly am here now. Everything has a weird kind of feeling to it, it's hard to describe, almost like an aura you could almost see - it just feels off. But, this looks like a normal enough living room. The carpets are nice, this couch is comfortable... There's a man sitting in that recliner over there, is he watching TV? "Hello?" He looks over my way slowly, his slender pale face looked quizzical at first, then his eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah, that was today - right..." He let out an audible sigh and the television went dark in front of him. I just realized, I'm still just in a pair of boxers... not even the kind with a button, stupid open flap ones. He motions to the end of the couch I'm on as his chair turns toward me. "You'll probably need to learn how to shoot that" a gun that resembles a musket is seated next to me, it's got one of those cheap bows from walmart stuck to it - even has the price tag still on the base. 39 cents? How long has that bow been sitting around for? "Uhhh, can I ask why" I'm not so sure I want to know though. "Well, one of the gods has decided he was done and just up and left. Now we gotta have this big battle to see which mortal is suited to become the next god, yadda yadda" "Wait, hold on... no really, yadda yadda? I'm gonna fight against people and it's a 'yadda yadda?' "Well, they don't call me the god of Laziness for nothing" Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into? "God of Laziness?" "Present" "... Okay, first question - why me? "Oh, well a lot of the other gods spent time searching the earth for someone who was suited - someone who would rise to the occasion, painstakingly checking every single... Oh god that just sounded so BORING. I picked you out of a hat." "What?" ...WHAT!?! "I'm kidding! Actually it's a bit much to describe, but I developed a way to speak to the earth itself and listen to what she has to say. It's really handy for when you don't want to do anything but need to know about things on earth" "... are you joking again, orrrr" "Nope, took me 20 years to figure out a way, but it has saved me countless hours since" ...Isn't that kind of amazing in it's own way? I guess that's why he's the GOD of laziness He smiled a bit "She said you were the person I'd get along with best, which is great because the only guy I even liked up here just up and left his seat." "Who was that anyway?" "God of Sex, dude was a FREAK - but he just was too much to handle" Wait, does that mean... "So, I could be the next God of Sex?" He laughed... a lot... and just when he was winding it down, he looked back up at me and he just started laughing even harder. "So, what kind of god would I become?" I asked once he finally quieted down a bit. "I actually don't know," He shrugged slightly "You just kind of know when it happens" That... is not reassuring. "My weapon is a gun, I assume the fights are to the death?" "You assume correctly" "And, can I assume that you all being gods will either protect us or resurrect anyone who dies?" "You don't assume quite as correctly on that one" Ah fuck... "There is some worse news," he continued "I'm kind of bottom of the totem pole up here - so I can't really grant you any 'powers' like superhuman strength, or anything good really... I mean I kind of even had the weapon over there for you on 'auto pick' because I was choosing last and Artemis took for fucking EVER" "Auto pick?" "Yeah, I won't go into details, but basically I let the earth choose the weapon then used a 'stand in' to actually pick it. I came back to watch some more anime" ... I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die fucking horribly, this is awesome. "So, wait a minute - earth chose this for me?" I looked at the gun, it really looks like a musket... "She said something about some of the most lopsided wars in terms of casualties were fought when one side had this weapon" "That sounds like some REALLY flimsy logic" "Yeah, I probably should have been there. Could have at least taken the gist of the advice and gotten you a more modern gun - but hey what can you do? Half these dolts chose to have their 'champions' wield spears and shit, in this day and age. My money is on the Goddess of self-importance, she got a trained hitman - and apparently chose an AR-15 as his weapon. I mean, she may be in the same boat as me in terms of bestowing powers - but she really put some effort into this" I really wish I was back home. "Ah, but don't worry too much. I have a plan, I mean I REALLY do want someone up here who gets me - and Earth said you were a cool dude so I put some effort into this" "And that plan is?" "...Wouldn't you rather get dressed first?" --- After getting dressed and spending a little time in the 'killing fields' learning how to load and fire the musket, I came to the realization that this 'weapon' is definitely going to get me killed... He spent some time explaining the 'plan' - or half-explaining, difficult questions often answered with "Wing it!"... This only reassured me that I am totally screwed. We went back to his house and I found myself in thought, sitting at a table, much too long of one - this thing must be 40 feet long... and this room - the dining room, why is this room so much more elegant than the rest of his house? "I see you are admiring the tasteful decor, yeah I hate it." "... Then why don't you change it?" He just smiled and nodded as he reached for the hot pocket in front of him... I might not have even assumed whatever he was eating was a hot-pocket... but it's resting on the box, he's using the box as a plate... "OH!" he exclaimed, with a mouth full of hotpocket "I almost forgot, the name is John" "... I'm Mark - Mark Jacobs... I'm sure you knew that though... Do you gods have last names?" "Nope, I'm just John. Always has been that way" "I'm not gonna question it, I'm sure you chose that name with great care" "I uh, I don't even remember. It's been so long. At first they had me running this place, let me tell you that was a mess... I don't even want to get into it. But a couple years back I turned that over to some new guy who seemed promising, he left sometime after that though and it's changed hands once or twice. It's too bad, I really liked that guy, went by 'Zeus' I think..." ... I just heard something very troubling. "You used to run... Heaven? ... what do you call this place?" "Close enough, but like I said - I don't want to get into it." "But c'mon, you used to RUN the place, you have to have some special powers or something right? How did you go from-" "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" his eyes took a serious look Oops, hit a nerve... better back it off a bit "Okay, I'm sorry John. You're right, let's just focus on the task at hand" I looked down at the gun I had now resting against my chair, and then forward to the hot pocket John had made for me, it was resting on a paper towel folded over a couple times - the grease soaking through the first layer entirely. I didn't feel so good - eating was definitely out of the question "So, it's a Battle Royale style fight?" "Yeah, Artemis was so insistent on that - she apparently went and saw The Hunger Games in theaters - she's been obsessed since" Of course. "I play a bit of PUBG so the idea has grown on me" And of course. "I know we went over the plan before, like half-assedly glazed over it, but how long will I have to wait? When does the fight begin?" He slowly turned his head toward the clock on the wall. "Well as for how long you have to wait, I packed some provisions in the bag - should make it pass in no time. And for when the fight starts - we got 3 minutes yet" "... I really hope that's another joke" "Yeah, it was" he smiled "It's time now." And again, I'm just here. At least this time, I know where I am. The trees, that river, I'm 350 out from my target area. Time for a hike I guess. I was going to have to make my way along this river, but I stopped to check the bag to see what 'provisions' John had packed for me Backpack contents: Beef Jerky, one pack Water canteen, filled with mountain dew for some reason The 'secret weapon'... Tissues, one box Lotion, one bottle Porno Mags... like 20, seriously most of the weight of this damned bag was paper! I am not going to spend my time like that. Besides, this area is actually tiny, I can't imagine that the wait will be that long. I'd better get to the spot and get deployed. --- (cont.)	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_bellatrixbourbon] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BellatrixBourbon/comments/9ovd45/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) - [/r/u_meowmoewrainbow] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_meowmoewrainbow/comments/9ovsuj/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	“........... A musket.” I muttered slightly annoyed “You’ve been given a great power.” Said this odd somewhat feeble old man of a god. He said it as if he was parting wisdom but I’m still filled with hollow hope and trembling with dread. I believed in maybe a god and pretended to know a few others out of respect or avoiding awkward confrontations, but this guy? With a name like Tempus you’d think I’d get something more powerful or at least cool looking. Now I just get to die with an antique given to me by, well...... an antique of a man. No magic, no added strength, not even speed to runaway, just a musket. I had fired a musket before, sure, but it was just to fend off wolves on my uncles farm a few times. Mother hated violence and was livid when she found out, so my few months of practice ended years ago with a harsh grounding. “And when is this tournament?” I asked with great grief . With an almost smug grin he immediately replied, “4 hours, 16 minutes, and 33 seconds.” As if it was common knowledge. “Can I at least practice?” He handed me a bag full of gunpowder and another with bullets. “Of course! Be wary though, as you only have 4 hours, 15 minutes, and 17 seconds left to do so.” My eyes almost rolled so far back into my head I thought I was about to read my own mind. “Practice hard, Champion. You may only get one shot.” He added as I swung the musket over my shoulder to go practice. It wasn’t hard to brush up my skills but I eventually had to take care with my shots, as I started to run out of ammunition. Blasting apples out of trees seemed harmless and a hard enough target. The old man appeared before me right after I spent the last blast on some low hanging fruit. “It’s time!” He shouted holding a finger in the air. “Watch it! I don’t want to get in trouble for shooting a god in the face! A second sooner and I might’ve made my shot! Plus, plus, my apple did I hit the-.” “Of course, Champion! See for yourself!” He gleefully waved his hand to show what was an obliterated apple barely hanging by it’s stem. I caught my breath, now slightly embarrassed I replied, “Oh, hey sorry abo-“ He interrupted me again. “ No time, no time, here is your ammunition and we’re off to the challenge!” Before I could even get another word in he snapped and I was all of a sudden behind a barred gate on the edge of a massive coliseum. Thunderous roars of people and otherworldly beings in the stands almost made it impossible to gather my thoughts and calm down. The heat of the sun cast intense shadows and kicked up hot sand. I tried my best to stare across the way. Sizing up just the few contenders I could see from where I stood I knew I was screwed. There was a man with a fiery rage in his eyes, or maybe it actually was fire, wearing nothing but his rage and a loincloth. Another cage had some monstrous four legged being with tentacles for a face. I couldn’t decide if it’d be more painful to be hit by it or be turned into whatever that thing was. To my shock, his neighbor appeared to be dead in the next gate over. What I assumed used to be a giant was now more of a contorted flesh made rag you’d use to mop up blood. I take it his god didn’t take these small spaces cells into account so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. With thunder and a lightning strike made of every shade of color I’ve seen before hitting center arena, the gates lifted. I panicked and hid in the shadow of my cell. I was so preoccupied with my situation I hadn’t even loaded the musket. I open my bags and- WHAT, one bullet!? This has to be a mistake, this has to be a mistake! Whatever, I loaded it and was pretty prepared to use it on myself but hey, let’s at least watch this fight first. Shrieks of pain, rain of blood splatters, metal clanging, roars of elements shooting across sides of the arena. I didn’t stand a chance, bodies were almost in huge piles now and I wasn’t eager to be added to the list. “How many gods are there?” I muttered to myself. With just a few minutes there was almost silence again. I suddenly heard the roar of the man with fire in his eyes as he hurled flames in all directions. There were a few other champions still alive but surely about to die from intense burns. The tentacled....... dog..... thing, well it didn’t seem phased at all as it leaped to the chest of the fiery man. Things were getting reckless and I was afraid of getting hit with a loose fireball. I’d like to at least not die at the starting line. I crawled my way under a pile of bodies and beings near the center of the arena. I figured this would be the last place anyone would look. As I peered out from the limbs I could see the fight taking place again. The tentacle dog had a good grip on the fiery man’s throat now, he was finally losing blood. Then a nasty rip sound cut through the air, the fiery man had used what must’ve been pure adrenaline and rage to rip the tentacle dog in half. His eyes blared with flames as he walked my way with slow stomps of bloodlust. It was as if he was staring right at me. I twisted and fumbled around for my musket readying the weapon to fire when- THUMP. I flinched with my eyes closed sure that he had found me in the pile. Another THUMP and a tentacles came down from the top of the pile hanging into my face. I wanted to scream but the air had left my lungs. The stomps slowly distances theirselves in sound. I looked through the limbs again to catch a glimpse of death before it took me and I saw the fiery man with a fist in the air looking at the crowds in the stands. They stood patiently quiet, almost horrified, yet no cheer. This obviously drove the fiery man wild as he started to scream and roar at them like in animal pumping his blood soaked fist in the air for validation. This is it, he hasn’t won yet, this is obviously a battle to the death and one contender remains, me. I caught my breath and steadied my barrel. The hot sand was blowing into my eyes so I adjusted the limbs for coverage in my hiding hole of gore. I waited to get a glimpse in the small sandstorm of his rage. I need something to aim for, yet he moved about yelling at his audience in fury. Then his gaze shot over me at the judging beings in the stands behind me and that’s when I saw it, my shot. His eyes flaming a yellowish orange like ripening apples, I caught my breath and let loose my best aimed shot ever. BANG I looked for my target and it was gone, his head, gone. Silence lasted as the fiery man’s body fell to its knees until finally going limp to the ground. Cheer bursted from every angle and shook the ground I laid on. I arose from the pile of death and raised my musket with pride now. Clapping soon followed the cheer as I assume they were impressed just as I was at me being alive. Then I was suddenly standing before the old man by the apple tree looking like a gloating fool, but I didn’t care, I felt more alive then ever. “Well done champion!” His voice rang with pride and I was not as annoyed to hear him this time. “Did I do it? Am I a god now!?” I blurted barely containing myself. “Of course! Why do you think they were cheering?” He asked in that smug way old men speak. “I just, I just didn’t think I’d make it. I mean all I had is this musket. How did, how did you know?” I asked in a prying manner. “I didn’t, that’s all I could conjure. I’m pretty preoccupied with a the times and I knew you had fired a musket before. Plus you’re a decent man compared to the bandits and warriors who were on that battlefield.” He ended his sentence with a warming smile. I didn’t know what to say, “Thanks?” He patted me on the back,” No boy, thank you. You e made me proud and assured no monster would take place in our pantheon. Plus, I get to show them all that old man time is nothing to be laughed at.” I was surprised at his reply and still slightly confused. I pressed further, “Wait, you have the power of time and you gave me a musket and one bullet? Wha- how- are you crazy or just plain mean?” He smirked, “Dear boy, don’t you know Tempus stands for time? You have the powers of time yourself, I just need you to use it right. I couldn’t give you a bunch of bullets to go willy nilly shooting in everything that moved. I needed you to be sure, so that you’d use your power of time.” Still confused I asked, “What power of time do I have?” He smiled at me, reminded me of grandfather in this light, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Timing boy, good timing”	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_bellatrixbourbon] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BellatrixBourbon/comments/9ovd45/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) - [/r/u_meowmoewrainbow] [\[WP\] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_meowmoewrainbow/comments/9ovsuj/wp_one_of_the_gods_of_your_world_has_abdicated/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"A musket? I mean, a chain gun I could do something with but... this old thing? What am I supposed to do with this? Smother people in rust??" I'm panicking. Not panicking. I'm damn near hysterical. I've about 20 minutes to fight the rest of the mortals for the prize of immortality, omniscience, control of reality or whatever is gods get these days. (I'm really hoping teleportation, its a bloody pain to get to this... ethereal realm). My sponsor, who insists on calling himself Rudy - he says his real name is just too hard for an A-me-rican to say. I'm not sure whether he's just trolling me by adding the 'me' there but that's how he says it. By this time, i'm gesticulating wildly. I pick up the musket. It's old, like I think it was literally the first gun ever invented old. I'm sure it was quite beautiful when it was new but now even the wood bits have sort of rotten off exposing the skeletal structure of the weapon. The trigger was rusted shut until Rudy put some oil in it. If guns could be undead, this would be the shining example of one. Well it would be if it was shining. I swing towards Old Rudy, the barrel directly point at his little head. His tiny eyes open wide showing the blacks of his pupils. "No point!! Nein!! No point barrel at Rudy!!! " Rudy seems scared, terrified actually. Wonder why. I've never seen him so terrified. To be fair, I've only known him about 2 weeks now. 2 weeks since he chose me to be his representative in Mortal Combat tournament. Ha, Mortal Kombat. Hey, maybe if I win, I can be the God of Computer Games. Oh wait, Gaben already has that title. At least it was Elderitch Antonius. Fuck that guy. Rudy scuttles near me. If I were to compare him to a pop culture icon, I'd say he looks like Yoda. Well not really. His mannerisms are the same though. He carefully lowers the barrel, staring up with me and squints,intensely. "Point barrel at non-friend! Then Shoot shoot!" He mimes aiming and shooting at a target. it's about this time, I'm beginning to think that maybe he isn't the all powerful lord of Death, life, or like some awesome power of nature. "Um, Rudy, buddy.. What did you say you were god of again?" "Rudy? oh, Rudy dist de god of.. how you say in your sprechen.. you know.." He points to the bar. "Oh! awesome! you're a God of Booze! Fuckin' A. This is going to be..." "Cup!" Rudy looked tremendously proud of himself as he remembered the English word for "cup" "Say what?" There's no way there's a culture that has a specific God of... cups.. "Rudy, God of Cups!!! That's right!or Boxes! yes Box box! " "I'm dead, oh God, I'm dead". Before I have the time to properly die of a heart attack, I'm whisked away from the locker room. My mind is a rush,I can't hear myself think. I'm sweating so profusely I think I've created a swimming pool where my feet used to be. Um, WWTRD? What would the Rock do? What would the Rock do? I guess he would act like he knew what he was doing. I've been ushered into the arena. There must be a million people there. Through some, um cough cough, favour found with one of those (greek?) goddess, I've made the quarters without actually fighting. By right, I should be fighting someone really useless. I'm hoping a feminist or one of those other hippies. The crowd roars as I come out. Luckily, since I'm technically in between death and life, I got to choose my body form and I decided to go with that of Thor... movie Thor. Or that sort. Point is I'm super muscular and not the total nerd I totally am not on Earth. "AND THE FINAL QUARTERS OF THE NIGHT!!! MARCUS VON ZUCKERBERG vs..." Damn asshole got my name wrong, There's no Von in my name, I'm not a Nazi... I'm so upset I don't hear who I'm facing. I realise too late that pulling strings, looking like Thor and having all the money in the world isn't enough when you're facing.... Iron Man? oh God, no. "E-LONGGGG MUSSSSSSSKKKKK!!!!!!!" The crowd goes wild as the fan favourite emerges from the other side of the arena. He zips out in a suit that looks like Batman melded with Iron Man. A metallic Devil Bat. Black. I look up towards the walls of the arena where I am. I catch myself on the screen. Gods do I look good. Its like the most handsome I've ever... My thoughts are rudely interrupted by a LASER beam narrow sailing over my head. It singes my manly hair. That's it! This is personal. There's no way this musket is going to do anything. I run around, scouring the battlefield for trinkets. Weapons, anything that can do anything. The musket flies out of my hand as I dodge beam after beam of pure energy. The thunderdome shakes from the power. The masked murderer's flying towards me. I move just in time as a portion of the wall crumbles. Despite the looks, the Thunderdome's walls are nigh unbreakable. Or so I've been told. I grab a hammer that's inside a pile of ashes. Can hardly lift it. I feel power flowing through my veins. Thunder! Lightning! I call it all down upon the Musk. The dome goes as bright as the sun. Everything that wasn't singed before becomes a pile of ash now. Surely that would short out his suit. The Musk is down. I'm right! there's a chip in his suit. I walk towards him. Screw you and your stupid musket, Bob. The black figure stirs as I charge towards him, yelling my lungs out. He turns towards me. Oh God, I made a huge.. huge.. Musk's power isn't his suit at all. It's him... Oh, God the lightning must have super-charged his previous form. Oh God, he's become pure energy. Oh God oh God oh God, he's about to go nuclear. The suit was a containment suit, it wasn't a power suit. How could I have been so stupid.... It's just then as I heroically run in the opposite direction of the bomb that my foot stubs a familiar object. it's the musket! As I, um, duck and embrace the ground. Nope, didn't fall there, I never trip and fall! The stadium is kinda in full panic now as everyone rushes towards the exit. Well, nothing to lose now. I close my eyes and shoot the thing at my opponent. Well at least if I die I... Nothing. No boom. No loud catastrophic universe destroying disaster. just a small plop and there in the middle of the stadium, where he used to stand, I now see a box. A small little box. I later found out that that's what it does. Just collects everything into a flask. Rudy is apparently the God of all containers, cups, flasks, boxes. Oh and apparently, pocket dimensions and all of space. And that's the musket he uses to create or contain any force in the world. Well, when I'm All Father of this town, I'll be sure to promote old Rudy, or known by his long German name of Erwin Rudolf Josef Alexander Schrödinger , to something much higher. Still, I wonder what ever is inside that box....	"You will thank to me for the musket. Trust me." Said the God of Nothing, Coroledus. "It is a fucking Musket! How can i fight all the superpowered champions with that?!" Said his champion, Michal Golly. "Damn it Mich. Just trust me. You will win it." As the God said that, he disappeared and Michal with his stupid musket appeared at the Arena of Legends. Announcer announced that battle would start in 20 minutes. Thankfully Michal knew how to operate rifles in general and figured his musket wasnt hard to use. Then he saw some of the details on the musket. It was not an ordinary musket. It was Coroledus' most prized artifact before he fell from power and became God of Nothing. Michal heard stories of how powerful he was once upon a time. Then Michal thought he would heard a growl. Suddenly realised the weapon had a will of its own and most importantly. It was hungry... As he took the weapon in his hands, his hands cracked and wounds opened up. Presumably his blood feeding the weapon. Suddenly a lightning came down to Arena and weapon growled once again in his head. Suddenly the weapon turned blood-red and Michal would feel as if weapon's weight decreased. A berserker approached at him to decapitate his head however Michal unconciously aimed at berserker and a red bolt appeared from his twisted Musket, feeding its hunger as it killed berserker, drawing blood from the berserker... It turned out that the musket was in fact, legendary. Contained former power of the God, it could enhance its user's abilities and make an ordinary man a crack shot. Capable of penetrating magic and armor alike, requiring no ammo other than blood of victims or user, even turn into a singularity-throwing cannon of death, the weapon was more than capable of ensuring it's champion's victory. Michal discovered it's abilities one by one during the battle, downing other champions with red bolts of blood and when it came to last champion, suddenly he heard a roar in his head, additional 15 barrels appeared at the front of the gun suddenly and spun up. Ready to barrage the last champion with ultimate vengeance and lust, Michal obeyed the calling of bloodlust in his head and pulled the trigger. Suddenly 16 barrels fired with extreme prejudice and pierced the Champion of Underworld's head as the champion tried to raise fallen champions as his thralls. As the weapon was satisfied, suddenly it healed Michal's wounds and Throne of the Eighteen revealed itself before Michal, all thanks to Coroledus' Fury Musket.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"It's... a musket." I couldn't believe what I had in my hands. Well, I couldn't believe where I was, why I was there, who I was with, and what I had in my hands but the first three were of little importance since this tournament was going to happen with me in it regardless if I thought I should participate or not. I inspected the weapon more closely. The muzzle was jagged and flared out, tubes were sprouting in and out of the barrel and some sort of compass has been soldered to the breech. It was ugly, unbalanced and heavier than a dead donkey. "I know it doesn't look like much but trust me, I've been working on this baby for two millennia and I'm pretty sure it's working." Replies Omnia. She was nodding vehemently but her head kept bobbing left and right at the same time, making her look like one of those little figurines people of questionable taste put in their car. I let out the musket with one hand to massage my forehead. I sighed. My life has been a series of failures up until now and now I've been thrown in this mess for no reason nor time to prepare. I'm sure I'll fail, I always fail, and I'll die. Or worse, make a fool of myself. "Why did you even chose me again!?" I ask, a bit more aggressively than I wanted. Omnia yawns. "I told you, you're my most zealous follower! I couldn't have chosen a better avatar than you." "But I never prayed you! I didn't even know you existed up until 30 minutes ago!" The goddess shrugs and her whole body waggles. She looks like she could lose balance at any time. "Well I guess you just didn't realize what you were doing. Won't change from the usual, am I right." I glares at her, split between anger and desperation. She coughs and pushes her long silky white hair away from her face. "Sorry for that." An awkward silence passes by to say hi, uninvited. "Listen, I know it's a lot to process, but have faith. Just aim at your opponent and trust your guts. You've been born to hold this weapon." I was in the middle of interjecting once again when a voice blasted out in the corridor. "Avatar Mikaza-Ol-Erun and Avatar Joe!" My shoulders slumped down and I bit my cheek to not break into tears. Omnia put her hand on my arm and gave me a tired smile. "You can do it. I'm sure of it." She said before letting out yet another loud yawn. It's at this precise moment I became convinced gods could make mistakes. § The arena was nothing but a large empty room paved with white marble tiles. As large as a soccer field, it had no place to run nor hide. 50 meters away from me I could see her: Mikaza-Ol-Erun, my opponent, a beast of a woman, already ready to charge at me. A glowing blue mist was oozing from her back, already taking frightening forms of horror long forgotten. Suddenly a swirl of red light materialized in the center of the arena and took the shape of a cloaked figure. “Avatars, as per the ancient rules of the universe, you’ve been chosen by your respective gods because of your outstanding qualities. You’ll fight each other in the Hall of Judgment until one of you lose the will to fight or death come claim their soul. You are free to use any tactic you may wish as well as the boon bestowed upon you by your sponsor. Through your actions Hall of Judgement will gauge your worthiness to becom…“ The apparition was still talking but I couldn’t focus anymore. Behind them, Mikaza was licking her lips. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. In her open hand was a mist construct of my face distorted by terror and pain. I tightened my grip on my gun until my knuckles turned white. “… since neither of you want to step down, may the fight begin!” “Wait, wha-!” But the cloaked silhouette already disappeared in a cloud of red flames. Mikaza was running at me screaming, leading a ghostly army of misshapen monsters! I took a step back but my shaking legs refused to hold me up. I fell on my back in a pitiful groan. I’m pathetic. I shouldn’t be there. It’s not fair! I tried to calm down my hands in vain. The musket was trembling and smoking in my loose grasp. Great, and I broke this bloody thing when I fall! Still, what other choice did I have? I aimed the best I could at the grinning juggernaut charging me and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I’m going to die like an idiot, sitting on my sorry butt I pulled the trigger again, and again. Still nothing. Already her blue mist was crawling around me. She was only ten meters away. I closed my eyes and tensed my muscles. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this. FUCK THIS LIFE! Suddenly the dial on the breech lightened up and a roar surged through the cannon “HAHA YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! YOU’RE SO DUMB MIKI.” A childish voice resonated against the Hall’s walls. Mizaka wasn’t smiling nor running anymore. A jet of colors gushed out of the gun’s muzzle and splatters against the marble walls, depicting a crying girl, mouth and hands smeared red, holding a ragged doll. “I’M SORRY MIKI, YOU’RE GREAT AND ALL BUT IT’S JUST NOT WORKING OUT FOR ME.” Continued the disembodied voice, taking a more virile tone. The murals were now depicting a young woman, too big and too clumsy for the white summer dress she was wearing. “SUUUURE YOU CAN COME. I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T GET THE INVITATION LIKE EVERYONE ELSE…” Mizaka was standing still now, observing the scenes displayed on the wall. Her eldritch army was dissipating behind her. The voice continued to morph, becoming in turn male or female, young or old, while more images of her life were broadcast for everyone to see. Finally, she fell on her knees, holding her chest. “I give up. Just make it stop.” The dial on the musket turned off and silence returned. Neither of us dared to move. I looked down at the gun I was holding, terrified by what it has done. Suddenly the hooded figure made of light reappeared in the middle of the room and shouted cheerfully: “And the winner of this round is Joe! Avatar of Ines Omnia goddess of-” A second passes “-of ‘those desperate moments at 3AM where you just want to sleep but keep thinking about all the cringiest moments and failures of your life’!”	"You will thank to me for the musket. Trust me." Said the God of Nothing, Coroledus. "It is a fucking Musket! How can i fight all the superpowered champions with that?!" Said his champion, Michal Golly. "Damn it Mich. Just trust me. You will win it." As the God said that, he disappeared and Michal with his stupid musket appeared at the Arena of Legends. Announcer announced that battle would start in 20 minutes. Thankfully Michal knew how to operate rifles in general and figured his musket wasnt hard to use. Then he saw some of the details on the musket. It was not an ordinary musket. It was Coroledus' most prized artifact before he fell from power and became God of Nothing. Michal heard stories of how powerful he was once upon a time. Then Michal thought he would heard a growl. Suddenly realised the weapon had a will of its own and most importantly. It was hungry... As he took the weapon in his hands, his hands cracked and wounds opened up. Presumably his blood feeding the weapon. Suddenly a lightning came down to Arena and weapon growled once again in his head. Suddenly the weapon turned blood-red and Michal would feel as if weapon's weight decreased. A berserker approached at him to decapitate his head however Michal unconciously aimed at berserker and a red bolt appeared from his twisted Musket, feeding its hunger as it killed berserker, drawing blood from the berserker... It turned out that the musket was in fact, legendary. Contained former power of the God, it could enhance its user's abilities and make an ordinary man a crack shot. Capable of penetrating magic and armor alike, requiring no ammo other than blood of victims or user, even turn into a singularity-throwing cannon of death, the weapon was more than capable of ensuring it's champion's victory. Michal discovered it's abilities one by one during the battle, downing other champions with red bolts of blood and when it came to last champion, suddenly he heard a roar in his head, additional 15 barrels appeared at the front of the gun suddenly and spun up. Ready to barrage the last champion with ultimate vengeance and lust, Michal obeyed the calling of bloodlust in his head and pulled the trigger. Suddenly 16 barrels fired with extreme prejudice and pierced the Champion of Underworld's head as the champion tried to raise fallen champions as his thralls. As the weapon was satisfied, suddenly it healed Michal's wounds and Throne of the Eighteen revealed itself before Michal, all thanks to Coroledus' Fury Musket.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I blink. What the fuck just happened? One minute I'm laying in bed, catching up on some youtube videos - and suddenly I'm not anymore... I'm on a couch? It didn't feel like I moved, like anything happened at all, I just suddenly am here now. Everything has a weird kind of feeling to it, it's hard to describe, almost like an aura you could almost see - it just feels off. But, this looks like a normal enough living room. The carpets are nice, this couch is comfortable... There's a man sitting in that recliner over there, is he watching TV? "Hello?" He looks over my way slowly, his slender pale face looked quizzical at first, then his eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah, that was today - right..." He let out an audible sigh and the television went dark in front of him. I just realized, I'm still just in a pair of boxers... not even the kind with a button, stupid open flap ones. He motions to the end of the couch I'm on as his chair turns toward me. "You'll probably need to learn how to shoot that" a gun that resembles a musket is seated next to me, it's got one of those cheap bows from walmart stuck to it - even has the price tag still on the base. 39 cents? How long has that bow been sitting around for? "Uhhh, can I ask why" I'm not so sure I want to know though. "Well, one of the gods has decided he was done and just up and left. Now we gotta have this big battle to see which mortal is suited to become the next god, yadda yadda" "Wait, hold on... no really, yadda yadda? I'm gonna fight against people and it's a 'yadda yadda?' "Well, they don't call me the god of Laziness for nothing" Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into? "God of Laziness?" "Present" "... Okay, first question - why me? "Oh, well a lot of the other gods spent time searching the earth for someone who was suited - someone who would rise to the occasion, painstakingly checking every single... Oh god that just sounded so BORING. I picked you out of a hat." "What?" ...WHAT!?! "I'm kidding! Actually it's a bit much to describe, but I developed a way to speak to the earth itself and listen to what she has to say. It's really handy for when you don't want to do anything but need to know about things on earth" "... are you joking again, orrrr" "Nope, took me 20 years to figure out a way, but it has saved me countless hours since" ...Isn't that kind of amazing in it's own way? I guess that's why he's the GOD of laziness He smiled a bit "She said you were the person I'd get along with best, which is great because the only guy I even liked up here just up and left his seat." "Who was that anyway?" "God of Sex, dude was a FREAK - but he just was too much to handle" Wait, does that mean... "So, I could be the next God of Sex?" He laughed... a lot... and just when he was winding it down, he looked back up at me and he just started laughing even harder. "So, what kind of god would I become?" I asked once he finally quieted down a bit. "I actually don't know," He shrugged slightly "You just kind of know when it happens" That... is not reassuring. "My weapon is a gun, I assume the fights are to the death?" "You assume correctly" "And, can I assume that you all being gods will either protect us or resurrect anyone who dies?" "You don't assume quite as correctly on that one" Ah fuck... "There is some worse news," he continued "I'm kind of bottom of the totem pole up here - so I can't really grant you any 'powers' like superhuman strength, or anything good really... I mean I kind of even had the weapon over there for you on 'auto pick' because I was choosing last and Artemis took for fucking EVER" "Auto pick?" "Yeah, I won't go into details, but basically I let the earth choose the weapon then used a 'stand in' to actually pick it. I came back to watch some more anime" ... I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die fucking horribly, this is awesome. "So, wait a minute - earth chose this for me?" I looked at the gun, it really looks like a musket... "She said something about some of the most lopsided wars in terms of casualties were fought when one side had this weapon" "That sounds like some REALLY flimsy logic" "Yeah, I probably should have been there. Could have at least taken the gist of the advice and gotten you a more modern gun - but hey what can you do? Half these dolts chose to have their 'champions' wield spears and shit, in this day and age. My money is on the Goddess of self-importance, she got a trained hitman - and apparently chose an AR-15 as his weapon. I mean, she may be in the same boat as me in terms of bestowing powers - but she really put some effort into this" I really wish I was back home. "Ah, but don't worry too much. I have a plan, I mean I REALLY do want someone up here who gets me - and Earth said you were a cool dude so I put some effort into this" "And that plan is?" "...Wouldn't you rather get dressed first?" --- After getting dressed and spending a little time in the 'killing fields' learning how to load and fire the musket, I came to the realization that this 'weapon' is definitely going to get me killed... He spent some time explaining the 'plan' - or half-explaining, difficult questions often answered with "Wing it!"... This only reassured me that I am totally screwed. We went back to his house and I found myself in thought, sitting at a table, much too long of one - this thing must be 40 feet long... and this room - the dining room, why is this room so much more elegant than the rest of his house? "I see you are admiring the tasteful decor, yeah I hate it." "... Then why don't you change it?" He just smiled and nodded as he reached for the hot pocket in front of him... I might not have even assumed whatever he was eating was a hot-pocket... but it's resting on the box, he's using the box as a plate... "OH!" he exclaimed, with a mouth full of hotpocket "I almost forgot, the name is John" "... I'm Mark - Mark Jacobs... I'm sure you knew that though... Do you gods have last names?" "Nope, I'm just John. Always has been that way" "I'm not gonna question it, I'm sure you chose that name with great care" "I uh, I don't even remember. It's been so long. At first they had me running this place, let me tell you that was a mess... I don't even want to get into it. But a couple years back I turned that over to some new guy who seemed promising, he left sometime after that though and it's changed hands once or twice. It's too bad, I really liked that guy, went by 'Zeus' I think..." ... I just heard something very troubling. "You used to run... Heaven? ... what do you call this place?" "Close enough, but like I said - I don't want to get into it." "But c'mon, you used to RUN the place, you have to have some special powers or something right? How did you go from-" "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" his eyes took a serious look Oops, hit a nerve... better back it off a bit "Okay, I'm sorry John. You're right, let's just focus on the task at hand" I looked down at the gun I had now resting against my chair, and then forward to the hot pocket John had made for me, it was resting on a paper towel folded over a couple times - the grease soaking through the first layer entirely. I didn't feel so good - eating was definitely out of the question "So, it's a Battle Royale style fight?" "Yeah, Artemis was so insistent on that - she apparently went and saw The Hunger Games in theaters - she's been obsessed since" Of course. "I play a bit of PUBG so the idea has grown on me" And of course. "I know we went over the plan before, like half-assedly glazed over it, but how long will I have to wait? When does the fight begin?" He slowly turned his head toward the clock on the wall. "Well as for how long you have to wait, I packed some provisions in the bag - should make it pass in no time. And for when the fight starts - we got 3 minutes yet" "... I really hope that's another joke" "Yeah, it was" he smiled "It's time now." And again, I'm just here. At least this time, I know where I am. The trees, that river, I'm 350 out from my target area. Time for a hike I guess. I was going to have to make my way along this river, but I stopped to check the bag to see what 'provisions' John had packed for me Backpack contents: Beef Jerky, one pack Water canteen, filled with mountain dew for some reason The 'secret weapon'... Tissues, one box Lotion, one bottle Porno Mags... like 20, seriously most of the weight of this damned bag was paper! I am not going to spend my time like that. Besides, this area is actually tiny, I can't imagine that the wait will be that long. I'd better get to the spot and get deployed. --- (cont.)	"You will thank to me for the musket. Trust me." Said the God of Nothing, Coroledus. "It is a fucking Musket! How can i fight all the superpowered champions with that?!" Said his champion, Michal Golly. "Damn it Mich. Just trust me. You will win it." As the God said that, he disappeared and Michal with his stupid musket appeared at the Arena of Legends. Announcer announced that battle would start in 20 minutes. Thankfully Michal knew how to operate rifles in general and figured his musket wasnt hard to use. Then he saw some of the details on the musket. It was not an ordinary musket. It was Coroledus' most prized artifact before he fell from power and became God of Nothing. Michal heard stories of how powerful he was once upon a time. Then Michal thought he would heard a growl. Suddenly realised the weapon had a will of its own and most importantly. It was hungry... As he took the weapon in his hands, his hands cracked and wounds opened up. Presumably his blood feeding the weapon. Suddenly a lightning came down to Arena and weapon growled once again in his head. Suddenly the weapon turned blood-red and Michal would feel as if weapon's weight decreased. A berserker approached at him to decapitate his head however Michal unconciously aimed at berserker and a red bolt appeared from his twisted Musket, feeding its hunger as it killed berserker, drawing blood from the berserker... It turned out that the musket was in fact, legendary. Contained former power of the God, it could enhance its user's abilities and make an ordinary man a crack shot. Capable of penetrating magic and armor alike, requiring no ammo other than blood of victims or user, even turn into a singularity-throwing cannon of death, the weapon was more than capable of ensuring it's champion's victory. Michal discovered it's abilities one by one during the battle, downing other champions with red bolts of blood and when it came to last champion, suddenly he heard a roar in his head, additional 15 barrels appeared at the front of the gun suddenly and spun up. Ready to barrage the last champion with ultimate vengeance and lust, Michal obeyed the calling of bloodlust in his head and pulled the trigger. Suddenly 16 barrels fired with extreme prejudice and pierced the Champion of Underworld's head as the champion tried to raise fallen champions as his thralls. As the weapon was satisfied, suddenly it healed Michal's wounds and Throne of the Eighteen revealed itself before Michal, all thanks to Coroledus' Fury Musket.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	“........... A musket.” I muttered slightly annoyed “You’ve been given a great power.” Said this odd somewhat feeble old man of a god. He said it as if he was parting wisdom but I’m still filled with hollow hope and trembling with dread. I believed in maybe a god and pretended to know a few others out of respect or avoiding awkward confrontations, but this guy? With a name like Tempus you’d think I’d get something more powerful or at least cool looking. Now I just get to die with an antique given to me by, well...... an antique of a man. No magic, no added strength, not even speed to runaway, just a musket. I had fired a musket before, sure, but it was just to fend off wolves on my uncles farm a few times. Mother hated violence and was livid when she found out, so my few months of practice ended years ago with a harsh grounding. “And when is this tournament?” I asked with great grief . With an almost smug grin he immediately replied, “4 hours, 16 minutes, and 33 seconds.” As if it was common knowledge. “Can I at least practice?” He handed me a bag full of gunpowder and another with bullets. “Of course! Be wary though, as you only have 4 hours, 15 minutes, and 17 seconds left to do so.” My eyes almost rolled so far back into my head I thought I was about to read my own mind. “Practice hard, Champion. You may only get one shot.” He added as I swung the musket over my shoulder to go practice. It wasn’t hard to brush up my skills but I eventually had to take care with my shots, as I started to run out of ammunition. Blasting apples out of trees seemed harmless and a hard enough target. The old man appeared before me right after I spent the last blast on some low hanging fruit. “It’s time!” He shouted holding a finger in the air. “Watch it! I don’t want to get in trouble for shooting a god in the face! A second sooner and I might’ve made my shot! Plus, plus, my apple did I hit the-.” “Of course, Champion! See for yourself!” He gleefully waved his hand to show what was an obliterated apple barely hanging by it’s stem. I caught my breath, now slightly embarrassed I replied, “Oh, hey sorry abo-“ He interrupted me again. “ No time, no time, here is your ammunition and we’re off to the challenge!” Before I could even get another word in he snapped and I was all of a sudden behind a barred gate on the edge of a massive coliseum. Thunderous roars of people and otherworldly beings in the stands almost made it impossible to gather my thoughts and calm down. The heat of the sun cast intense shadows and kicked up hot sand. I tried my best to stare across the way. Sizing up just the few contenders I could see from where I stood I knew I was screwed. There was a man with a fiery rage in his eyes, or maybe it actually was fire, wearing nothing but his rage and a loincloth. Another cage had some monstrous four legged being with tentacles for a face. I couldn’t decide if it’d be more painful to be hit by it or be turned into whatever that thing was. To my shock, his neighbor appeared to be dead in the next gate over. What I assumed used to be a giant was now more of a contorted flesh made rag you’d use to mop up blood. I take it his god didn’t take these small spaces cells into account so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. With thunder and a lightning strike made of every shade of color I’ve seen before hitting center arena, the gates lifted. I panicked and hid in the shadow of my cell. I was so preoccupied with my situation I hadn’t even loaded the musket. I open my bags and- WHAT, one bullet!? This has to be a mistake, this has to be a mistake! Whatever, I loaded it and was pretty prepared to use it on myself but hey, let’s at least watch this fight first. Shrieks of pain, rain of blood splatters, metal clanging, roars of elements shooting across sides of the arena. I didn’t stand a chance, bodies were almost in huge piles now and I wasn’t eager to be added to the list. “How many gods are there?” I muttered to myself. With just a few minutes there was almost silence again. I suddenly heard the roar of the man with fire in his eyes as he hurled flames in all directions. There were a few other champions still alive but surely about to die from intense burns. The tentacled....... dog..... thing, well it didn’t seem phased at all as it leaped to the chest of the fiery man. Things were getting reckless and I was afraid of getting hit with a loose fireball. I’d like to at least not die at the starting line. I crawled my way under a pile of bodies and beings near the center of the arena. I figured this would be the last place anyone would look. As I peered out from the limbs I could see the fight taking place again. The tentacle dog had a good grip on the fiery man’s throat now, he was finally losing blood. Then a nasty rip sound cut through the air, the fiery man had used what must’ve been pure adrenaline and rage to rip the tentacle dog in half. His eyes blared with flames as he walked my way with slow stomps of bloodlust. It was as if he was staring right at me. I twisted and fumbled around for my musket readying the weapon to fire when- THUMP. I flinched with my eyes closed sure that he had found me in the pile. Another THUMP and a tentacles came down from the top of the pile hanging into my face. I wanted to scream but the air had left my lungs. The stomps slowly distances theirselves in sound. I looked through the limbs again to catch a glimpse of death before it took me and I saw the fiery man with a fist in the air looking at the crowds in the stands. They stood patiently quiet, almost horrified, yet no cheer. This obviously drove the fiery man wild as he started to scream and roar at them like in animal pumping his blood soaked fist in the air for validation. This is it, he hasn’t won yet, this is obviously a battle to the death and one contender remains, me. I caught my breath and steadied my barrel. The hot sand was blowing into my eyes so I adjusted the limbs for coverage in my hiding hole of gore. I waited to get a glimpse in the small sandstorm of his rage. I need something to aim for, yet he moved about yelling at his audience in fury. Then his gaze shot over me at the judging beings in the stands behind me and that’s when I saw it, my shot. His eyes flaming a yellowish orange like ripening apples, I caught my breath and let loose my best aimed shot ever. BANG I looked for my target and it was gone, his head, gone. Silence lasted as the fiery man’s body fell to its knees until finally going limp to the ground. Cheer bursted from every angle and shook the ground I laid on. I arose from the pile of death and raised my musket with pride now. Clapping soon followed the cheer as I assume they were impressed just as I was at me being alive. Then I was suddenly standing before the old man by the apple tree looking like a gloating fool, but I didn’t care, I felt more alive then ever. “Well done champion!” His voice rang with pride and I was not as annoyed to hear him this time. “Did I do it? Am I a god now!?” I blurted barely containing myself. “Of course! Why do you think they were cheering?” He asked in that smug way old men speak. “I just, I just didn’t think I’d make it. I mean all I had is this musket. How did, how did you know?” I asked in a prying manner. “I didn’t, that’s all I could conjure. I’m pretty preoccupied with a the times and I knew you had fired a musket before. Plus you’re a decent man compared to the bandits and warriors who were on that battlefield.” He ended his sentence with a warming smile. I didn’t know what to say, “Thanks?” He patted me on the back,” No boy, thank you. You e made me proud and assured no monster would take place in our pantheon. Plus, I get to show them all that old man time is nothing to be laughed at.” I was surprised at his reply and still slightly confused. I pressed further, “Wait, you have the power of time and you gave me a musket and one bullet? Wha- how- are you crazy or just plain mean?” He smirked, “Dear boy, don’t you know Tempus stands for time? You have the powers of time yourself, I just need you to use it right. I couldn’t give you a bunch of bullets to go willy nilly shooting in everything that moved. I needed you to be sure, so that you’d use your power of time.” Still confused I asked, “What power of time do I have?” He smiled at me, reminded me of grandfather in this light, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Timing boy, good timing”	"You will thank to me for the musket. Trust me." Said the God of Nothing, Coroledus. "It is a fucking Musket! How can i fight all the superpowered champions with that?!" Said his champion, Michal Golly. "Damn it Mich. Just trust me. You will win it." As the God said that, he disappeared and Michal with his stupid musket appeared at the Arena of Legends. Announcer announced that battle would start in 20 minutes. Thankfully Michal knew how to operate rifles in general and figured his musket wasnt hard to use. Then he saw some of the details on the musket. It was not an ordinary musket. It was Coroledus' most prized artifact before he fell from power and became God of Nothing. Michal heard stories of how powerful he was once upon a time. Then Michal thought he would heard a growl. Suddenly realised the weapon had a will of its own and most importantly. It was hungry... As he took the weapon in his hands, his hands cracked and wounds opened up. Presumably his blood feeding the weapon. Suddenly a lightning came down to Arena and weapon growled once again in his head. Suddenly the weapon turned blood-red and Michal would feel as if weapon's weight decreased. A berserker approached at him to decapitate his head however Michal unconciously aimed at berserker and a red bolt appeared from his twisted Musket, feeding its hunger as it killed berserker, drawing blood from the berserker... It turned out that the musket was in fact, legendary. Contained former power of the God, it could enhance its user's abilities and make an ordinary man a crack shot. Capable of penetrating magic and armor alike, requiring no ammo other than blood of victims or user, even turn into a singularity-throwing cannon of death, the weapon was more than capable of ensuring it's champion's victory. Michal discovered it's abilities one by one during the battle, downing other champions with red bolts of blood and when it came to last champion, suddenly he heard a roar in his head, additional 15 barrels appeared at the front of the gun suddenly and spun up. Ready to barrage the last champion with ultimate vengeance and lust, Michal obeyed the calling of bloodlust in his head and pulled the trigger. Suddenly 16 barrels fired with extreme prejudice and pierced the Champion of Underworld's head as the champion tried to raise fallen champions as his thralls. As the weapon was satisfied, suddenly it healed Michal's wounds and Throne of the Eighteen revealed itself before Michal, all thanks to Coroledus' Fury Musket.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"It's... a musket." I couldn't believe what I had in my hands. Well, I couldn't believe where I was, why I was there, who I was with, and what I had in my hands but the first three were of little importance since this tournament was going to happen with me in it regardless if I thought I should participate or not. I inspected the weapon more closely. The muzzle was jagged and flared out, tubes were sprouting in and out of the barrel and some sort of compass has been soldered to the breech. It was ugly, unbalanced and heavier than a dead donkey. "I know it doesn't look like much but trust me, I've been working on this baby for two millennia and I'm pretty sure it's working." Replies Omnia. She was nodding vehemently but her head kept bobbing left and right at the same time, making her look like one of those little figurines people of questionable taste put in their car. I let out the musket with one hand to massage my forehead. I sighed. My life has been a series of failures up until now and now I've been thrown in this mess for no reason nor time to prepare. I'm sure I'll fail, I always fail, and I'll die. Or worse, make a fool of myself. "Why did you even chose me again!?" I ask, a bit more aggressively than I wanted. Omnia yawns. "I told you, you're my most zealous follower! I couldn't have chosen a better avatar than you." "But I never prayed you! I didn't even know you existed up until 30 minutes ago!" The goddess shrugs and her whole body waggles. She looks like she could lose balance at any time. "Well I guess you just didn't realize what you were doing. Won't change from the usual, am I right." I glares at her, split between anger and desperation. She coughs and pushes her long silky white hair away from her face. "Sorry for that." An awkward silence passes by to say hi, uninvited. "Listen, I know it's a lot to process, but have faith. Just aim at your opponent and trust your guts. You've been born to hold this weapon." I was in the middle of interjecting once again when a voice blasted out in the corridor. "Avatar Mikaza-Ol-Erun and Avatar Joe!" My shoulders slumped down and I bit my cheek to not break into tears. Omnia put her hand on my arm and gave me a tired smile. "You can do it. I'm sure of it." She said before letting out yet another loud yawn. It's at this precise moment I became convinced gods could make mistakes. § The arena was nothing but a large empty room paved with white marble tiles. As large as a soccer field, it had no place to run nor hide. 50 meters away from me I could see her: Mikaza-Ol-Erun, my opponent, a beast of a woman, already ready to charge at me. A glowing blue mist was oozing from her back, already taking frightening forms of horror long forgotten. Suddenly a swirl of red light materialized in the center of the arena and took the shape of a cloaked figure. “Avatars, as per the ancient rules of the universe, you’ve been chosen by your respective gods because of your outstanding qualities. You’ll fight each other in the Hall of Judgment until one of you lose the will to fight or death come claim their soul. You are free to use any tactic you may wish as well as the boon bestowed upon you by your sponsor. Through your actions Hall of Judgement will gauge your worthiness to becom…“ The apparition was still talking but I couldn’t focus anymore. Behind them, Mikaza was licking her lips. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. In her open hand was a mist construct of my face distorted by terror and pain. I tightened my grip on my gun until my knuckles turned white. “… since neither of you want to step down, may the fight begin!” “Wait, wha-!” But the cloaked silhouette already disappeared in a cloud of red flames. Mikaza was running at me screaming, leading a ghostly army of misshapen monsters! I took a step back but my shaking legs refused to hold me up. I fell on my back in a pitiful groan. I’m pathetic. I shouldn’t be there. It’s not fair! I tried to calm down my hands in vain. The musket was trembling and smoking in my loose grasp. Great, and I broke this bloody thing when I fall! Still, what other choice did I have? I aimed the best I could at the grinning juggernaut charging me and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I’m going to die like an idiot, sitting on my sorry butt I pulled the trigger again, and again. Still nothing. Already her blue mist was crawling around me. She was only ten meters away. I closed my eyes and tensed my muscles. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this. FUCK THIS LIFE! Suddenly the dial on the breech lightened up and a roar surged through the cannon “HAHA YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! YOU’RE SO DUMB MIKI.” A childish voice resonated against the Hall’s walls. Mizaka wasn’t smiling nor running anymore. A jet of colors gushed out of the gun’s muzzle and splatters against the marble walls, depicting a crying girl, mouth and hands smeared red, holding a ragged doll. “I’M SORRY MIKI, YOU’RE GREAT AND ALL BUT IT’S JUST NOT WORKING OUT FOR ME.” Continued the disembodied voice, taking a more virile tone. The murals were now depicting a young woman, too big and too clumsy for the white summer dress she was wearing. “SUUUURE YOU CAN COME. I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T GET THE INVITATION LIKE EVERYONE ELSE…” Mizaka was standing still now, observing the scenes displayed on the wall. Her eldritch army was dissipating behind her. The voice continued to morph, becoming in turn male or female, young or old, while more images of her life were broadcast for everyone to see. Finally, she fell on her knees, holding her chest. “I give up. Just make it stop.” The dial on the musket turned off and silence returned. Neither of us dared to move. I looked down at the gun I was holding, terrified by what it has done. Suddenly the hooded figure made of light reappeared in the middle of the room and shouted cheerfully: “And the winner of this round is Joe! Avatar of Ines Omnia goddess of-” A second passes “-of ‘those desperate moments at 3AM where you just want to sleep but keep thinking about all the cringiest moments and failures of your life’!”	"A musket? I mean, a chain gun I could do something with but... this old thing? What am I supposed to do with this? Smother people in rust??" I'm panicking. Not panicking. I'm damn near hysterical. I've about 20 minutes to fight the rest of the mortals for the prize of immortality, omniscience, control of reality or whatever is gods get these days. (I'm really hoping teleportation, its a bloody pain to get to this... ethereal realm). My sponsor, who insists on calling himself Rudy - he says his real name is just too hard for an A-me-rican to say. I'm not sure whether he's just trolling me by adding the 'me' there but that's how he says it. By this time, i'm gesticulating wildly. I pick up the musket. It's old, like I think it was literally the first gun ever invented old. I'm sure it was quite beautiful when it was new but now even the wood bits have sort of rotten off exposing the skeletal structure of the weapon. The trigger was rusted shut until Rudy put some oil in it. If guns could be undead, this would be the shining example of one. Well it would be if it was shining. I swing towards Old Rudy, the barrel directly point at his little head. His tiny eyes open wide showing the blacks of his pupils. "No point!! Nein!! No point barrel at Rudy!!! " Rudy seems scared, terrified actually. Wonder why. I've never seen him so terrified. To be fair, I've only known him about 2 weeks now. 2 weeks since he chose me to be his representative in Mortal Combat tournament. Ha, Mortal Kombat. Hey, maybe if I win, I can be the God of Computer Games. Oh wait, Gaben already has that title. At least it was Elderitch Antonius. Fuck that guy. Rudy scuttles near me. If I were to compare him to a pop culture icon, I'd say he looks like Yoda. Well not really. His mannerisms are the same though. He carefully lowers the barrel, staring up with me and squints,intensely. "Point barrel at non-friend! Then Shoot shoot!" He mimes aiming and shooting at a target. it's about this time, I'm beginning to think that maybe he isn't the all powerful lord of Death, life, or like some awesome power of nature. "Um, Rudy, buddy.. What did you say you were god of again?" "Rudy? oh, Rudy dist de god of.. how you say in your sprechen.. you know.." He points to the bar. "Oh! awesome! you're a God of Booze! Fuckin' A. This is going to be..." "Cup!" Rudy looked tremendously proud of himself as he remembered the English word for "cup" "Say what?" There's no way there's a culture that has a specific God of... cups.. "Rudy, God of Cups!!! That's right!or Boxes! yes Box box! " "I'm dead, oh God, I'm dead". Before I have the time to properly die of a heart attack, I'm whisked away from the locker room. My mind is a rush,I can't hear myself think. I'm sweating so profusely I think I've created a swimming pool where my feet used to be. Um, WWTRD? What would the Rock do? What would the Rock do? I guess he would act like he knew what he was doing. I've been ushered into the arena. There must be a million people there. Through some, um cough cough, favour found with one of those (greek?) goddess, I've made the quarters without actually fighting. By right, I should be fighting someone really useless. I'm hoping a feminist or one of those other hippies. The crowd roars as I come out. Luckily, since I'm technically in between death and life, I got to choose my body form and I decided to go with that of Thor... movie Thor. Or that sort. Point is I'm super muscular and not the total nerd I totally am not on Earth. "AND THE FINAL QUARTERS OF THE NIGHT!!! MARCUS VON ZUCKERBERG vs..." Damn asshole got my name wrong, There's no Von in my name, I'm not a Nazi... I'm so upset I don't hear who I'm facing. I realise too late that pulling strings, looking like Thor and having all the money in the world isn't enough when you're facing.... Iron Man? oh God, no. "E-LONGGGG MUSSSSSSSKKKKK!!!!!!!" The crowd goes wild as the fan favourite emerges from the other side of the arena. He zips out in a suit that looks like Batman melded with Iron Man. A metallic Devil Bat. Black. I look up towards the walls of the arena where I am. I catch myself on the screen. Gods do I look good. Its like the most handsome I've ever... My thoughts are rudely interrupted by a LASER beam narrow sailing over my head. It singes my manly hair. That's it! This is personal. There's no way this musket is going to do anything. I run around, scouring the battlefield for trinkets. Weapons, anything that can do anything. The musket flies out of my hand as I dodge beam after beam of pure energy. The thunderdome shakes from the power. The masked murderer's flying towards me. I move just in time as a portion of the wall crumbles. Despite the looks, the Thunderdome's walls are nigh unbreakable. Or so I've been told. I grab a hammer that's inside a pile of ashes. Can hardly lift it. I feel power flowing through my veins. Thunder! Lightning! I call it all down upon the Musk. The dome goes as bright as the sun. Everything that wasn't singed before becomes a pile of ash now. Surely that would short out his suit. The Musk is down. I'm right! there's a chip in his suit. I walk towards him. Screw you and your stupid musket, Bob. The black figure stirs as I charge towards him, yelling my lungs out. He turns towards me. Oh God, I made a huge.. huge.. Musk's power isn't his suit at all. It's him... Oh, God the lightning must have super-charged his previous form. Oh God, he's become pure energy. Oh God oh God oh God, he's about to go nuclear. The suit was a containment suit, it wasn't a power suit. How could I have been so stupid.... It's just then as I heroically run in the opposite direction of the bomb that my foot stubs a familiar object. it's the musket! As I, um, duck and embrace the ground. Nope, didn't fall there, I never trip and fall! The stadium is kinda in full panic now as everyone rushes towards the exit. Well, nothing to lose now. I close my eyes and shoot the thing at my opponent. Well at least if I die I... Nothing. No boom. No loud catastrophic universe destroying disaster. just a small plop and there in the middle of the stadium, where he used to stand, I now see a box. A small little box. I later found out that that's what it does. Just collects everything into a flask. Rudy is apparently the God of all containers, cups, flasks, boxes. Oh and apparently, pocket dimensions and all of space. And that's the musket he uses to create or contain any force in the world. Well, when I'm All Father of this town, I'll be sure to promote old Rudy, or known by his long German name of Erwin Rudolf Josef Alexander Schrödinger , to something much higher. Still, I wonder what ever is inside that box....
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"It's... a musket." I couldn't believe what I had in my hands. Well, I couldn't believe where I was, why I was there, who I was with, and what I had in my hands but the first three were of little importance since this tournament was going to happen with me in it regardless if I thought I should participate or not. I inspected the weapon more closely. The muzzle was jagged and flared out, tubes were sprouting in and out of the barrel and some sort of compass has been soldered to the breech. It was ugly, unbalanced and heavier than a dead donkey. "I know it doesn't look like much but trust me, I've been working on this baby for two millennia and I'm pretty sure it's working." Replies Omnia. She was nodding vehemently but her head kept bobbing left and right at the same time, making her look like one of those little figurines people of questionable taste put in their car. I let out the musket with one hand to massage my forehead. I sighed. My life has been a series of failures up until now and now I've been thrown in this mess for no reason nor time to prepare. I'm sure I'll fail, I always fail, and I'll die. Or worse, make a fool of myself. "Why did you even chose me again!?" I ask, a bit more aggressively than I wanted. Omnia yawns. "I told you, you're my most zealous follower! I couldn't have chosen a better avatar than you." "But I never prayed you! I didn't even know you existed up until 30 minutes ago!" The goddess shrugs and her whole body waggles. She looks like she could lose balance at any time. "Well I guess you just didn't realize what you were doing. Won't change from the usual, am I right." I glares at her, split between anger and desperation. She coughs and pushes her long silky white hair away from her face. "Sorry for that." An awkward silence passes by to say hi, uninvited. "Listen, I know it's a lot to process, but have faith. Just aim at your opponent and trust your guts. You've been born to hold this weapon." I was in the middle of interjecting once again when a voice blasted out in the corridor. "Avatar Mikaza-Ol-Erun and Avatar Joe!" My shoulders slumped down and I bit my cheek to not break into tears. Omnia put her hand on my arm and gave me a tired smile. "You can do it. I'm sure of it." She said before letting out yet another loud yawn. It's at this precise moment I became convinced gods could make mistakes. § The arena was nothing but a large empty room paved with white marble tiles. As large as a soccer field, it had no place to run nor hide. 50 meters away from me I could see her: Mikaza-Ol-Erun, my opponent, a beast of a woman, already ready to charge at me. A glowing blue mist was oozing from her back, already taking frightening forms of horror long forgotten. Suddenly a swirl of red light materialized in the center of the arena and took the shape of a cloaked figure. “Avatars, as per the ancient rules of the universe, you’ve been chosen by your respective gods because of your outstanding qualities. You’ll fight each other in the Hall of Judgment until one of you lose the will to fight or death come claim their soul. You are free to use any tactic you may wish as well as the boon bestowed upon you by your sponsor. Through your actions Hall of Judgement will gauge your worthiness to becom…“ The apparition was still talking but I couldn’t focus anymore. Behind them, Mikaza was licking her lips. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. In her open hand was a mist construct of my face distorted by terror and pain. I tightened my grip on my gun until my knuckles turned white. “… since neither of you want to step down, may the fight begin!” “Wait, wha-!” But the cloaked silhouette already disappeared in a cloud of red flames. Mikaza was running at me screaming, leading a ghostly army of misshapen monsters! I took a step back but my shaking legs refused to hold me up. I fell on my back in a pitiful groan. I’m pathetic. I shouldn’t be there. It’s not fair! I tried to calm down my hands in vain. The musket was trembling and smoking in my loose grasp. Great, and I broke this bloody thing when I fall! Still, what other choice did I have? I aimed the best I could at the grinning juggernaut charging me and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I’m going to die like an idiot, sitting on my sorry butt I pulled the trigger again, and again. Still nothing. Already her blue mist was crawling around me. She was only ten meters away. I closed my eyes and tensed my muscles. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this. FUCK THIS LIFE! Suddenly the dial on the breech lightened up and a roar surged through the cannon “HAHA YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! YOU’RE SO DUMB MIKI.” A childish voice resonated against the Hall’s walls. Mizaka wasn’t smiling nor running anymore. A jet of colors gushed out of the gun’s muzzle and splatters against the marble walls, depicting a crying girl, mouth and hands smeared red, holding a ragged doll. “I’M SORRY MIKI, YOU’RE GREAT AND ALL BUT IT’S JUST NOT WORKING OUT FOR ME.” Continued the disembodied voice, taking a more virile tone. The murals were now depicting a young woman, too big and too clumsy for the white summer dress she was wearing. “SUUUURE YOU CAN COME. I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T GET THE INVITATION LIKE EVERYONE ELSE…” Mizaka was standing still now, observing the scenes displayed on the wall. Her eldritch army was dissipating behind her. The voice continued to morph, becoming in turn male or female, young or old, while more images of her life were broadcast for everyone to see. Finally, she fell on her knees, holding her chest. “I give up. Just make it stop.” The dial on the musket turned off and silence returned. Neither of us dared to move. I looked down at the gun I was holding, terrified by what it has done. Suddenly the hooded figure made of light reappeared in the middle of the room and shouted cheerfully: “And the winner of this round is Joe! Avatar of Ines Omnia goddess of-” A second passes “-of ‘those desperate moments at 3AM where you just want to sleep but keep thinking about all the cringiest moments and failures of your life’!”	The chosen candidate stared at the musket in his hands, then stared at the God sitting before him. The so called God was some schmuck in a sappy looking leather jerkin, a beaten up sword tied to his belt, and eating an drinking something from an ornate waterskin. "Great! Chosen by the least powerful God, given a shitty musket and thrown into a murder death kill contest." "Battle Royale. That's what we decided to call it." interjects the God, taking a drink from his wineskin, wiping some drops from his lips with his sleeve. "And I resent being called least powerful. I..." he trails off preemptively "Yeh? Well why cant you give me something better than a shitty musket?" the man angrily swings it like a club, the God leaning back just enough for it to brush his eyelashes. "Well if you want to..." the God trails off again expectantly. "Forget it, I don't want to know!" the man growls in frustration at his missed swing. The God only noding with a smirk. "I don't care about you, and your stupid battle Royale. I'm going to go club them all with a musket, and when I become a God, I'll club all of you with it as well!" he mumbles loubly, storming off swinging his improvised musket club. "They never do want to hear the explanation. Just because I never do anything doesn't mean I'm weak. It's not my fault all worthy of my attention are already willing to club everyone with a musket? Call me weak you bastards! But remember, my guys always win!" laughs the God of heroes saluting the departing man with his wineskin before taking another sip.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	Cameron stared at the musket dangling on a string of gold. It was almost entirely wood, save for a few strips of shiny silver. Two cartoony, golden, almost plastic angel wings were attached near the barrel, like something from a children's toy. She - her name, confusingly - pranced over to the gun, her hazy silhouette bobbing up and down. She, her face manifested as a minimalistic outline, gave Cameron a smile. "Thoughts?" "It, um, what is it?" "Your weapon!" She declared, smile forced wider. "A musket?" Cameron glanced between She and her weapon. "Brandon was bragging about superspeed. Airi can make force fields-" "Well we're on a budget." She grabbed the musket and thrust it into Cameron's arms. "How am I supposed to-" "Hold on, almost forgot the string," She said, snapping her fingers. The golden string unwound from the wooden beam above. A moment later, it whirled around the musket's wings, outlining the feathers. "Looks much better now, eh?" Cameron bit his lower lip. "Yep, way better." "Fantastic, I'm so glad you like it," She said. "Do you know how to shoot a musket?" "I'm a carpenter." "Yeah, yeah, but you could've had, like, a sharpshooting hobby, right?" "No." "Excellent." She paused. "Okay, Cameron, I'm gonna need you to trust me." "Sure." As if he had a choice. "Okay, so, I don't have a gun you can practice with." "Right," Cameron said. "And you can't practice with the musket." "Can't practice with-" Cameron fiddled with his words. "I don't know how to shoot a gun. Aren't-" He paused. "Aren't muskets even more difficult to use than normal?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, definitely. But, um, well you should be fine," She said. "That string is lucky, understand? It'll help you out. Definitely. I spent all my Divinity on it, so it ought to be high quality." Cameron gripped the musket. "Don't worry, it's not like you'll die," She said, waving her hand. "Just pull the trigger once and BAM, you'll win in a jiffy." \# Brandon ran circles around the arena, only visible through brief flashes of light. Much to his sponsor's annoyance, he had decided taunting his enemies was more productive than ending the fight in a moment. "Come on, shoot me! Try it!" Brandon said, laughing. His silhouette flashed around as Cameron tried to take aim. "Just fire!" She called from the side. "Oh, forget it," Cameron muttered. He pulled the trigger, aiming where he last saw Brandon's flash. There was no thunder, bang, or fizz. The wings merely fluttered for a moment before falling off. Brandon stopped to laugh. Cameron glanced at his opponent's sponsor, Orthun. He looked dead serious. "YES!" She cried. Cameron looked to her, finding that she was jumping and waving her arms around, or at least as well as a humanoid haze could. "YES, YES, YES!!" There was a fizz and a pop. A cool breeze brushed against Cameron's right cheek. The wings floated up, then dissolved into black dust. The lights around the arena dimmed. Dirt and dust slowly swirled around Cameron in organized streams, weaving into a cloth-like substance. Frail hands grasped Cameron's shoulders. They were warm, almost comforting. However, Cameron found himself frozen, staring at the wretched, curved blade stuck in the ground in front of him. Its blade was polished, almost reflective as a mirror. Brandon stepped back, afraid. Orthun sighed and shook his head. "HIGH QUALITY!" She shouted, almost taunting, toward Orthun. "Mm, a succession contest?" a terribly bored voice sounded out. "I was called out for this? Oh, how annoying." A frail hand left Cameron's shoulders and snapped its fingers. Brandon turned pale and collapsed. The world blurred for a moment, And Cameron felt dizzy as the Being behind him returned to dirt. Orthun strolled over, slowly clapping. A woman blinked into existence next to Cameron, petite and terribly pale. Her face was freckled and round, and her dress rippled off her into streams of ethereal mist. "See, see, I told you to trust me!" the woman said. Cameron raised an eyebrow. "She?" "No, no," the woman said, waving her hand. "I'm Sheriliaa!" She threw her arm around his shoulders. "I've got a name now because of you! And a body! Oooh, it was worth saving up all those centuries. My candidate finally won!" "Oh, um, oh..." Cameron fell to his knees, head spinning. "I'll be your advisor! Aren't you excited? I can't wait!" "Oh good..." Cameron murmured, fading into unconsciousness. \# Wrote right before bed, sorry for lack of detail.	The chosen candidate stared at the musket in his hands, then stared at the God sitting before him. The so called God was some schmuck in a sappy looking leather jerkin, a beaten up sword tied to his belt, and eating an drinking something from an ornate waterskin. "Great! Chosen by the least powerful God, given a shitty musket and thrown into a murder death kill contest." "Battle Royale. That's what we decided to call it." interjects the God, taking a drink from his wineskin, wiping some drops from his lips with his sleeve. "And I resent being called least powerful. I..." he trails off preemptively "Yeh? Well why cant you give me something better than a shitty musket?" the man angrily swings it like a club, the God leaning back just enough for it to brush his eyelashes. "Well if you want to..." the God trails off again expectantly. "Forget it, I don't want to know!" the man growls in frustration at his missed swing. The God only noding with a smirk. "I don't care about you, and your stupid battle Royale. I'm going to go club them all with a musket, and when I become a God, I'll club all of you with it as well!" he mumbles loubly, storming off swinging his improvised musket club. "They never do want to hear the explanation. Just because I never do anything doesn't mean I'm weak. It's not my fault all worthy of my attention are already willing to club everyone with a musket? Call me weak you bastards! But remember, my guys always win!" laughs the God of heroes saluting the departing man with his wineskin before taking another sip.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I blink. What the fuck just happened? One minute I'm laying in bed, catching up on some youtube videos - and suddenly I'm not anymore... I'm on a couch? It didn't feel like I moved, like anything happened at all, I just suddenly am here now. Everything has a weird kind of feeling to it, it's hard to describe, almost like an aura you could almost see - it just feels off. But, this looks like a normal enough living room. The carpets are nice, this couch is comfortable... There's a man sitting in that recliner over there, is he watching TV? "Hello?" He looks over my way slowly, his slender pale face looked quizzical at first, then his eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah, that was today - right..." He let out an audible sigh and the television went dark in front of him. I just realized, I'm still just in a pair of boxers... not even the kind with a button, stupid open flap ones. He motions to the end of the couch I'm on as his chair turns toward me. "You'll probably need to learn how to shoot that" a gun that resembles a musket is seated next to me, it's got one of those cheap bows from walmart stuck to it - even has the price tag still on the base. 39 cents? How long has that bow been sitting around for? "Uhhh, can I ask why" I'm not so sure I want to know though. "Well, one of the gods has decided he was done and just up and left. Now we gotta have this big battle to see which mortal is suited to become the next god, yadda yadda" "Wait, hold on... no really, yadda yadda? I'm gonna fight against people and it's a 'yadda yadda?' "Well, they don't call me the god of Laziness for nothing" Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into? "God of Laziness?" "Present" "... Okay, first question - why me? "Oh, well a lot of the other gods spent time searching the earth for someone who was suited - someone who would rise to the occasion, painstakingly checking every single... Oh god that just sounded so BORING. I picked you out of a hat." "What?" ...WHAT!?! "I'm kidding! Actually it's a bit much to describe, but I developed a way to speak to the earth itself and listen to what she has to say. It's really handy for when you don't want to do anything but need to know about things on earth" "... are you joking again, orrrr" "Nope, took me 20 years to figure out a way, but it has saved me countless hours since" ...Isn't that kind of amazing in it's own way? I guess that's why he's the GOD of laziness He smiled a bit "She said you were the person I'd get along with best, which is great because the only guy I even liked up here just up and left his seat." "Who was that anyway?" "God of Sex, dude was a FREAK - but he just was too much to handle" Wait, does that mean... "So, I could be the next God of Sex?" He laughed... a lot... and just when he was winding it down, he looked back up at me and he just started laughing even harder. "So, what kind of god would I become?" I asked once he finally quieted down a bit. "I actually don't know," He shrugged slightly "You just kind of know when it happens" That... is not reassuring. "My weapon is a gun, I assume the fights are to the death?" "You assume correctly" "And, can I assume that you all being gods will either protect us or resurrect anyone who dies?" "You don't assume quite as correctly on that one" Ah fuck... "There is some worse news," he continued "I'm kind of bottom of the totem pole up here - so I can't really grant you any 'powers' like superhuman strength, or anything good really... I mean I kind of even had the weapon over there for you on 'auto pick' because I was choosing last and Artemis took for fucking EVER" "Auto pick?" "Yeah, I won't go into details, but basically I let the earth choose the weapon then used a 'stand in' to actually pick it. I came back to watch some more anime" ... I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die fucking horribly, this is awesome. "So, wait a minute - earth chose this for me?" I looked at the gun, it really looks like a musket... "She said something about some of the most lopsided wars in terms of casualties were fought when one side had this weapon" "That sounds like some REALLY flimsy logic" "Yeah, I probably should have been there. Could have at least taken the gist of the advice and gotten you a more modern gun - but hey what can you do? Half these dolts chose to have their 'champions' wield spears and shit, in this day and age. My money is on the Goddess of self-importance, she got a trained hitman - and apparently chose an AR-15 as his weapon. I mean, she may be in the same boat as me in terms of bestowing powers - but she really put some effort into this" I really wish I was back home. "Ah, but don't worry too much. I have a plan, I mean I REALLY do want someone up here who gets me - and Earth said you were a cool dude so I put some effort into this" "And that plan is?" "...Wouldn't you rather get dressed first?" --- After getting dressed and spending a little time in the 'killing fields' learning how to load and fire the musket, I came to the realization that this 'weapon' is definitely going to get me killed... He spent some time explaining the 'plan' - or half-explaining, difficult questions often answered with "Wing it!"... This only reassured me that I am totally screwed. We went back to his house and I found myself in thought, sitting at a table, much too long of one - this thing must be 40 feet long... and this room - the dining room, why is this room so much more elegant than the rest of his house? "I see you are admiring the tasteful decor, yeah I hate it." "... Then why don't you change it?" He just smiled and nodded as he reached for the hot pocket in front of him... I might not have even assumed whatever he was eating was a hot-pocket... but it's resting on the box, he's using the box as a plate... "OH!" he exclaimed, with a mouth full of hotpocket "I almost forgot, the name is John" "... I'm Mark - Mark Jacobs... I'm sure you knew that though... Do you gods have last names?" "Nope, I'm just John. Always has been that way" "I'm not gonna question it, I'm sure you chose that name with great care" "I uh, I don't even remember. It's been so long. At first they had me running this place, let me tell you that was a mess... I don't even want to get into it. But a couple years back I turned that over to some new guy who seemed promising, he left sometime after that though and it's changed hands once or twice. It's too bad, I really liked that guy, went by 'Zeus' I think..." ... I just heard something very troubling. "You used to run... Heaven? ... what do you call this place?" "Close enough, but like I said - I don't want to get into it." "But c'mon, you used to RUN the place, you have to have some special powers or something right? How did you go from-" "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" his eyes took a serious look Oops, hit a nerve... better back it off a bit "Okay, I'm sorry John. You're right, let's just focus on the task at hand" I looked down at the gun I had now resting against my chair, and then forward to the hot pocket John had made for me, it was resting on a paper towel folded over a couple times - the grease soaking through the first layer entirely. I didn't feel so good - eating was definitely out of the question "So, it's a Battle Royale style fight?" "Yeah, Artemis was so insistent on that - she apparently went and saw The Hunger Games in theaters - she's been obsessed since" Of course. "I play a bit of PUBG so the idea has grown on me" And of course. "I know we went over the plan before, like half-assedly glazed over it, but how long will I have to wait? When does the fight begin?" He slowly turned his head toward the clock on the wall. "Well as for how long you have to wait, I packed some provisions in the bag - should make it pass in no time. And for when the fight starts - we got 3 minutes yet" "... I really hope that's another joke" "Yeah, it was" he smiled "It's time now." And again, I'm just here. At least this time, I know where I am. The trees, that river, I'm 350 out from my target area. Time for a hike I guess. I was going to have to make my way along this river, but I stopped to check the bag to see what 'provisions' John had packed for me Backpack contents: Beef Jerky, one pack Water canteen, filled with mountain dew for some reason The 'secret weapon'... Tissues, one box Lotion, one bottle Porno Mags... like 20, seriously most of the weight of this damned bag was paper! I am not going to spend my time like that. Besides, this area is actually tiny, I can't imagine that the wait will be that long. I'd better get to the spot and get deployed. --- (cont.)	The chosen candidate stared at the musket in his hands, then stared at the God sitting before him. The so called God was some schmuck in a sappy looking leather jerkin, a beaten up sword tied to his belt, and eating an drinking something from an ornate waterskin. "Great! Chosen by the least powerful God, given a shitty musket and thrown into a murder death kill contest." "Battle Royale. That's what we decided to call it." interjects the God, taking a drink from his wineskin, wiping some drops from his lips with his sleeve. "And I resent being called least powerful. I..." he trails off preemptively "Yeh? Well why cant you give me something better than a shitty musket?" the man angrily swings it like a club, the God leaning back just enough for it to brush his eyelashes. "Well if you want to..." the God trails off again expectantly. "Forget it, I don't want to know!" the man growls in frustration at his missed swing. The God only noding with a smirk. "I don't care about you, and your stupid battle Royale. I'm going to go club them all with a musket, and when I become a God, I'll club all of you with it as well!" he mumbles loubly, storming off swinging his improvised musket club. "They never do want to hear the explanation. Just because I never do anything doesn't mean I'm weak. It's not my fault all worthy of my attention are already willing to club everyone with a musket? Call me weak you bastards! But remember, my guys always win!" laughs the God of heroes saluting the departing man with his wineskin before taking another sip.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	“........... A musket.” I muttered slightly annoyed “You’ve been given a great power.” Said this odd somewhat feeble old man of a god. He said it as if he was parting wisdom but I’m still filled with hollow hope and trembling with dread. I believed in maybe a god and pretended to know a few others out of respect or avoiding awkward confrontations, but this guy? With a name like Tempus you’d think I’d get something more powerful or at least cool looking. Now I just get to die with an antique given to me by, well...... an antique of a man. No magic, no added strength, not even speed to runaway, just a musket. I had fired a musket before, sure, but it was just to fend off wolves on my uncles farm a few times. Mother hated violence and was livid when she found out, so my few months of practice ended years ago with a harsh grounding. “And when is this tournament?” I asked with great grief . With an almost smug grin he immediately replied, “4 hours, 16 minutes, and 33 seconds.” As if it was common knowledge. “Can I at least practice?” He handed me a bag full of gunpowder and another with bullets. “Of course! Be wary though, as you only have 4 hours, 15 minutes, and 17 seconds left to do so.” My eyes almost rolled so far back into my head I thought I was about to read my own mind. “Practice hard, Champion. You may only get one shot.” He added as I swung the musket over my shoulder to go practice. It wasn’t hard to brush up my skills but I eventually had to take care with my shots, as I started to run out of ammunition. Blasting apples out of trees seemed harmless and a hard enough target. The old man appeared before me right after I spent the last blast on some low hanging fruit. “It’s time!” He shouted holding a finger in the air. “Watch it! I don’t want to get in trouble for shooting a god in the face! A second sooner and I might’ve made my shot! Plus, plus, my apple did I hit the-.” “Of course, Champion! See for yourself!” He gleefully waved his hand to show what was an obliterated apple barely hanging by it’s stem. I caught my breath, now slightly embarrassed I replied, “Oh, hey sorry abo-“ He interrupted me again. “ No time, no time, here is your ammunition and we’re off to the challenge!” Before I could even get another word in he snapped and I was all of a sudden behind a barred gate on the edge of a massive coliseum. Thunderous roars of people and otherworldly beings in the stands almost made it impossible to gather my thoughts and calm down. The heat of the sun cast intense shadows and kicked up hot sand. I tried my best to stare across the way. Sizing up just the few contenders I could see from where I stood I knew I was screwed. There was a man with a fiery rage in his eyes, or maybe it actually was fire, wearing nothing but his rage and a loincloth. Another cage had some monstrous four legged being with tentacles for a face. I couldn’t decide if it’d be more painful to be hit by it or be turned into whatever that thing was. To my shock, his neighbor appeared to be dead in the next gate over. What I assumed used to be a giant was now more of a contorted flesh made rag you’d use to mop up blood. I take it his god didn’t take these small spaces cells into account so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. With thunder and a lightning strike made of every shade of color I’ve seen before hitting center arena, the gates lifted. I panicked and hid in the shadow of my cell. I was so preoccupied with my situation I hadn’t even loaded the musket. I open my bags and- WHAT, one bullet!? This has to be a mistake, this has to be a mistake! Whatever, I loaded it and was pretty prepared to use it on myself but hey, let’s at least watch this fight first. Shrieks of pain, rain of blood splatters, metal clanging, roars of elements shooting across sides of the arena. I didn’t stand a chance, bodies were almost in huge piles now and I wasn’t eager to be added to the list. “How many gods are there?” I muttered to myself. With just a few minutes there was almost silence again. I suddenly heard the roar of the man with fire in his eyes as he hurled flames in all directions. There were a few other champions still alive but surely about to die from intense burns. The tentacled....... dog..... thing, well it didn’t seem phased at all as it leaped to the chest of the fiery man. Things were getting reckless and I was afraid of getting hit with a loose fireball. I’d like to at least not die at the starting line. I crawled my way under a pile of bodies and beings near the center of the arena. I figured this would be the last place anyone would look. As I peered out from the limbs I could see the fight taking place again. The tentacle dog had a good grip on the fiery man’s throat now, he was finally losing blood. Then a nasty rip sound cut through the air, the fiery man had used what must’ve been pure adrenaline and rage to rip the tentacle dog in half. His eyes blared with flames as he walked my way with slow stomps of bloodlust. It was as if he was staring right at me. I twisted and fumbled around for my musket readying the weapon to fire when- THUMP. I flinched with my eyes closed sure that he had found me in the pile. Another THUMP and a tentacles came down from the top of the pile hanging into my face. I wanted to scream but the air had left my lungs. The stomps slowly distances theirselves in sound. I looked through the limbs again to catch a glimpse of death before it took me and I saw the fiery man with a fist in the air looking at the crowds in the stands. They stood patiently quiet, almost horrified, yet no cheer. This obviously drove the fiery man wild as he started to scream and roar at them like in animal pumping his blood soaked fist in the air for validation. This is it, he hasn’t won yet, this is obviously a battle to the death and one contender remains, me. I caught my breath and steadied my barrel. The hot sand was blowing into my eyes so I adjusted the limbs for coverage in my hiding hole of gore. I waited to get a glimpse in the small sandstorm of his rage. I need something to aim for, yet he moved about yelling at his audience in fury. Then his gaze shot over me at the judging beings in the stands behind me and that’s when I saw it, my shot. His eyes flaming a yellowish orange like ripening apples, I caught my breath and let loose my best aimed shot ever. BANG I looked for my target and it was gone, his head, gone. Silence lasted as the fiery man’s body fell to its knees until finally going limp to the ground. Cheer bursted from every angle and shook the ground I laid on. I arose from the pile of death and raised my musket with pride now. Clapping soon followed the cheer as I assume they were impressed just as I was at me being alive. Then I was suddenly standing before the old man by the apple tree looking like a gloating fool, but I didn’t care, I felt more alive then ever. “Well done champion!” His voice rang with pride and I was not as annoyed to hear him this time. “Did I do it? Am I a god now!?” I blurted barely containing myself. “Of course! Why do you think they were cheering?” He asked in that smug way old men speak. “I just, I just didn’t think I’d make it. I mean all I had is this musket. How did, how did you know?” I asked in a prying manner. “I didn’t, that’s all I could conjure. I’m pretty preoccupied with a the times and I knew you had fired a musket before. Plus you’re a decent man compared to the bandits and warriors who were on that battlefield.” He ended his sentence with a warming smile. I didn’t know what to say, “Thanks?” He patted me on the back,” No boy, thank you. You e made me proud and assured no monster would take place in our pantheon. Plus, I get to show them all that old man time is nothing to be laughed at.” I was surprised at his reply and still slightly confused. I pressed further, “Wait, you have the power of time and you gave me a musket and one bullet? Wha- how- are you crazy or just plain mean?” He smirked, “Dear boy, don’t you know Tempus stands for time? You have the powers of time yourself, I just need you to use it right. I couldn’t give you a bunch of bullets to go willy nilly shooting in everything that moved. I needed you to be sure, so that you’d use your power of time.” Still confused I asked, “What power of time do I have?” He smiled at me, reminded me of grandfather in this light, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Timing boy, good timing”	The chosen candidate stared at the musket in his hands, then stared at the God sitting before him. The so called God was some schmuck in a sappy looking leather jerkin, a beaten up sword tied to his belt, and eating an drinking something from an ornate waterskin. "Great! Chosen by the least powerful God, given a shitty musket and thrown into a murder death kill contest." "Battle Royale. That's what we decided to call it." interjects the God, taking a drink from his wineskin, wiping some drops from his lips with his sleeve. "And I resent being called least powerful. I..." he trails off preemptively "Yeh? Well why cant you give me something better than a shitty musket?" the man angrily swings it like a club, the God leaning back just enough for it to brush his eyelashes. "Well if you want to..." the God trails off again expectantly. "Forget it, I don't want to know!" the man growls in frustration at his missed swing. The God only noding with a smirk. "I don't care about you, and your stupid battle Royale. I'm going to go club them all with a musket, and when I become a God, I'll club all of you with it as well!" he mumbles loubly, storming off swinging his improvised musket club. "They never do want to hear the explanation. Just because I never do anything doesn't mean I'm weak. It's not my fault all worthy of my attention are already willing to club everyone with a musket? Call me weak you bastards! But remember, my guys always win!" laughs the God of heroes saluting the departing man with his wineskin before taking another sip.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"It's... a musket." I couldn't believe what I had in my hands. Well, I couldn't believe where I was, why I was there, who I was with, and what I had in my hands but the first three were of little importance since this tournament was going to happen with me in it regardless if I thought I should participate or not. I inspected the weapon more closely. The muzzle was jagged and flared out, tubes were sprouting in and out of the barrel and some sort of compass has been soldered to the breech. It was ugly, unbalanced and heavier than a dead donkey. "I know it doesn't look like much but trust me, I've been working on this baby for two millennia and I'm pretty sure it's working." Replies Omnia. She was nodding vehemently but her head kept bobbing left and right at the same time, making her look like one of those little figurines people of questionable taste put in their car. I let out the musket with one hand to massage my forehead. I sighed. My life has been a series of failures up until now and now I've been thrown in this mess for no reason nor time to prepare. I'm sure I'll fail, I always fail, and I'll die. Or worse, make a fool of myself. "Why did you even chose me again!?" I ask, a bit more aggressively than I wanted. Omnia yawns. "I told you, you're my most zealous follower! I couldn't have chosen a better avatar than you." "But I never prayed you! I didn't even know you existed up until 30 minutes ago!" The goddess shrugs and her whole body waggles. She looks like she could lose balance at any time. "Well I guess you just didn't realize what you were doing. Won't change from the usual, am I right." I glares at her, split between anger and desperation. She coughs and pushes her long silky white hair away from her face. "Sorry for that." An awkward silence passes by to say hi, uninvited. "Listen, I know it's a lot to process, but have faith. Just aim at your opponent and trust your guts. You've been born to hold this weapon." I was in the middle of interjecting once again when a voice blasted out in the corridor. "Avatar Mikaza-Ol-Erun and Avatar Joe!" My shoulders slumped down and I bit my cheek to not break into tears. Omnia put her hand on my arm and gave me a tired smile. "You can do it. I'm sure of it." She said before letting out yet another loud yawn. It's at this precise moment I became convinced gods could make mistakes. § The arena was nothing but a large empty room paved with white marble tiles. As large as a soccer field, it had no place to run nor hide. 50 meters away from me I could see her: Mikaza-Ol-Erun, my opponent, a beast of a woman, already ready to charge at me. A glowing blue mist was oozing from her back, already taking frightening forms of horror long forgotten. Suddenly a swirl of red light materialized in the center of the arena and took the shape of a cloaked figure. “Avatars, as per the ancient rules of the universe, you’ve been chosen by your respective gods because of your outstanding qualities. You’ll fight each other in the Hall of Judgment until one of you lose the will to fight or death come claim their soul. You are free to use any tactic you may wish as well as the boon bestowed upon you by your sponsor. Through your actions Hall of Judgement will gauge your worthiness to becom…“ The apparition was still talking but I couldn’t focus anymore. Behind them, Mikaza was licking her lips. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. In her open hand was a mist construct of my face distorted by terror and pain. I tightened my grip on my gun until my knuckles turned white. “… since neither of you want to step down, may the fight begin!” “Wait, wha-!” But the cloaked silhouette already disappeared in a cloud of red flames. Mikaza was running at me screaming, leading a ghostly army of misshapen monsters! I took a step back but my shaking legs refused to hold me up. I fell on my back in a pitiful groan. I’m pathetic. I shouldn’t be there. It’s not fair! I tried to calm down my hands in vain. The musket was trembling and smoking in my loose grasp. Great, and I broke this bloody thing when I fall! Still, what other choice did I have? I aimed the best I could at the grinning juggernaut charging me and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I’m going to die like an idiot, sitting on my sorry butt I pulled the trigger again, and again. Still nothing. Already her blue mist was crawling around me. She was only ten meters away. I closed my eyes and tensed my muscles. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this. FUCK THIS LIFE! Suddenly the dial on the breech lightened up and a roar surged through the cannon “HAHA YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! YOU’RE SO DUMB MIKI.” A childish voice resonated against the Hall’s walls. Mizaka wasn’t smiling nor running anymore. A jet of colors gushed out of the gun’s muzzle and splatters against the marble walls, depicting a crying girl, mouth and hands smeared red, holding a ragged doll. “I’M SORRY MIKI, YOU’RE GREAT AND ALL BUT IT’S JUST NOT WORKING OUT FOR ME.” Continued the disembodied voice, taking a more virile tone. The murals were now depicting a young woman, too big and too clumsy for the white summer dress she was wearing. “SUUUURE YOU CAN COME. I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T GET THE INVITATION LIKE EVERYONE ELSE…” Mizaka was standing still now, observing the scenes displayed on the wall. Her eldritch army was dissipating behind her. The voice continued to morph, becoming in turn male or female, young or old, while more images of her life were broadcast for everyone to see. Finally, she fell on her knees, holding her chest. “I give up. Just make it stop.” The dial on the musket turned off and silence returned. Neither of us dared to move. I looked down at the gun I was holding, terrified by what it has done. Suddenly the hooded figure made of light reappeared in the middle of the room and shouted cheerfully: “And the winner of this round is Joe! Avatar of Ines Omnia goddess of-” A second passes “-of ‘those desperate moments at 3AM where you just want to sleep but keep thinking about all the cringiest moments and failures of your life’!”	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	\|\|\\UPDATED\\\|\| &#x200B; "It takes a long time to load, Maron. It's old, older than the Twelve." "If it's older than the Twelve, why is it a musket?" "M-musket," the God of Ire spat. "How dare!" "Calm, steady, Ire, calm. The boy doesn't know." "He's not the right choice Murr, he isn't and you know it!" "He is the right choice! He was the one who was chosen." "You swear by it," the red faced calamity clapped. Murr stood for the first time, he towered above all, even those within the Twelve. It was said that he was of the first gods, that he was older than the blue planet, older even than the sun, that he came when the first Bang! broke across the universe. No other immortal looked like him. "Never. Question." The God of Ire grumpily turned away, "All Hail," he muttered. "Now, take hold, I said. Take hold," Murr said before shoving the musket-like thing into my hands. "This is the Horn of Ishka. In your history the Japanese have said from its tip dripped the land of the rising sun. Christians have called it the Spear of Destiny. Ancient Egyptians said it is the staff of Anubis. They're all wrong, seeing what they want to see. It is like seeing a cellphone and calling it a book of light." "A cell what?" "Nothing. In time you will understand. Now listen carefully soldier, it takes some time to load." "Like a musket." "It's not a musket," the God of Ire shouted in rage. Guards approached them in front of the coliseum, "I'm going to have everyone but the Champions, step back." "I'm a God" roared Ire furiously again. "Sure bud, who prays to you? Calling himself a God, can you believe this guy Pete?" Pete chuckled and just shook his head. "Now listen pal, back it up with the flames. They aren't scaring anybody," the guard proclaimed as he moved the two gods back. "Listen to me Maron! Listen! Just trust in it," he shouted after me. "Trust!" &#x200B; \|\|UPDATE\|\| &#x200B; The metal gates shut loudly behind me. I found myself in a group of other champions. A large beast creature stood next to me in half armor. He turned to me, revealing his pig snout and snorted, "What's that you got there? A musket?" I didn't know how to reply, so I just clutched my weapon in my hand. "To the back with you then," he grunted. The pig beast turned to face our band of scraggly fighters, with his shoulders towering us he said, "I am Jaime de la Ring. During my time on Earth I was a pig, not a boar, not a bull, just a pig. But I fought nearly a hundred of battles against larger enemies. My stage was much like this one, where I jousted with Matadors. Slaying them in their turf, in their land, in front of their families. Always the underpig. Today I once again, have the unlucky draw of life to banded with you lot for the first round. Those that survive this round will then qualify to fight individually for the Gods. I am not going to lie to you, many of you will die. But when I win this tournament, and be granted as the immortal swine, I will ask the Twelve to grant you all a chance of life, for you have all had the grace to share in this moment with me, this moment of my..guh...guh...gurrh!" "You talk to much," said a slithering voice behind the falling pig. Jaime de la Ring broke to his knees and fell face first in the sand, dead. A reptilian figure withdrew its fanged steel from between the pig warrior's shoulder blades. It had curved in such a way that it pierced the poor beast's heart. The gates began to roll up in front of me, the blinding light pooled into our small crevice as I heard a scream from behind, as the voices around me grew to a roar; we rushed out onto the sand. Already arrows darkened the sky as a man with a horse's head and sparrow's wings pulled back a majestic bow. Globs of fire lobbed by an ogre melted the sand into glass as shards were sent into enemies by a large black feline's hind legs. I saw the slithering snake I had been with, shouting at him to wait, but he had jumped head first into the sand and disappeared, only to reappear nearby - tripping a tanned Amazonian by wrapping his body around her. Something exploded nearby and I became half buried in sand, the explosion still ringing in my ears, the dust still heavy on my face. I laid flat. So much for everything they said, so much for all of the hope they gave me. How did this happen? Why was I here? Only a few hours ago I was standing in Purgatory. When these two figures began scouting down the line. "No, not this one." "What about this one? Looks nice and strong." The two peered into a bag and seemed to whisper something. "No, not that one," said the taller god as his head emerged from the bag. "Him?" "No, not him." "Well which is it!" the God of Ire said angrily. "It says we are close." "Are you sure it's not broken?" "Of course it isn't broken," the taller god said. "This thing is older than time itself, you don't just go living on older than time if you could easily be broken." "Well, maybe its got some kind of master plan that we're unaware of. Maybe it's not even trying to help us look for our champion. Maybe it's looking to help the real champion. Now listen here, if that's the case. I want no part of it, do you hear me Graylo? I am a winner. I win. I won't be some-" "Hush, Ire, hush. It can hear you. It can judge." "All hail," Ire mumbled grumpily. "Him," the one named Graylo pointed at me. "It's him." "Him?" "Me?" That's when Graylo hurriedly pushed the musket-like thing into my hands. "Why did you do that!" Ire shouted unhappily. "You know the thing binds, now we can never remove it unless he dies." "Because it's him." Graylo motions for a small green turtle sitting on a cloud, "Get the papers. We want him to represent us." The little horned thing took one long look at me and seemed to mutter under his breath, but then nodded to the two gods and left. Graylo took one long handed finger and pulled me from the line. "Wait, but my place. I was about to be sorted, weighed, balanced." "Hush, boy, hush. It's overrated, believe me. I've seen it millions of times. Nobody is ever really happy about where they're going. The one's that are, are already there. You're better off coming with us. We will make you into a God." So there I was, out of one war just to be thrown into battle in the next. Granted, waiting in purgatory was a killer waste of time, but this, tournament? Death? How can a dead man die twice? Could possibly grant me godly status? I mean, what does that involve? Women? Drink? Gold? It would be something to be worshiped, eh? Mother always said I would amount fairly but never greatness. Well, to hell with her. I gripped the musket in my hands and forced my feet to stand. The flying horse-man had been pulled from the sky, one its wings were ripped off its back. It gripped the bow loosely in the hand, limping away on bloodied ankles. The creature was the closest to me so I rushed the nearly defenseless thing and struck him with my musket. The useless thing might have as well bounced off a wall. The horse-man turned to look at me angrily. I gripped and nearly stumbled backwards. The horse-man looked larger than he was before, his eyes turned red as the demon of an apocalypse, steam rose from his nostrils as he pulled up the bow and drew back its string. That's when his neck cracked, bent was more like it. I could see the fear in his eyes as the air in his throat lodged itself in his bent neck. A lump the size of a small baby burst threatened to burst from his skin. The horse-man cried out, "Auuurgh," reaching a heavy hand to grip me. So I struck him again. This time on his outstretched arm. For a second nothing happened, but then his arm fell from the weight that grew underneath his skin, crashing to the sand as it was engorged to the size of a cow. Emboldened by the staff, I struck him again and again, creating a gigantic, bubbling, pus filled mass where the horse-man once stood. I struck many other champions with my staff throughout the day. Even the ground to escape to a higher platform from my enemies. I figured the staff could even break things down. It could construct and deconstruct at the simple form of a touch. It could create what was indestructible. At the end of the first round I was greeted by Graylo and the God of Ire. "My boy! You've done," Graylo exclaimed. "I knew you would," he said proudly holding up the black bag that he had been religiously carrying. "It's never wrong." "What's in there Graylo," I asked him. The giant god seemed to hunch over and somehow made himself appear smaller. His hunched figure created a near shelter for the three of us, as he ushered me closer, blotting out most of the sun. "Are you insane, Graylo? Out here in the open?" "Don't fret, Ire, don't fret. I am shielding us from view." "What is it Graylo? What?" "It's one of the oldest objects I have ever come across." Ire sneered, "Now that's saying something." Graylo ignored him. "It has many rules. But the one simplest, truest rule, is never ask it anything you don't want the absolute answer to, for whatever it says, it will tell come to pass, no matter what." "No matter what?" "No matter what." "Can I see it?" Graylo looked dismayed, "Well, I don't-" "Oh come on, it's the least you could do," I reached for the bag and pulled open the string. The velvet black cloth fell apart and revealed a hard porcelain-like object. "The magic conch," the two of them breathed.	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	Within the warm brown hand of Itri, the weapon was the most damnedest thing he saw. His patron had slipped it into his hand when it was his turned to be acknowledged at the trial of the twenty-two. Out of all the weapons Itri had seen, the fool's felt so inadequate against them. He had seen curved swords with serrated edges and runes of flame that burned down the center of the black metal. He had seen long chain whips with prongs that could punch through armor and which lightning would ride down the length so that if the puncture did not kill a man, the electricity would finish them off. He tilted the pistol, he admitted, even though it was not the most opportune moment to appraise the artifact granted to him by a god, the pistol looked great. The frame of the gun was carved out of smooth ivory that secured a dark gray barrel to the pistol. Near the end of the metal tube, where the breach and the touch hole were located, gold leaf decorated the metal in a flowery pattern. The end of the barrel was not shaped like a normal pistol, it had no rounded end. Instead, the barrel had been shaped to the face of a man with a wide-open maw in which hell could erupt from. By Itri's reckoning whatever destruction it could wreak paled as a streak of blue lit up his face. He could hear the cry of a man struck by the Empress' Handmaiden, the woman with the whip. He blinked and looked up across the field of battle to see she had slain the Emperor's man, the one with the mace. Itri recalled that if that mace had even touched a subject, their bones would turn to dust. He had to congratulate the smart move on the Handmaiden, she dealt with the threat quick. The other bodies had littered the arena. Quite the spectacle, Itri had to agree from where he stood in the corner. All twenty-two were to be joined in a battle, but he noticed most had gone after each other. Eager to bring down the greater threats before turning on the Fool's man with his little pistol. Itri had to thank the Handmaiden and the way she brought the whip down. She had actually killed the Tower's spearman as he sized up Itri for the kill. What did the Tower's spear even do? Itri thought. He imagined it did something better than his pistol. He jerked his head up as he heard the soft whistle overhead. The prongs of the Handmaid's whip lashed out towards him. If he had not jumped behind the column it may have been all over. The prongs buried themselves deep into the dark green marble. He could hear the clink of chains as she tried to extract the barbed end. "Uhm... would... would you take my surrender?" Itri asked. "I would. Just kneel before me and I'll make it quick." The Handmaid said after she grunted and pulled at the chain. "I would have preferred that I survive my surrender," He stepped around. Her hair was a mound of curled brunette against the soft fawn-skin. With a sudden jerk, she had pulled the whip's prongs from the column. The chain sailed and fell behind her as she turned to face him. Itri had the pistol drawn, the barrel-shaped as the Fool's head pointed at her. "You think that bullet could travel quick enough before my tip found you?" She asked, her eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess for my sake I better hope so." He squeezed the trigger before she could carry her threat. There was a jerk of the ivory pistol followed by a puff of gray smoke. As the fog cleared he saw a flag had sprung from the pistol. The cloth was was red with words in white: BANG! "Heh... the Fool's gift mocks you," The Handmaid laughed once... then twice. Then she burst into laughter, her long hair whipped behind her as she continued to laugh. At first, the laugh had sound forced, urged on by her contempt for Itri the Fool's Champion. But as she continued he found her laugh had turned genuine and then maddening, a constant guffaw that reverberated and echoed off the walls until it was not only her laugh but the laugh of hundreds. It was a laughter of contempt, but Itri found it was no longer laughter at him, but laughter at the entire bloody spectacle that had filled the arena. When it all ended, it ended in a few errant giggles as she lowered her head and he saw blood run down her nose and in her eyes. "Heh..." was the Empress' Handmaiden's last word before she pitched forward and landed hard on the stone ground. Itri stood alone. He looked above to see the assemblage of the Gods who had begun to clap for him.	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	Cameron stared at the musket dangling on a string of gold. It was almost entirely wood, save for a few strips of shiny silver. Two cartoony, golden, almost plastic angel wings were attached near the barrel, like something from a children's toy. She - her name, confusingly - pranced over to the gun, her hazy silhouette bobbing up and down. She, her face manifested as a minimalistic outline, gave Cameron a smile. "Thoughts?" "It, um, what is it?" "Your weapon!" She declared, smile forced wider. "A musket?" Cameron glanced between She and her weapon. "Brandon was bragging about superspeed. Airi can make force fields-" "Well we're on a budget." She grabbed the musket and thrust it into Cameron's arms. "How am I supposed to-" "Hold on, almost forgot the string," She said, snapping her fingers. The golden string unwound from the wooden beam above. A moment later, it whirled around the musket's wings, outlining the feathers. "Looks much better now, eh?" Cameron bit his lower lip. "Yep, way better." "Fantastic, I'm so glad you like it," She said. "Do you know how to shoot a musket?" "I'm a carpenter." "Yeah, yeah, but you could've had, like, a sharpshooting hobby, right?" "No." "Excellent." She paused. "Okay, Cameron, I'm gonna need you to trust me." "Sure." As if he had a choice. "Okay, so, I don't have a gun you can practice with." "Right," Cameron said. "And you can't practice with the musket." "Can't practice with-" Cameron fiddled with his words. "I don't know how to shoot a gun. Aren't-" He paused. "Aren't muskets even more difficult to use than normal?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, definitely. But, um, well you should be fine," She said. "That string is lucky, understand? It'll help you out. Definitely. I spent all my Divinity on it, so it ought to be high quality." Cameron gripped the musket. "Don't worry, it's not like you'll die," She said, waving her hand. "Just pull the trigger once and BAM, you'll win in a jiffy." \# Brandon ran circles around the arena, only visible through brief flashes of light. Much to his sponsor's annoyance, he had decided taunting his enemies was more productive than ending the fight in a moment. "Come on, shoot me! Try it!" Brandon said, laughing. His silhouette flashed around as Cameron tried to take aim. "Just fire!" She called from the side. "Oh, forget it," Cameron muttered. He pulled the trigger, aiming where he last saw Brandon's flash. There was no thunder, bang, or fizz. The wings merely fluttered for a moment before falling off. Brandon stopped to laugh. Cameron glanced at his opponent's sponsor, Orthun. He looked dead serious. "YES!" She cried. Cameron looked to her, finding that she was jumping and waving her arms around, or at least as well as a humanoid haze could. "YES, YES, YES!!" There was a fizz and a pop. A cool breeze brushed against Cameron's right cheek. The wings floated up, then dissolved into black dust. The lights around the arena dimmed. Dirt and dust slowly swirled around Cameron in organized streams, weaving into a cloth-like substance. Frail hands grasped Cameron's shoulders. They were warm, almost comforting. However, Cameron found himself frozen, staring at the wretched, curved blade stuck in the ground in front of him. Its blade was polished, almost reflective as a mirror. Brandon stepped back, afraid. Orthun sighed and shook his head. "HIGH QUALITY!" She shouted, almost taunting, toward Orthun. "Mm, a succession contest?" a terribly bored voice sounded out. "I was called out for this? Oh, how annoying." A frail hand left Cameron's shoulders and snapped its fingers. Brandon turned pale and collapsed. The world blurred for a moment, And Cameron felt dizzy as the Being behind him returned to dirt. Orthun strolled over, slowly clapping. A woman blinked into existence next to Cameron, petite and terribly pale. Her face was freckled and round, and her dress rippled off her into streams of ethereal mist. "See, see, I told you to trust me!" the woman said. Cameron raised an eyebrow. "She?" "No, no," the woman said, waving her hand. "I'm Sheriliaa!" She threw her arm around his shoulders. "I've got a name now because of you! And a body! Oooh, it was worth saving up all those centuries. My candidate finally won!" "Oh, um, oh..." Cameron fell to his knees, head spinning. "I'll be your advisor! Aren't you excited? I can't wait!" "Oh good..." Cameron murmured, fading into unconsciousness. \# Wrote right before bed, sorry for lack of detail.	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I blink. What the fuck just happened? One minute I'm laying in bed, catching up on some youtube videos - and suddenly I'm not anymore... I'm on a couch? It didn't feel like I moved, like anything happened at all, I just suddenly am here now. Everything has a weird kind of feeling to it, it's hard to describe, almost like an aura you could almost see - it just feels off. But, this looks like a normal enough living room. The carpets are nice, this couch is comfortable... There's a man sitting in that recliner over there, is he watching TV? "Hello?" He looks over my way slowly, his slender pale face looked quizzical at first, then his eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah, that was today - right..." He let out an audible sigh and the television went dark in front of him. I just realized, I'm still just in a pair of boxers... not even the kind with a button, stupid open flap ones. He motions to the end of the couch I'm on as his chair turns toward me. "You'll probably need to learn how to shoot that" a gun that resembles a musket is seated next to me, it's got one of those cheap bows from walmart stuck to it - even has the price tag still on the base. 39 cents? How long has that bow been sitting around for? "Uhhh, can I ask why" I'm not so sure I want to know though. "Well, one of the gods has decided he was done and just up and left. Now we gotta have this big battle to see which mortal is suited to become the next god, yadda yadda" "Wait, hold on... no really, yadda yadda? I'm gonna fight against people and it's a 'yadda yadda?' "Well, they don't call me the god of Laziness for nothing" Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into? "God of Laziness?" "Present" "... Okay, first question - why me? "Oh, well a lot of the other gods spent time searching the earth for someone who was suited - someone who would rise to the occasion, painstakingly checking every single... Oh god that just sounded so BORING. I picked you out of a hat." "What?" ...WHAT!?! "I'm kidding! Actually it's a bit much to describe, but I developed a way to speak to the earth itself and listen to what she has to say. It's really handy for when you don't want to do anything but need to know about things on earth" "... are you joking again, orrrr" "Nope, took me 20 years to figure out a way, but it has saved me countless hours since" ...Isn't that kind of amazing in it's own way? I guess that's why he's the GOD of laziness He smiled a bit "She said you were the person I'd get along with best, which is great because the only guy I even liked up here just up and left his seat." "Who was that anyway?" "God of Sex, dude was a FREAK - but he just was too much to handle" Wait, does that mean... "So, I could be the next God of Sex?" He laughed... a lot... and just when he was winding it down, he looked back up at me and he just started laughing even harder. "So, what kind of god would I become?" I asked once he finally quieted down a bit. "I actually don't know," He shrugged slightly "You just kind of know when it happens" That... is not reassuring. "My weapon is a gun, I assume the fights are to the death?" "You assume correctly" "And, can I assume that you all being gods will either protect us or resurrect anyone who dies?" "You don't assume quite as correctly on that one" Ah fuck... "There is some worse news," he continued "I'm kind of bottom of the totem pole up here - so I can't really grant you any 'powers' like superhuman strength, or anything good really... I mean I kind of even had the weapon over there for you on 'auto pick' because I was choosing last and Artemis took for fucking EVER" "Auto pick?" "Yeah, I won't go into details, but basically I let the earth choose the weapon then used a 'stand in' to actually pick it. I came back to watch some more anime" ... I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die fucking horribly, this is awesome. "So, wait a minute - earth chose this for me?" I looked at the gun, it really looks like a musket... "She said something about some of the most lopsided wars in terms of casualties were fought when one side had this weapon" "That sounds like some REALLY flimsy logic" "Yeah, I probably should have been there. Could have at least taken the gist of the advice and gotten you a more modern gun - but hey what can you do? Half these dolts chose to have their 'champions' wield spears and shit, in this day and age. My money is on the Goddess of self-importance, she got a trained hitman - and apparently chose an AR-15 as his weapon. I mean, she may be in the same boat as me in terms of bestowing powers - but she really put some effort into this" I really wish I was back home. "Ah, but don't worry too much. I have a plan, I mean I REALLY do want someone up here who gets me - and Earth said you were a cool dude so I put some effort into this" "And that plan is?" "...Wouldn't you rather get dressed first?" --- After getting dressed and spending a little time in the 'killing fields' learning how to load and fire the musket, I came to the realization that this 'weapon' is definitely going to get me killed... He spent some time explaining the 'plan' - or half-explaining, difficult questions often answered with "Wing it!"... This only reassured me that I am totally screwed. We went back to his house and I found myself in thought, sitting at a table, much too long of one - this thing must be 40 feet long... and this room - the dining room, why is this room so much more elegant than the rest of his house? "I see you are admiring the tasteful decor, yeah I hate it." "... Then why don't you change it?" He just smiled and nodded as he reached for the hot pocket in front of him... I might not have even assumed whatever he was eating was a hot-pocket... but it's resting on the box, he's using the box as a plate... "OH!" he exclaimed, with a mouth full of hotpocket "I almost forgot, the name is John" "... I'm Mark - Mark Jacobs... I'm sure you knew that though... Do you gods have last names?" "Nope, I'm just John. Always has been that way" "I'm not gonna question it, I'm sure you chose that name with great care" "I uh, I don't even remember. It's been so long. At first they had me running this place, let me tell you that was a mess... I don't even want to get into it. But a couple years back I turned that over to some new guy who seemed promising, he left sometime after that though and it's changed hands once or twice. It's too bad, I really liked that guy, went by 'Zeus' I think..." ... I just heard something very troubling. "You used to run... Heaven? ... what do you call this place?" "Close enough, but like I said - I don't want to get into it." "But c'mon, you used to RUN the place, you have to have some special powers or something right? How did you go from-" "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" his eyes took a serious look Oops, hit a nerve... better back it off a bit "Okay, I'm sorry John. You're right, let's just focus on the task at hand" I looked down at the gun I had now resting against my chair, and then forward to the hot pocket John had made for me, it was resting on a paper towel folded over a couple times - the grease soaking through the first layer entirely. I didn't feel so good - eating was definitely out of the question "So, it's a Battle Royale style fight?" "Yeah, Artemis was so insistent on that - she apparently went and saw The Hunger Games in theaters - she's been obsessed since" Of course. "I play a bit of PUBG so the idea has grown on me" And of course. "I know we went over the plan before, like half-assedly glazed over it, but how long will I have to wait? When does the fight begin?" He slowly turned his head toward the clock on the wall. "Well as for how long you have to wait, I packed some provisions in the bag - should make it pass in no time. And for when the fight starts - we got 3 minutes yet" "... I really hope that's another joke" "Yeah, it was" he smiled "It's time now." And again, I'm just here. At least this time, I know where I am. The trees, that river, I'm 350 out from my target area. Time for a hike I guess. I was going to have to make my way along this river, but I stopped to check the bag to see what 'provisions' John had packed for me Backpack contents: Beef Jerky, one pack Water canteen, filled with mountain dew for some reason The 'secret weapon'... Tissues, one box Lotion, one bottle Porno Mags... like 20, seriously most of the weight of this damned bag was paper! I am not going to spend my time like that. Besides, this area is actually tiny, I can't imagine that the wait will be that long. I'd better get to the spot and get deployed. --- (cont.)	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	“........... A musket.” I muttered slightly annoyed “You’ve been given a great power.” Said this odd somewhat feeble old man of a god. He said it as if he was parting wisdom but I’m still filled with hollow hope and trembling with dread. I believed in maybe a god and pretended to know a few others out of respect or avoiding awkward confrontations, but this guy? With a name like Tempus you’d think I’d get something more powerful or at least cool looking. Now I just get to die with an antique given to me by, well...... an antique of a man. No magic, no added strength, not even speed to runaway, just a musket. I had fired a musket before, sure, but it was just to fend off wolves on my uncles farm a few times. Mother hated violence and was livid when she found out, so my few months of practice ended years ago with a harsh grounding. “And when is this tournament?” I asked with great grief . With an almost smug grin he immediately replied, “4 hours, 16 minutes, and 33 seconds.” As if it was common knowledge. “Can I at least practice?” He handed me a bag full of gunpowder and another with bullets. “Of course! Be wary though, as you only have 4 hours, 15 minutes, and 17 seconds left to do so.” My eyes almost rolled so far back into my head I thought I was about to read my own mind. “Practice hard, Champion. You may only get one shot.” He added as I swung the musket over my shoulder to go practice. It wasn’t hard to brush up my skills but I eventually had to take care with my shots, as I started to run out of ammunition. Blasting apples out of trees seemed harmless and a hard enough target. The old man appeared before me right after I spent the last blast on some low hanging fruit. “It’s time!” He shouted holding a finger in the air. “Watch it! I don’t want to get in trouble for shooting a god in the face! A second sooner and I might’ve made my shot! Plus, plus, my apple did I hit the-.” “Of course, Champion! See for yourself!” He gleefully waved his hand to show what was an obliterated apple barely hanging by it’s stem. I caught my breath, now slightly embarrassed I replied, “Oh, hey sorry abo-“ He interrupted me again. “ No time, no time, here is your ammunition and we’re off to the challenge!” Before I could even get another word in he snapped and I was all of a sudden behind a barred gate on the edge of a massive coliseum. Thunderous roars of people and otherworldly beings in the stands almost made it impossible to gather my thoughts and calm down. The heat of the sun cast intense shadows and kicked up hot sand. I tried my best to stare across the way. Sizing up just the few contenders I could see from where I stood I knew I was screwed. There was a man with a fiery rage in his eyes, or maybe it actually was fire, wearing nothing but his rage and a loincloth. Another cage had some monstrous four legged being with tentacles for a face. I couldn’t decide if it’d be more painful to be hit by it or be turned into whatever that thing was. To my shock, his neighbor appeared to be dead in the next gate over. What I assumed used to be a giant was now more of a contorted flesh made rag you’d use to mop up blood. I take it his god didn’t take these small spaces cells into account so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. With thunder and a lightning strike made of every shade of color I’ve seen before hitting center arena, the gates lifted. I panicked and hid in the shadow of my cell. I was so preoccupied with my situation I hadn’t even loaded the musket. I open my bags and- WHAT, one bullet!? This has to be a mistake, this has to be a mistake! Whatever, I loaded it and was pretty prepared to use it on myself but hey, let’s at least watch this fight first. Shrieks of pain, rain of blood splatters, metal clanging, roars of elements shooting across sides of the arena. I didn’t stand a chance, bodies were almost in huge piles now and I wasn’t eager to be added to the list. “How many gods are there?” I muttered to myself. With just a few minutes there was almost silence again. I suddenly heard the roar of the man with fire in his eyes as he hurled flames in all directions. There were a few other champions still alive but surely about to die from intense burns. The tentacled....... dog..... thing, well it didn’t seem phased at all as it leaped to the chest of the fiery man. Things were getting reckless and I was afraid of getting hit with a loose fireball. I’d like to at least not die at the starting line. I crawled my way under a pile of bodies and beings near the center of the arena. I figured this would be the last place anyone would look. As I peered out from the limbs I could see the fight taking place again. The tentacle dog had a good grip on the fiery man’s throat now, he was finally losing blood. Then a nasty rip sound cut through the air, the fiery man had used what must’ve been pure adrenaline and rage to rip the tentacle dog in half. His eyes blared with flames as he walked my way with slow stomps of bloodlust. It was as if he was staring right at me. I twisted and fumbled around for my musket readying the weapon to fire when- THUMP. I flinched with my eyes closed sure that he had found me in the pile. Another THUMP and a tentacles came down from the top of the pile hanging into my face. I wanted to scream but the air had left my lungs. The stomps slowly distances theirselves in sound. I looked through the limbs again to catch a glimpse of death before it took me and I saw the fiery man with a fist in the air looking at the crowds in the stands. They stood patiently quiet, almost horrified, yet no cheer. This obviously drove the fiery man wild as he started to scream and roar at them like in animal pumping his blood soaked fist in the air for validation. This is it, he hasn’t won yet, this is obviously a battle to the death and one contender remains, me. I caught my breath and steadied my barrel. The hot sand was blowing into my eyes so I adjusted the limbs for coverage in my hiding hole of gore. I waited to get a glimpse in the small sandstorm of his rage. I need something to aim for, yet he moved about yelling at his audience in fury. Then his gaze shot over me at the judging beings in the stands behind me and that’s when I saw it, my shot. His eyes flaming a yellowish orange like ripening apples, I caught my breath and let loose my best aimed shot ever. BANG I looked for my target and it was gone, his head, gone. Silence lasted as the fiery man’s body fell to its knees until finally going limp to the ground. Cheer bursted from every angle and shook the ground I laid on. I arose from the pile of death and raised my musket with pride now. Clapping soon followed the cheer as I assume they were impressed just as I was at me being alive. Then I was suddenly standing before the old man by the apple tree looking like a gloating fool, but I didn’t care, I felt more alive then ever. “Well done champion!” His voice rang with pride and I was not as annoyed to hear him this time. “Did I do it? Am I a god now!?” I blurted barely containing myself. “Of course! Why do you think they were cheering?” He asked in that smug way old men speak. “I just, I just didn’t think I’d make it. I mean all I had is this musket. How did, how did you know?” I asked in a prying manner. “I didn’t, that’s all I could conjure. I’m pretty preoccupied with a the times and I knew you had fired a musket before. Plus you’re a decent man compared to the bandits and warriors who were on that battlefield.” He ended his sentence with a warming smile. I didn’t know what to say, “Thanks?” He patted me on the back,” No boy, thank you. You e made me proud and assured no monster would take place in our pantheon. Plus, I get to show them all that old man time is nothing to be laughed at.” I was surprised at his reply and still slightly confused. I pressed further, “Wait, you have the power of time and you gave me a musket and one bullet? Wha- how- are you crazy or just plain mean?” He smirked, “Dear boy, don’t you know Tempus stands for time? You have the powers of time yourself, I just need you to use it right. I couldn’t give you a bunch of bullets to go willy nilly shooting in everything that moved. I needed you to be sure, so that you’d use your power of time.” Still confused I asked, “What power of time do I have?” He smiled at me, reminded me of grandfather in this light, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Timing boy, good timing”	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"What the hell does this peice of crap do?" "I don't actually know... But I summoned it with all the power I have!", beamed the rabbit sized god. "I'm going into mortal combat against these super-people and you give this... This... Do you hate me that much?" "Actually, I like you a lot. You're very lucky!" I smack my head against this musket thing in frustration, and suddenly a gauge popped up. It looks like some sort of roulette wheel, although I could not read the glyphs on it. Out of instinct you pointed the musket at the rabbit god and pulled the trigger, the gauge spun and stopped at a glyph with a circle and a square, suddenly the square shifted into the circle and at the same time the rabbit god faded out of existence. "What the fuck? Where did you go?" No answer. Great the god ditched him, I don't even know the way to the arena. I wandered around, trying to find some sort of directions. The realm of the gods seem to resemble the town where he was... Wait I recognize this place, it's my hometown! Maybe the gods put me here so I know where to go, sure nice of them to do that! Ok now, where could the arena be? I furrowed my brows to remember the town's layout. Ah! I could try the ice hockey arena. As I made my way over, I noticed people staring at me and lowering their eyes. Must be pitying my bad luck to be chosen to do this. Arriving at the arena, I found it full of activity; there were people practicing martial arts, some appear to be performing some sort of magic spell, and right at the entrance was a man in centurion gear looking fully the part of an entrance guard. I approached the guard and asked where contestants should go to register. He replied, "What are you talking about, god of luck? Why are you disguised as a human?" (Typed this on the bus, also my first WP! Hope it wasn't too terrible, my HS English teacher gave me Es for my essays :()	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	In my hands is a rusty musket, and surrounding me are incredible battles. Everyone’s fighting for the throne, flying around the room or slashing at each other with laser swords. Their gods gifted them incredible powers, while mine gifted me…this. Someone runs by me, chuckling. Nobody thinks I’m a threat. When we were given these yesterday, everyone laughed at me. I’m just a scrawny band kid to them. I wonder why this god even picked me, of all people. There are superstar athletes and big time actors here. So why me? I’m a wasted vote. Only thing I can do is play trumpet. You only are if you choose to be. “What does that mean?” Be yourself. Before I can reply, a fist slams into the ground, sending me flying back. When I climb to my feet, there’s a girl standing in front of me wearing comically large boxing gloves, rearing one back. “Bye bye, sucka!” I dodge and take off running. She chases me. I clutch the musket, holding it tight to my stomach. How could I possibly use this? Be yourself. Show them your passion. I duck away from another punch, and another. Turning a corner, I reach a dead end, walls on either side of me. She’s getting closer and closer, shadow consuming me. Be myself, be myself. But what does that mean? My eyes scan the musket. Only now, stuck in danger, do I see it. The odd shape is purposeful, because it’s not a musket at all. No, not even close. It’s my passion, the only thing I’m truly good at. It’s a trumpet. “Time to die!” Pressing it to my lips, I whirl around, facing the girl. As I blow air into it, the thing transforms into a beautiful, golden trumpet, and the notes literally dance out of it, happy and colorful. They circle around her, and she immediately stops, captured by the music. A second later, she’s sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth. The hardest battles are won not by strength, but by skill. You’ve spent years mastering this, spent years training your mind to make others happy—while the others were simply given their talents. The walls fade, and when I look around, everyone’s sitting down, rocking back and forth. They love my music, which makes me smile. I actually…I actually did it! In front of me, the sky opens, and a staircase lowers out of it. There’s a throne sitting at the top. Does this mean…did I…am I… You will make a great god. And with that, I ascend the stairs. *** I hope this turned out okay! Thanks for the prompt. If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I'm going to die. Wait no, sorry. I'm going to die, horribly. Raucous cheering filled the darkness as the wall in front of me shifted with a loud crunch. The floor beneath trembled as the gap widened, light filtering onto my feet. My heart raced. I couldn't breath. "This is not the time to have a panic attack!" I hissed, slapping myself in the face. The sting was comforting, but I was still terrified. I'd always wondered what people meant when they said their legs were like jelly, but now I knew exactly. It was as if someone had liquidised every structural component in my body from the waist down. I lent my shoulder on the wall for support, my fingers clenching the weapon in my hands. The light was up to my chest now. My knuckles were pulled tight, the white of bone translucent through my skin. "Twenty seconds until we release our brave fighters!" The crowd cheered wildly again. The lump in my throat became persistent. I swallowed until my mouth was arid. "Ten seconds!" The light shone onto my chin. My fingers burned where I'd been clutching the musket. Resigned, I hoisted the butt to my shoulder, cracking my neck. "Five!" My palms began to sweat. "Four!" I could see into the arena now, but an invisible force kept me from stepping forward. "Three!" It was your typical coliseum. A large pit of sand, surrounded by rows and rows of fat wealthy cats, cheering on whoever they'd put their money on. "Two!" Disgusted, I pulled up the barrel, cocking the gun. "One!" Adrenaline shot through me like lightning. I was scared. I felt sick. I was fuming. "Let the battle commence!" Lightning broke the sky as my enemies poured into the arena. They were all... huge. My stomach dropped. Somewhere across the arena, a man who looked half-human, half-titan, summoned a colossal ball of fire, sending it careening towards another. I heard his screams as he burnt alive. Distracted, I felt something heavy swing by my ear. I jumped backwards from it, aiming my gun at my assailant. Pain tore through my head and I gasped, biting down on my tongue to keep my concentration."Another addition to my collection." The barbarian had a wicked smile as she bent down to retrieve- wait, was that... I almost threw up on the spot. Smugness exuded from her as she hooked my ear onto the chain around her neck, surrounded by a couple of dozen others. "You know, you should have really been paying more attention if you wanted any hope of winning." Her laugh was abrasive. I gritted my teeth, taking aim. Finger on the trigger, I twitched. &#x200B; pew &#x200B; My mouth dropped open in exasperation. Instead of a bullet, a tiny white flag popped out the barrel of the musket. The barbarian raised an eyebrow, focus flicking between me and the fabric, flapping in the wind. She snorted. Then roared. Within a matter of seconds it became a full belly laugh, the warrior collapsed onto the floor. I couldn't move. Out of shock, pain or confusion, I wasn't sure, but my body wasn't obeying me. I could merely watch as she cackled away to herself. "I... I can't-" She spluttered between giggles, face turning blue. But it didn't sound right. The barbarians hands scrabbled at her neck, her attempts at sucking in air dashed by the constant laughter. "Help." She went limp, her last guffaw rattling. Blood oozed from a large gash in her side, staining the animal fur she'd worn around her waist. I blinked, shaking my head. And again. The flag had retracted back into the gun. I wondered if I'd just imagined this whole scenario as she'd meticulously dismembered my body. Commotion dragged my attention back to the rest of the arena. "Amazing! Zelkah's conjuring another spirit beast; place your bets on what this one will be guys! My money's on a Void Goat!" The announcer boomed over the speakers. The giant human from earlier was now surrounded by an entourage of disembodied creatures, varying from weasels to rhinos. The lump in my throat came back. I tried to swallow but my mouth was still barren. The barrel of the musket glinted in the light of the four suns as I aimed it at him. &#x200B; \* \* \* "Literally splitting people's sides with laughter? Really?" My god grinned at me, displayed rows of perfect teeth. "You had no faith in me kiddo." He jabbed a finger into my chest, eyes soft like honey. "But I had faith in you. Shame about the ear." A plain silver pendant, materialised in front me me, bobbing softly in midair. "Congratulations." My fingers wound around the item, beaming at the deity. "Thanks, Loki."	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"You'll do fine," Orixia assured him. "But all you gave me is this stupid antique!" "That 'stupid antique,'" his sponsor retorted, "is a genuine Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. In its time, it was prized for its range, its accuracy, and its reliability." "Great! But all the other competitors are going to have every superpower in the book! This is horseshit compared to what I'll be facing in the arena!" Orixia smiled. "Just practice with it for the next week. And trust me." &sect; Each god was entitled to bestow powers on their candidate in accordance with their own power, which gave the most powerful gods a decided advantage and also tended to maintain the status quo among the pantheon. In the interest of fairness, however, each candidate also had to be given a mortal weakness, and the rules for selecting that weakness were strict and inviolable. The gods, being gods, all wanted their candidates' weaknesses to be as small as possible, so in the days before candidate selection they each went to the Celestial Historian, a noted expert in all things related to war and combat, and charged him with researching the most insignificant weakness they could bestow which would still qualify. Finally, the tournament began, and each competitor in turn was announced, along with their attributes. "The god Aros the Ultimate presents David Peterson, whose powers are near-infinite strength and superhuman speed! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket." There was heard much laughter and a few boos from the massed audience. In limiting his candidate's Achilles' heel to an attack with such an ancient, obscure weapon, Aros the Ultimate had virtually assured his victory. The tournament might as well end now. "The goddess Belingia the Great presents Angela Moquat, whose powers are ultimate mastery of edged weapons and birdlike flight! Her mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket." A gasp rose from the audience, followed by a growing murmur. What was going on here? "The god Caranis the Merciless presents M'tanga I'pongo, whose powers are transformation into fierce animals and the ability to cast fire! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket." So it continued through scores of candidates, until the last, weakest entry was introduced... "The god Orixia the Celestial Historian presents Jeff Myrtlebank, whose powers are outstanding marksmanship and the mastery of his Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. His mortal weakness is being brought to orgasm orally by Aros the Ultimate." Jeff and Orixia stood silently as all the other gods gathered at the other end of the arena and engaged in animated conversation. Finally Aros the Ultimate's booming voice rang out for all to hear: "NO! I am not going to 'take one for the team!'" Each candidate forfeited in turn, until only one remained. Jeff Myrtlebank was accepted to the pantheon, and every power granted to every candidate was given to him, along with all their vulnerabilities--which, ironically, were all the same. &sect; In the end, he alone among the gods had only two weaknesses. One became no weakness at all when he used his powers to secretly replace all Springfield Model 1861's in the universe with identical replicas, which of course held no threat to him. As for the other, Jeff eventually defeated Aros and took the throne, and even when facing annihilation, Aros remained true to his word. --- Edit: Thanks to /u/IReddYourWords for [the audiobook version!](https://youtu.be/YqrDIhoneGI)	The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes. I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors. The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me. Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world. I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry. I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	Within the warm brown hand of Itri, the weapon was the most damnedest thing he saw. His patron had slipped it into his hand when it was his turned to be acknowledged at the trial of the twenty-two. Out of all the weapons Itri had seen, the fool's felt so inadequate against them. He had seen curved swords with serrated edges and runes of flame that burned down the center of the black metal. He had seen long chain whips with prongs that could punch through armor and which lightning would ride down the length so that if the puncture did not kill a man, the electricity would finish them off. He tilted the pistol, he admitted, even though it was not the most opportune moment to appraise the artifact granted to him by a god, the pistol looked great. The frame of the gun was carved out of smooth ivory that secured a dark gray barrel to the pistol. Near the end of the metal tube, where the breach and the touch hole were located, gold leaf decorated the metal in a flowery pattern. The end of the barrel was not shaped like a normal pistol, it had no rounded end. Instead, the barrel had been shaped to the face of a man with a wide-open maw in which hell could erupt from. By Itri's reckoning whatever destruction it could wreak paled as a streak of blue lit up his face. He could hear the cry of a man struck by the Empress' Handmaiden, the woman with the whip. He blinked and looked up across the field of battle to see she had slain the Emperor's man, the one with the mace. Itri recalled that if that mace had even touched a subject, their bones would turn to dust. He had to congratulate the smart move on the Handmaiden, she dealt with the threat quick. The other bodies had littered the arena. Quite the spectacle, Itri had to agree from where he stood in the corner. All twenty-two were to be joined in a battle, but he noticed most had gone after each other. Eager to bring down the greater threats before turning on the Fool's man with his little pistol. Itri had to thank the Handmaiden and the way she brought the whip down. She had actually killed the Tower's spearman as he sized up Itri for the kill. What did the Tower's spear even do? Itri thought. He imagined it did something better than his pistol. He jerked his head up as he heard the soft whistle overhead. The prongs of the Handmaid's whip lashed out towards him. If he had not jumped behind the column it may have been all over. The prongs buried themselves deep into the dark green marble. He could hear the clink of chains as she tried to extract the barbed end. "Uhm... would... would you take my surrender?" Itri asked. "I would. Just kneel before me and I'll make it quick." The Handmaid said after she grunted and pulled at the chain. "I would have preferred that I survive my surrender," He stepped around. Her hair was a mound of curled brunette against the soft fawn-skin. With a sudden jerk, she had pulled the whip's prongs from the column. The chain sailed and fell behind her as she turned to face him. Itri had the pistol drawn, the barrel-shaped as the Fool's head pointed at her. "You think that bullet could travel quick enough before my tip found you?" She asked, her eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess for my sake I better hope so." He squeezed the trigger before she could carry her threat. There was a jerk of the ivory pistol followed by a puff of gray smoke. As the fog cleared he saw a flag had sprung from the pistol. The cloth was was red with words in white: BANG! "Heh... the Fool's gift mocks you," The Handmaid laughed once... then twice. Then she burst into laughter, her long hair whipped behind her as she continued to laugh. At first, the laugh had sound forced, urged on by her contempt for Itri the Fool's Champion. But as she continued he found her laugh had turned genuine and then maddening, a constant guffaw that reverberated and echoed off the walls until it was not only her laugh but the laugh of hundreds. It was a laughter of contempt, but Itri found it was no longer laughter at him, but laughter at the entire bloody spectacle that had filled the arena. When it all ended, it ended in a few errant giggles as she lowered her head and he saw blood run down her nose and in her eyes. "Heh..." was the Empress' Handmaiden's last word before she pitched forward and landed hard on the stone ground. Itri stood alone. He looked above to see the assemblage of the Gods who had begun to clap for him.	\|\|\\UPDATED\\\|\| &#x200B; "It takes a long time to load, Maron. It's old, older than the Twelve." "If it's older than the Twelve, why is it a musket?" "M-musket," the God of Ire spat. "How dare!" "Calm, steady, Ire, calm. The boy doesn't know." "He's not the right choice Murr, he isn't and you know it!" "He is the right choice! He was the one who was chosen." "You swear by it," the red faced calamity clapped. Murr stood for the first time, he towered above all, even those within the Twelve. It was said that he was of the first gods, that he was older than the blue planet, older even than the sun, that he came when the first Bang! broke across the universe. No other immortal looked like him. "Never. Question." The God of Ire grumpily turned away, "All Hail," he muttered. "Now, take hold, I said. Take hold," Murr said before shoving the musket-like thing into my hands. "This is the Horn of Ishka. In your history the Japanese have said from its tip dripped the land of the rising sun. Christians have called it the Spear of Destiny. Ancient Egyptians said it is the staff of Anubis. They're all wrong, seeing what they want to see. It is like seeing a cellphone and calling it a book of light." "A cell what?" "Nothing. In time you will understand. Now listen carefully soldier, it takes some time to load." "Like a musket." "It's not a musket," the God of Ire shouted in rage. Guards approached them in front of the coliseum, "I'm going to have everyone but the Champions, step back." "I'm a God" roared Ire furiously again. "Sure bud, who prays to you? Calling himself a God, can you believe this guy Pete?" Pete chuckled and just shook his head. "Now listen pal, back it up with the flames. They aren't scaring anybody," the guard proclaimed as he moved the two gods back. "Listen to me Maron! Listen! Just trust in it," he shouted after me. "Trust!" &#x200B; \|\|UPDATE\|\| &#x200B; The metal gates shut loudly behind me. I found myself in a group of other champions. A large beast creature stood next to me in half armor. He turned to me, revealing his pig snout and snorted, "What's that you got there? A musket?" I didn't know how to reply, so I just clutched my weapon in my hand. "To the back with you then," he grunted. The pig beast turned to face our band of scraggly fighters, with his shoulders towering us he said, "I am Jaime de la Ring. During my time on Earth I was a pig, not a boar, not a bull, just a pig. But I fought nearly a hundred of battles against larger enemies. My stage was much like this one, where I jousted with Matadors. Slaying them in their turf, in their land, in front of their families. Always the underpig. Today I once again, have the unlucky draw of life to banded with you lot for the first round. Those that survive this round will then qualify to fight individually for the Gods. I am not going to lie to you, many of you will die. But when I win this tournament, and be granted as the immortal swine, I will ask the Twelve to grant you all a chance of life, for you have all had the grace to share in this moment with me, this moment of my..guh...guh...gurrh!" "You talk to much," said a slithering voice behind the falling pig. Jaime de la Ring broke to his knees and fell face first in the sand, dead. A reptilian figure withdrew its fanged steel from between the pig warrior's shoulder blades. It had curved in such a way that it pierced the poor beast's heart. The gates began to roll up in front of me, the blinding light pooled into our small crevice as I heard a scream from behind, as the voices around me grew to a roar; we rushed out onto the sand. Already arrows darkened the sky as a man with a horse's head and sparrow's wings pulled back a majestic bow. Globs of fire lobbed by an ogre melted the sand into glass as shards were sent into enemies by a large black feline's hind legs. I saw the slithering snake I had been with, shouting at him to wait, but he had jumped head first into the sand and disappeared, only to reappear nearby - tripping a tanned Amazonian by wrapping his body around her. Something exploded nearby and I became half buried in sand, the explosion still ringing in my ears, the dust still heavy on my face. I laid flat. So much for everything they said, so much for all of the hope they gave me. How did this happen? Why was I here? Only a few hours ago I was standing in Purgatory. When these two figures began scouting down the line. "No, not this one." "What about this one? Looks nice and strong." The two peered into a bag and seemed to whisper something. "No, not that one," said the taller god as his head emerged from the bag. "Him?" "No, not him." "Well which is it!" the God of Ire said angrily. "It says we are close." "Are you sure it's not broken?" "Of course it isn't broken," the taller god said. "This thing is older than time itself, you don't just go living on older than time if you could easily be broken." "Well, maybe its got some kind of master plan that we're unaware of. Maybe it's not even trying to help us look for our champion. Maybe it's looking to help the real champion. Now listen here, if that's the case. I want no part of it, do you hear me Graylo? I am a winner. I win. I won't be some-" "Hush, Ire, hush. It can hear you. It can judge." "All hail," Ire mumbled grumpily. "Him," the one named Graylo pointed at me. "It's him." "Him?" "Me?" That's when Graylo hurriedly pushed the musket-like thing into my hands. "Why did you do that!" Ire shouted unhappily. "You know the thing binds, now we can never remove it unless he dies." "Because it's him." Graylo motions for a small green turtle sitting on a cloud, "Get the papers. We want him to represent us." The little horned thing took one long look at me and seemed to mutter under his breath, but then nodded to the two gods and left. Graylo took one long handed finger and pulled me from the line. "Wait, but my place. I was about to be sorted, weighed, balanced." "Hush, boy, hush. It's overrated, believe me. I've seen it millions of times. Nobody is ever really happy about where they're going. The one's that are, are already there. You're better off coming with us. We will make you into a God." So there I was, out of one war just to be thrown into battle in the next. Granted, waiting in purgatory was a killer waste of time, but this, tournament? Death? How can a dead man die twice? Could possibly grant me godly status? I mean, what does that involve? Women? Drink? Gold? It would be something to be worshiped, eh? Mother always said I would amount fairly but never greatness. Well, to hell with her. I gripped the musket in my hands and forced my feet to stand. The flying horse-man had been pulled from the sky, one its wings were ripped off its back. It gripped the bow loosely in the hand, limping away on bloodied ankles. The creature was the closest to me so I rushed the nearly defenseless thing and struck him with my musket. The useless thing might have as well bounced off a wall. The horse-man turned to look at me angrily. I gripped and nearly stumbled backwards. The horse-man looked larger than he was before, his eyes turned red as the demon of an apocalypse, steam rose from his nostrils as he pulled up the bow and drew back its string. That's when his neck cracked, bent was more like it. I could see the fear in his eyes as the air in his throat lodged itself in his bent neck. A lump the size of a small baby burst threatened to burst from his skin. The horse-man cried out, "Auuurgh," reaching a heavy hand to grip me. So I struck him again. This time on his outstretched arm. For a second nothing happened, but then his arm fell from the weight that grew underneath his skin, crashing to the sand as it was engorged to the size of a cow. Emboldened by the staff, I struck him again and again, creating a gigantic, bubbling, pus filled mass where the horse-man once stood. I struck many other champions with my staff throughout the day. Even the ground to escape to a higher platform from my enemies. I figured the staff could even break things down. It could construct and deconstruct at the simple form of a touch. It could create what was indestructible. At the end of the first round I was greeted by Graylo and the God of Ire. "My boy! You've done," Graylo exclaimed. "I knew you would," he said proudly holding up the black bag that he had been religiously carrying. "It's never wrong." "What's in there Graylo," I asked him. The giant god seemed to hunch over and somehow made himself appear smaller. His hunched figure created a near shelter for the three of us, as he ushered me closer, blotting out most of the sun. "Are you insane, Graylo? Out here in the open?" "Don't fret, Ire, don't fret. I am shielding us from view." "What is it Graylo? What?" "It's one of the oldest objects I have ever come across." Ire sneered, "Now that's saying something." Graylo ignored him. "It has many rules. But the one simplest, truest rule, is never ask it anything you don't want the absolute answer to, for whatever it says, it will tell come to pass, no matter what." "No matter what?" "No matter what." "Can I see it?" Graylo looked dismayed, "Well, I don't-" "Oh come on, it's the least you could do," I reached for the bag and pulled open the string. The velvet black cloth fell apart and revealed a hard porcelain-like object. "The magic conch," the two of them breathed.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	Cameron stared at the musket dangling on a string of gold. It was almost entirely wood, save for a few strips of shiny silver. Two cartoony, golden, almost plastic angel wings were attached near the barrel, like something from a children's toy. She - her name, confusingly - pranced over to the gun, her hazy silhouette bobbing up and down. She, her face manifested as a minimalistic outline, gave Cameron a smile. "Thoughts?" "It, um, what is it?" "Your weapon!" She declared, smile forced wider. "A musket?" Cameron glanced between She and her weapon. "Brandon was bragging about superspeed. Airi can make force fields-" "Well we're on a budget." She grabbed the musket and thrust it into Cameron's arms. "How am I supposed to-" "Hold on, almost forgot the string," She said, snapping her fingers. The golden string unwound from the wooden beam above. A moment later, it whirled around the musket's wings, outlining the feathers. "Looks much better now, eh?" Cameron bit his lower lip. "Yep, way better." "Fantastic, I'm so glad you like it," She said. "Do you know how to shoot a musket?" "I'm a carpenter." "Yeah, yeah, but you could've had, like, a sharpshooting hobby, right?" "No." "Excellent." She paused. "Okay, Cameron, I'm gonna need you to trust me." "Sure." As if he had a choice. "Okay, so, I don't have a gun you can practice with." "Right," Cameron said. "And you can't practice with the musket." "Can't practice with-" Cameron fiddled with his words. "I don't know how to shoot a gun. Aren't-" He paused. "Aren't muskets even more difficult to use than normal?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, definitely. But, um, well you should be fine," She said. "That string is lucky, understand? It'll help you out. Definitely. I spent all my Divinity on it, so it ought to be high quality." Cameron gripped the musket. "Don't worry, it's not like you'll die," She said, waving her hand. "Just pull the trigger once and BAM, you'll win in a jiffy." \# Brandon ran circles around the arena, only visible through brief flashes of light. Much to his sponsor's annoyance, he had decided taunting his enemies was more productive than ending the fight in a moment. "Come on, shoot me! Try it!" Brandon said, laughing. His silhouette flashed around as Cameron tried to take aim. "Just fire!" She called from the side. "Oh, forget it," Cameron muttered. He pulled the trigger, aiming where he last saw Brandon's flash. There was no thunder, bang, or fizz. The wings merely fluttered for a moment before falling off. Brandon stopped to laugh. Cameron glanced at his opponent's sponsor, Orthun. He looked dead serious. "YES!" She cried. Cameron looked to her, finding that she was jumping and waving her arms around, or at least as well as a humanoid haze could. "YES, YES, YES!!" There was a fizz and a pop. A cool breeze brushed against Cameron's right cheek. The wings floated up, then dissolved into black dust. The lights around the arena dimmed. Dirt and dust slowly swirled around Cameron in organized streams, weaving into a cloth-like substance. Frail hands grasped Cameron's shoulders. They were warm, almost comforting. However, Cameron found himself frozen, staring at the wretched, curved blade stuck in the ground in front of him. Its blade was polished, almost reflective as a mirror. Brandon stepped back, afraid. Orthun sighed and shook his head. "HIGH QUALITY!" She shouted, almost taunting, toward Orthun. "Mm, a succession contest?" a terribly bored voice sounded out. "I was called out for this? Oh, how annoying." A frail hand left Cameron's shoulders and snapped its fingers. Brandon turned pale and collapsed. The world blurred for a moment, And Cameron felt dizzy as the Being behind him returned to dirt. Orthun strolled over, slowly clapping. A woman blinked into existence next to Cameron, petite and terribly pale. Her face was freckled and round, and her dress rippled off her into streams of ethereal mist. "See, see, I told you to trust me!" the woman said. Cameron raised an eyebrow. "She?" "No, no," the woman said, waving her hand. "I'm Sheriliaa!" She threw her arm around his shoulders. "I've got a name now because of you! And a body! Oooh, it was worth saving up all those centuries. My candidate finally won!" "Oh, um, oh..." Cameron fell to his knees, head spinning. "I'll be your advisor! Aren't you excited? I can't wait!" "Oh good..." Cameron murmured, fading into unconsciousness. \# Wrote right before bed, sorry for lack of detail.	\|\|\\UPDATED\\\|\| &#x200B; "It takes a long time to load, Maron. It's old, older than the Twelve." "If it's older than the Twelve, why is it a musket?" "M-musket," the God of Ire spat. "How dare!" "Calm, steady, Ire, calm. The boy doesn't know." "He's not the right choice Murr, he isn't and you know it!" "He is the right choice! He was the one who was chosen." "You swear by it," the red faced calamity clapped. Murr stood for the first time, he towered above all, even those within the Twelve. It was said that he was of the first gods, that he was older than the blue planet, older even than the sun, that he came when the first Bang! broke across the universe. No other immortal looked like him. "Never. Question." The God of Ire grumpily turned away, "All Hail," he muttered. "Now, take hold, I said. Take hold," Murr said before shoving the musket-like thing into my hands. "This is the Horn of Ishka. In your history the Japanese have said from its tip dripped the land of the rising sun. Christians have called it the Spear of Destiny. Ancient Egyptians said it is the staff of Anubis. They're all wrong, seeing what they want to see. It is like seeing a cellphone and calling it a book of light." "A cell what?" "Nothing. In time you will understand. Now listen carefully soldier, it takes some time to load." "Like a musket." "It's not a musket," the God of Ire shouted in rage. Guards approached them in front of the coliseum, "I'm going to have everyone but the Champions, step back." "I'm a God" roared Ire furiously again. "Sure bud, who prays to you? Calling himself a God, can you believe this guy Pete?" Pete chuckled and just shook his head. "Now listen pal, back it up with the flames. They aren't scaring anybody," the guard proclaimed as he moved the two gods back. "Listen to me Maron! Listen! Just trust in it," he shouted after me. "Trust!" &#x200B; \|\|UPDATE\|\| &#x200B; The metal gates shut loudly behind me. I found myself in a group of other champions. A large beast creature stood next to me in half armor. He turned to me, revealing his pig snout and snorted, "What's that you got there? A musket?" I didn't know how to reply, so I just clutched my weapon in my hand. "To the back with you then," he grunted. The pig beast turned to face our band of scraggly fighters, with his shoulders towering us he said, "I am Jaime de la Ring. During my time on Earth I was a pig, not a boar, not a bull, just a pig. But I fought nearly a hundred of battles against larger enemies. My stage was much like this one, where I jousted with Matadors. Slaying them in their turf, in their land, in front of their families. Always the underpig. Today I once again, have the unlucky draw of life to banded with you lot for the first round. Those that survive this round will then qualify to fight individually for the Gods. I am not going to lie to you, many of you will die. But when I win this tournament, and be granted as the immortal swine, I will ask the Twelve to grant you all a chance of life, for you have all had the grace to share in this moment with me, this moment of my..guh...guh...gurrh!" "You talk to much," said a slithering voice behind the falling pig. Jaime de la Ring broke to his knees and fell face first in the sand, dead. A reptilian figure withdrew its fanged steel from between the pig warrior's shoulder blades. It had curved in such a way that it pierced the poor beast's heart. The gates began to roll up in front of me, the blinding light pooled into our small crevice as I heard a scream from behind, as the voices around me grew to a roar; we rushed out onto the sand. Already arrows darkened the sky as a man with a horse's head and sparrow's wings pulled back a majestic bow. Globs of fire lobbed by an ogre melted the sand into glass as shards were sent into enemies by a large black feline's hind legs. I saw the slithering snake I had been with, shouting at him to wait, but he had jumped head first into the sand and disappeared, only to reappear nearby - tripping a tanned Amazonian by wrapping his body around her. Something exploded nearby and I became half buried in sand, the explosion still ringing in my ears, the dust still heavy on my face. I laid flat. So much for everything they said, so much for all of the hope they gave me. How did this happen? Why was I here? Only a few hours ago I was standing in Purgatory. When these two figures began scouting down the line. "No, not this one." "What about this one? Looks nice and strong." The two peered into a bag and seemed to whisper something. "No, not that one," said the taller god as his head emerged from the bag. "Him?" "No, not him." "Well which is it!" the God of Ire said angrily. "It says we are close." "Are you sure it's not broken?" "Of course it isn't broken," the taller god said. "This thing is older than time itself, you don't just go living on older than time if you could easily be broken." "Well, maybe its got some kind of master plan that we're unaware of. Maybe it's not even trying to help us look for our champion. Maybe it's looking to help the real champion. Now listen here, if that's the case. I want no part of it, do you hear me Graylo? I am a winner. I win. I won't be some-" "Hush, Ire, hush. It can hear you. It can judge." "All hail," Ire mumbled grumpily. "Him," the one named Graylo pointed at me. "It's him." "Him?" "Me?" That's when Graylo hurriedly pushed the musket-like thing into my hands. "Why did you do that!" Ire shouted unhappily. "You know the thing binds, now we can never remove it unless he dies." "Because it's him." Graylo motions for a small green turtle sitting on a cloud, "Get the papers. We want him to represent us." The little horned thing took one long look at me and seemed to mutter under his breath, but then nodded to the two gods and left. Graylo took one long handed finger and pulled me from the line. "Wait, but my place. I was about to be sorted, weighed, balanced." "Hush, boy, hush. It's overrated, believe me. I've seen it millions of times. Nobody is ever really happy about where they're going. The one's that are, are already there. You're better off coming with us. We will make you into a God." So there I was, out of one war just to be thrown into battle in the next. Granted, waiting in purgatory was a killer waste of time, but this, tournament? Death? How can a dead man die twice? Could possibly grant me godly status? I mean, what does that involve? Women? Drink? Gold? It would be something to be worshiped, eh? Mother always said I would amount fairly but never greatness. Well, to hell with her. I gripped the musket in my hands and forced my feet to stand. The flying horse-man had been pulled from the sky, one its wings were ripped off its back. It gripped the bow loosely in the hand, limping away on bloodied ankles. The creature was the closest to me so I rushed the nearly defenseless thing and struck him with my musket. The useless thing might have as well bounced off a wall. The horse-man turned to look at me angrily. I gripped and nearly stumbled backwards. The horse-man looked larger than he was before, his eyes turned red as the demon of an apocalypse, steam rose from his nostrils as he pulled up the bow and drew back its string. That's when his neck cracked, bent was more like it. I could see the fear in his eyes as the air in his throat lodged itself in his bent neck. A lump the size of a small baby burst threatened to burst from his skin. The horse-man cried out, "Auuurgh," reaching a heavy hand to grip me. So I struck him again. This time on his outstretched arm. For a second nothing happened, but then his arm fell from the weight that grew underneath his skin, crashing to the sand as it was engorged to the size of a cow. Emboldened by the staff, I struck him again and again, creating a gigantic, bubbling, pus filled mass where the horse-man once stood. I struck many other champions with my staff throughout the day. Even the ground to escape to a higher platform from my enemies. I figured the staff could even break things down. It could construct and deconstruct at the simple form of a touch. It could create what was indestructible. At the end of the first round I was greeted by Graylo and the God of Ire. "My boy! You've done," Graylo exclaimed. "I knew you would," he said proudly holding up the black bag that he had been religiously carrying. "It's never wrong." "What's in there Graylo," I asked him. The giant god seemed to hunch over and somehow made himself appear smaller. His hunched figure created a near shelter for the three of us, as he ushered me closer, blotting out most of the sun. "Are you insane, Graylo? Out here in the open?" "Don't fret, Ire, don't fret. I am shielding us from view." "What is it Graylo? What?" "It's one of the oldest objects I have ever come across." Ire sneered, "Now that's saying something." Graylo ignored him. "It has many rules. But the one simplest, truest rule, is never ask it anything you don't want the absolute answer to, for whatever it says, it will tell come to pass, no matter what." "No matter what?" "No matter what." "Can I see it?" Graylo looked dismayed, "Well, I don't-" "Oh come on, it's the least you could do," I reached for the bag and pulled open the string. The velvet black cloth fell apart and revealed a hard porcelain-like object. "The magic conch," the two of them breathed.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I blink. What the fuck just happened? One minute I'm laying in bed, catching up on some youtube videos - and suddenly I'm not anymore... I'm on a couch? It didn't feel like I moved, like anything happened at all, I just suddenly am here now. Everything has a weird kind of feeling to it, it's hard to describe, almost like an aura you could almost see - it just feels off. But, this looks like a normal enough living room. The carpets are nice, this couch is comfortable... There's a man sitting in that recliner over there, is he watching TV? "Hello?" He looks over my way slowly, his slender pale face looked quizzical at first, then his eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah, that was today - right..." He let out an audible sigh and the television went dark in front of him. I just realized, I'm still just in a pair of boxers... not even the kind with a button, stupid open flap ones. He motions to the end of the couch I'm on as his chair turns toward me. "You'll probably need to learn how to shoot that" a gun that resembles a musket is seated next to me, it's got one of those cheap bows from walmart stuck to it - even has the price tag still on the base. 39 cents? How long has that bow been sitting around for? "Uhhh, can I ask why" I'm not so sure I want to know though. "Well, one of the gods has decided he was done and just up and left. Now we gotta have this big battle to see which mortal is suited to become the next god, yadda yadda" "Wait, hold on... no really, yadda yadda? I'm gonna fight against people and it's a 'yadda yadda?' "Well, they don't call me the god of Laziness for nothing" Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into? "God of Laziness?" "Present" "... Okay, first question - why me? "Oh, well a lot of the other gods spent time searching the earth for someone who was suited - someone who would rise to the occasion, painstakingly checking every single... Oh god that just sounded so BORING. I picked you out of a hat." "What?" ...WHAT!?! "I'm kidding! Actually it's a bit much to describe, but I developed a way to speak to the earth itself and listen to what she has to say. It's really handy for when you don't want to do anything but need to know about things on earth" "... are you joking again, orrrr" "Nope, took me 20 years to figure out a way, but it has saved me countless hours since" ...Isn't that kind of amazing in it's own way? I guess that's why he's the GOD of laziness He smiled a bit "She said you were the person I'd get along with best, which is great because the only guy I even liked up here just up and left his seat." "Who was that anyway?" "God of Sex, dude was a FREAK - but he just was too much to handle" Wait, does that mean... "So, I could be the next God of Sex?" He laughed... a lot... and just when he was winding it down, he looked back up at me and he just started laughing even harder. "So, what kind of god would I become?" I asked once he finally quieted down a bit. "I actually don't know," He shrugged slightly "You just kind of know when it happens" That... is not reassuring. "My weapon is a gun, I assume the fights are to the death?" "You assume correctly" "And, can I assume that you all being gods will either protect us or resurrect anyone who dies?" "You don't assume quite as correctly on that one" Ah fuck... "There is some worse news," he continued "I'm kind of bottom of the totem pole up here - so I can't really grant you any 'powers' like superhuman strength, or anything good really... I mean I kind of even had the weapon over there for you on 'auto pick' because I was choosing last and Artemis took for fucking EVER" "Auto pick?" "Yeah, I won't go into details, but basically I let the earth choose the weapon then used a 'stand in' to actually pick it. I came back to watch some more anime" ... I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die fucking horribly, this is awesome. "So, wait a minute - earth chose this for me?" I looked at the gun, it really looks like a musket... "She said something about some of the most lopsided wars in terms of casualties were fought when one side had this weapon" "That sounds like some REALLY flimsy logic" "Yeah, I probably should have been there. Could have at least taken the gist of the advice and gotten you a more modern gun - but hey what can you do? Half these dolts chose to have their 'champions' wield spears and shit, in this day and age. My money is on the Goddess of self-importance, she got a trained hitman - and apparently chose an AR-15 as his weapon. I mean, she may be in the same boat as me in terms of bestowing powers - but she really put some effort into this" I really wish I was back home. "Ah, but don't worry too much. I have a plan, I mean I REALLY do want someone up here who gets me - and Earth said you were a cool dude so I put some effort into this" "And that plan is?" "...Wouldn't you rather get dressed first?" --- After getting dressed and spending a little time in the 'killing fields' learning how to load and fire the musket, I came to the realization that this 'weapon' is definitely going to get me killed... He spent some time explaining the 'plan' - or half-explaining, difficult questions often answered with "Wing it!"... This only reassured me that I am totally screwed. We went back to his house and I found myself in thought, sitting at a table, much too long of one - this thing must be 40 feet long... and this room - the dining room, why is this room so much more elegant than the rest of his house? "I see you are admiring the tasteful decor, yeah I hate it." "... Then why don't you change it?" He just smiled and nodded as he reached for the hot pocket in front of him... I might not have even assumed whatever he was eating was a hot-pocket... but it's resting on the box, he's using the box as a plate... "OH!" he exclaimed, with a mouth full of hotpocket "I almost forgot, the name is John" "... I'm Mark - Mark Jacobs... I'm sure you knew that though... Do you gods have last names?" "Nope, I'm just John. Always has been that way" "I'm not gonna question it, I'm sure you chose that name with great care" "I uh, I don't even remember. It's been so long. At first they had me running this place, let me tell you that was a mess... I don't even want to get into it. But a couple years back I turned that over to some new guy who seemed promising, he left sometime after that though and it's changed hands once or twice. It's too bad, I really liked that guy, went by 'Zeus' I think..." ... I just heard something very troubling. "You used to run... Heaven? ... what do you call this place?" "Close enough, but like I said - I don't want to get into it." "But c'mon, you used to RUN the place, you have to have some special powers or something right? How did you go from-" "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" his eyes took a serious look Oops, hit a nerve... better back it off a bit "Okay, I'm sorry John. You're right, let's just focus on the task at hand" I looked down at the gun I had now resting against my chair, and then forward to the hot pocket John had made for me, it was resting on a paper towel folded over a couple times - the grease soaking through the first layer entirely. I didn't feel so good - eating was definitely out of the question "So, it's a Battle Royale style fight?" "Yeah, Artemis was so insistent on that - she apparently went and saw The Hunger Games in theaters - she's been obsessed since" Of course. "I play a bit of PUBG so the idea has grown on me" And of course. "I know we went over the plan before, like half-assedly glazed over it, but how long will I have to wait? When does the fight begin?" He slowly turned his head toward the clock on the wall. "Well as for how long you have to wait, I packed some provisions in the bag - should make it pass in no time. And for when the fight starts - we got 3 minutes yet" "... I really hope that's another joke" "Yeah, it was" he smiled "It's time now." And again, I'm just here. At least this time, I know where I am. The trees, that river, I'm 350 out from my target area. Time for a hike I guess. I was going to have to make my way along this river, but I stopped to check the bag to see what 'provisions' John had packed for me Backpack contents: Beef Jerky, one pack Water canteen, filled with mountain dew for some reason The 'secret weapon'... Tissues, one box Lotion, one bottle Porno Mags... like 20, seriously most of the weight of this damned bag was paper! I am not going to spend my time like that. Besides, this area is actually tiny, I can't imagine that the wait will be that long. I'd better get to the spot and get deployed. --- (cont.)	\|\|\\UPDATED\\\|\| &#x200B; "It takes a long time to load, Maron. It's old, older than the Twelve." "If it's older than the Twelve, why is it a musket?" "M-musket," the God of Ire spat. "How dare!" "Calm, steady, Ire, calm. The boy doesn't know." "He's not the right choice Murr, he isn't and you know it!" "He is the right choice! He was the one who was chosen." "You swear by it," the red faced calamity clapped. Murr stood for the first time, he towered above all, even those within the Twelve. It was said that he was of the first gods, that he was older than the blue planet, older even than the sun, that he came when the first Bang! broke across the universe. No other immortal looked like him. "Never. Question." The God of Ire grumpily turned away, "All Hail," he muttered. "Now, take hold, I said. Take hold," Murr said before shoving the musket-like thing into my hands. "This is the Horn of Ishka. In your history the Japanese have said from its tip dripped the land of the rising sun. Christians have called it the Spear of Destiny. Ancient Egyptians said it is the staff of Anubis. They're all wrong, seeing what they want to see. It is like seeing a cellphone and calling it a book of light." "A cell what?" "Nothing. In time you will understand. Now listen carefully soldier, it takes some time to load." "Like a musket." "It's not a musket," the God of Ire shouted in rage. Guards approached them in front of the coliseum, "I'm going to have everyone but the Champions, step back." "I'm a God" roared Ire furiously again. "Sure bud, who prays to you? Calling himself a God, can you believe this guy Pete?" Pete chuckled and just shook his head. "Now listen pal, back it up with the flames. They aren't scaring anybody," the guard proclaimed as he moved the two gods back. "Listen to me Maron! Listen! Just trust in it," he shouted after me. "Trust!" &#x200B; \|\|UPDATE\|\| &#x200B; The metal gates shut loudly behind me. I found myself in a group of other champions. A large beast creature stood next to me in half armor. He turned to me, revealing his pig snout and snorted, "What's that you got there? A musket?" I didn't know how to reply, so I just clutched my weapon in my hand. "To the back with you then," he grunted. The pig beast turned to face our band of scraggly fighters, with his shoulders towering us he said, "I am Jaime de la Ring. During my time on Earth I was a pig, not a boar, not a bull, just a pig. But I fought nearly a hundred of battles against larger enemies. My stage was much like this one, where I jousted with Matadors. Slaying them in their turf, in their land, in front of their families. Always the underpig. Today I once again, have the unlucky draw of life to banded with you lot for the first round. Those that survive this round will then qualify to fight individually for the Gods. I am not going to lie to you, many of you will die. But when I win this tournament, and be granted as the immortal swine, I will ask the Twelve to grant you all a chance of life, for you have all had the grace to share in this moment with me, this moment of my..guh...guh...gurrh!" "You talk to much," said a slithering voice behind the falling pig. Jaime de la Ring broke to his knees and fell face first in the sand, dead. A reptilian figure withdrew its fanged steel from between the pig warrior's shoulder blades. It had curved in such a way that it pierced the poor beast's heart. The gates began to roll up in front of me, the blinding light pooled into our small crevice as I heard a scream from behind, as the voices around me grew to a roar; we rushed out onto the sand. Already arrows darkened the sky as a man with a horse's head and sparrow's wings pulled back a majestic bow. Globs of fire lobbed by an ogre melted the sand into glass as shards were sent into enemies by a large black feline's hind legs. I saw the slithering snake I had been with, shouting at him to wait, but he had jumped head first into the sand and disappeared, only to reappear nearby - tripping a tanned Amazonian by wrapping his body around her. Something exploded nearby and I became half buried in sand, the explosion still ringing in my ears, the dust still heavy on my face. I laid flat. So much for everything they said, so much for all of the hope they gave me. How did this happen? Why was I here? Only a few hours ago I was standing in Purgatory. When these two figures began scouting down the line. "No, not this one." "What about this one? Looks nice and strong." The two peered into a bag and seemed to whisper something. "No, not that one," said the taller god as his head emerged from the bag. "Him?" "No, not him." "Well which is it!" the God of Ire said angrily. "It says we are close." "Are you sure it's not broken?" "Of course it isn't broken," the taller god said. "This thing is older than time itself, you don't just go living on older than time if you could easily be broken." "Well, maybe its got some kind of master plan that we're unaware of. Maybe it's not even trying to help us look for our champion. Maybe it's looking to help the real champion. Now listen here, if that's the case. I want no part of it, do you hear me Graylo? I am a winner. I win. I won't be some-" "Hush, Ire, hush. It can hear you. It can judge." "All hail," Ire mumbled grumpily. "Him," the one named Graylo pointed at me. "It's him." "Him?" "Me?" That's when Graylo hurriedly pushed the musket-like thing into my hands. "Why did you do that!" Ire shouted unhappily. "You know the thing binds, now we can never remove it unless he dies." "Because it's him." Graylo motions for a small green turtle sitting on a cloud, "Get the papers. We want him to represent us." The little horned thing took one long look at me and seemed to mutter under his breath, but then nodded to the two gods and left. Graylo took one long handed finger and pulled me from the line. "Wait, but my place. I was about to be sorted, weighed, balanced." "Hush, boy, hush. It's overrated, believe me. I've seen it millions of times. Nobody is ever really happy about where they're going. The one's that are, are already there. You're better off coming with us. We will make you into a God." So there I was, out of one war just to be thrown into battle in the next. Granted, waiting in purgatory was a killer waste of time, but this, tournament? Death? How can a dead man die twice? Could possibly grant me godly status? I mean, what does that involve? Women? Drink? Gold? It would be something to be worshiped, eh? Mother always said I would amount fairly but never greatness. Well, to hell with her. I gripped the musket in my hands and forced my feet to stand. The flying horse-man had been pulled from the sky, one its wings were ripped off its back. It gripped the bow loosely in the hand, limping away on bloodied ankles. The creature was the closest to me so I rushed the nearly defenseless thing and struck him with my musket. The useless thing might have as well bounced off a wall. The horse-man turned to look at me angrily. I gripped and nearly stumbled backwards. The horse-man looked larger than he was before, his eyes turned red as the demon of an apocalypse, steam rose from his nostrils as he pulled up the bow and drew back its string. That's when his neck cracked, bent was more like it. I could see the fear in his eyes as the air in his throat lodged itself in his bent neck. A lump the size of a small baby burst threatened to burst from his skin. The horse-man cried out, "Auuurgh," reaching a heavy hand to grip me. So I struck him again. This time on his outstretched arm. For a second nothing happened, but then his arm fell from the weight that grew underneath his skin, crashing to the sand as it was engorged to the size of a cow. Emboldened by the staff, I struck him again and again, creating a gigantic, bubbling, pus filled mass where the horse-man once stood. I struck many other champions with my staff throughout the day. Even the ground to escape to a higher platform from my enemies. I figured the staff could even break things down. It could construct and deconstruct at the simple form of a touch. It could create what was indestructible. At the end of the first round I was greeted by Graylo and the God of Ire. "My boy! You've done," Graylo exclaimed. "I knew you would," he said proudly holding up the black bag that he had been religiously carrying. "It's never wrong." "What's in there Graylo," I asked him. The giant god seemed to hunch over and somehow made himself appear smaller. His hunched figure created a near shelter for the three of us, as he ushered me closer, blotting out most of the sun. "Are you insane, Graylo? Out here in the open?" "Don't fret, Ire, don't fret. I am shielding us from view." "What is it Graylo? What?" "It's one of the oldest objects I have ever come across." Ire sneered, "Now that's saying something." Graylo ignored him. "It has many rules. But the one simplest, truest rule, is never ask it anything you don't want the absolute answer to, for whatever it says, it will tell come to pass, no matter what." "No matter what?" "No matter what." "Can I see it?" Graylo looked dismayed, "Well, I don't-" "Oh come on, it's the least you could do," I reached for the bag and pulled open the string. The velvet black cloth fell apart and revealed a hard porcelain-like object. "The magic conch," the two of them breathed.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	“........... A musket.” I muttered slightly annoyed “You’ve been given a great power.” Said this odd somewhat feeble old man of a god. He said it as if he was parting wisdom but I’m still filled with hollow hope and trembling with dread. I believed in maybe a god and pretended to know a few others out of respect or avoiding awkward confrontations, but this guy? With a name like Tempus you’d think I’d get something more powerful or at least cool looking. Now I just get to die with an antique given to me by, well...... an antique of a man. No magic, no added strength, not even speed to runaway, just a musket. I had fired a musket before, sure, but it was just to fend off wolves on my uncles farm a few times. Mother hated violence and was livid when she found out, so my few months of practice ended years ago with a harsh grounding. “And when is this tournament?” I asked with great grief . With an almost smug grin he immediately replied, “4 hours, 16 minutes, and 33 seconds.” As if it was common knowledge. “Can I at least practice?” He handed me a bag full of gunpowder and another with bullets. “Of course! Be wary though, as you only have 4 hours, 15 minutes, and 17 seconds left to do so.” My eyes almost rolled so far back into my head I thought I was about to read my own mind. “Practice hard, Champion. You may only get one shot.” He added as I swung the musket over my shoulder to go practice. It wasn’t hard to brush up my skills but I eventually had to take care with my shots, as I started to run out of ammunition. Blasting apples out of trees seemed harmless and a hard enough target. The old man appeared before me right after I spent the last blast on some low hanging fruit. “It’s time!” He shouted holding a finger in the air. “Watch it! I don’t want to get in trouble for shooting a god in the face! A second sooner and I might’ve made my shot! Plus, plus, my apple did I hit the-.” “Of course, Champion! See for yourself!” He gleefully waved his hand to show what was an obliterated apple barely hanging by it’s stem. I caught my breath, now slightly embarrassed I replied, “Oh, hey sorry abo-“ He interrupted me again. “ No time, no time, here is your ammunition and we’re off to the challenge!” Before I could even get another word in he snapped and I was all of a sudden behind a barred gate on the edge of a massive coliseum. Thunderous roars of people and otherworldly beings in the stands almost made it impossible to gather my thoughts and calm down. The heat of the sun cast intense shadows and kicked up hot sand. I tried my best to stare across the way. Sizing up just the few contenders I could see from where I stood I knew I was screwed. There was a man with a fiery rage in his eyes, or maybe it actually was fire, wearing nothing but his rage and a loincloth. Another cage had some monstrous four legged being with tentacles for a face. I couldn’t decide if it’d be more painful to be hit by it or be turned into whatever that thing was. To my shock, his neighbor appeared to be dead in the next gate over. What I assumed used to be a giant was now more of a contorted flesh made rag you’d use to mop up blood. I take it his god didn’t take these small spaces cells into account so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. With thunder and a lightning strike made of every shade of color I’ve seen before hitting center arena, the gates lifted. I panicked and hid in the shadow of my cell. I was so preoccupied with my situation I hadn’t even loaded the musket. I open my bags and- WHAT, one bullet!? This has to be a mistake, this has to be a mistake! Whatever, I loaded it and was pretty prepared to use it on myself but hey, let’s at least watch this fight first. Shrieks of pain, rain of blood splatters, metal clanging, roars of elements shooting across sides of the arena. I didn’t stand a chance, bodies were almost in huge piles now and I wasn’t eager to be added to the list. “How many gods are there?” I muttered to myself. With just a few minutes there was almost silence again. I suddenly heard the roar of the man with fire in his eyes as he hurled flames in all directions. There were a few other champions still alive but surely about to die from intense burns. The tentacled....... dog..... thing, well it didn’t seem phased at all as it leaped to the chest of the fiery man. Things were getting reckless and I was afraid of getting hit with a loose fireball. I’d like to at least not die at the starting line. I crawled my way under a pile of bodies and beings near the center of the arena. I figured this would be the last place anyone would look. As I peered out from the limbs I could see the fight taking place again. The tentacle dog had a good grip on the fiery man’s throat now, he was finally losing blood. Then a nasty rip sound cut through the air, the fiery man had used what must’ve been pure adrenaline and rage to rip the tentacle dog in half. His eyes blared with flames as he walked my way with slow stomps of bloodlust. It was as if he was staring right at me. I twisted and fumbled around for my musket readying the weapon to fire when- THUMP. I flinched with my eyes closed sure that he had found me in the pile. Another THUMP and a tentacles came down from the top of the pile hanging into my face. I wanted to scream but the air had left my lungs. The stomps slowly distances theirselves in sound. I looked through the limbs again to catch a glimpse of death before it took me and I saw the fiery man with a fist in the air looking at the crowds in the stands. They stood patiently quiet, almost horrified, yet no cheer. This obviously drove the fiery man wild as he started to scream and roar at them like in animal pumping his blood soaked fist in the air for validation. This is it, he hasn’t won yet, this is obviously a battle to the death and one contender remains, me. I caught my breath and steadied my barrel. The hot sand was blowing into my eyes so I adjusted the limbs for coverage in my hiding hole of gore. I waited to get a glimpse in the small sandstorm of his rage. I need something to aim for, yet he moved about yelling at his audience in fury. Then his gaze shot over me at the judging beings in the stands behind me and that’s when I saw it, my shot. His eyes flaming a yellowish orange like ripening apples, I caught my breath and let loose my best aimed shot ever. BANG I looked for my target and it was gone, his head, gone. Silence lasted as the fiery man’s body fell to its knees until finally going limp to the ground. Cheer bursted from every angle and shook the ground I laid on. I arose from the pile of death and raised my musket with pride now. Clapping soon followed the cheer as I assume they were impressed just as I was at me being alive. Then I was suddenly standing before the old man by the apple tree looking like a gloating fool, but I didn’t care, I felt more alive then ever. “Well done champion!” His voice rang with pride and I was not as annoyed to hear him this time. “Did I do it? Am I a god now!?” I blurted barely containing myself. “Of course! Why do you think they were cheering?” He asked in that smug way old men speak. “I just, I just didn’t think I’d make it. I mean all I had is this musket. How did, how did you know?” I asked in a prying manner. “I didn’t, that’s all I could conjure. I’m pretty preoccupied with a the times and I knew you had fired a musket before. Plus you’re a decent man compared to the bandits and warriors who were on that battlefield.” He ended his sentence with a warming smile. I didn’t know what to say, “Thanks?” He patted me on the back,” No boy, thank you. You e made me proud and assured no monster would take place in our pantheon. Plus, I get to show them all that old man time is nothing to be laughed at.” I was surprised at his reply and still slightly confused. I pressed further, “Wait, you have the power of time and you gave me a musket and one bullet? Wha- how- are you crazy or just plain mean?” He smirked, “Dear boy, don’t you know Tempus stands for time? You have the powers of time yourself, I just need you to use it right. I couldn’t give you a bunch of bullets to go willy nilly shooting in everything that moved. I needed you to be sure, so that you’d use your power of time.” Still confused I asked, “What power of time do I have?” He smiled at me, reminded me of grandfather in this light, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Timing boy, good timing”	\|\|\\UPDATED\\\|\| &#x200B; "It takes a long time to load, Maron. It's old, older than the Twelve." "If it's older than the Twelve, why is it a musket?" "M-musket," the God of Ire spat. "How dare!" "Calm, steady, Ire, calm. The boy doesn't know." "He's not the right choice Murr, he isn't and you know it!" "He is the right choice! He was the one who was chosen." "You swear by it," the red faced calamity clapped. Murr stood for the first time, he towered above all, even those within the Twelve. It was said that he was of the first gods, that he was older than the blue planet, older even than the sun, that he came when the first Bang! broke across the universe. No other immortal looked like him. "Never. Question." The God of Ire grumpily turned away, "All Hail," he muttered. "Now, take hold, I said. Take hold," Murr said before shoving the musket-like thing into my hands. "This is the Horn of Ishka. In your history the Japanese have said from its tip dripped the land of the rising sun. Christians have called it the Spear of Destiny. Ancient Egyptians said it is the staff of Anubis. They're all wrong, seeing what they want to see. It is like seeing a cellphone and calling it a book of light." "A cell what?" "Nothing. In time you will understand. Now listen carefully soldier, it takes some time to load." "Like a musket." "It's not a musket," the God of Ire shouted in rage. Guards approached them in front of the coliseum, "I'm going to have everyone but the Champions, step back." "I'm a God" roared Ire furiously again. "Sure bud, who prays to you? Calling himself a God, can you believe this guy Pete?" Pete chuckled and just shook his head. "Now listen pal, back it up with the flames. They aren't scaring anybody," the guard proclaimed as he moved the two gods back. "Listen to me Maron! Listen! Just trust in it," he shouted after me. "Trust!" &#x200B; \|\|UPDATE\|\| &#x200B; The metal gates shut loudly behind me. I found myself in a group of other champions. A large beast creature stood next to me in half armor. He turned to me, revealing his pig snout and snorted, "What's that you got there? A musket?" I didn't know how to reply, so I just clutched my weapon in my hand. "To the back with you then," he grunted. The pig beast turned to face our band of scraggly fighters, with his shoulders towering us he said, "I am Jaime de la Ring. During my time on Earth I was a pig, not a boar, not a bull, just a pig. But I fought nearly a hundred of battles against larger enemies. My stage was much like this one, where I jousted with Matadors. Slaying them in their turf, in their land, in front of their families. Always the underpig. Today I once again, have the unlucky draw of life to banded with you lot for the first round. Those that survive this round will then qualify to fight individually for the Gods. I am not going to lie to you, many of you will die. But when I win this tournament, and be granted as the immortal swine, I will ask the Twelve to grant you all a chance of life, for you have all had the grace to share in this moment with me, this moment of my..guh...guh...gurrh!" "You talk to much," said a slithering voice behind the falling pig. Jaime de la Ring broke to his knees and fell face first in the sand, dead. A reptilian figure withdrew its fanged steel from between the pig warrior's shoulder blades. It had curved in such a way that it pierced the poor beast's heart. The gates began to roll up in front of me, the blinding light pooled into our small crevice as I heard a scream from behind, as the voices around me grew to a roar; we rushed out onto the sand. Already arrows darkened the sky as a man with a horse's head and sparrow's wings pulled back a majestic bow. Globs of fire lobbed by an ogre melted the sand into glass as shards were sent into enemies by a large black feline's hind legs. I saw the slithering snake I had been with, shouting at him to wait, but he had jumped head first into the sand and disappeared, only to reappear nearby - tripping a tanned Amazonian by wrapping his body around her. Something exploded nearby and I became half buried in sand, the explosion still ringing in my ears, the dust still heavy on my face. I laid flat. So much for everything they said, so much for all of the hope they gave me. How did this happen? Why was I here? Only a few hours ago I was standing in Purgatory. When these two figures began scouting down the line. "No, not this one." "What about this one? Looks nice and strong." The two peered into a bag and seemed to whisper something. "No, not that one," said the taller god as his head emerged from the bag. "Him?" "No, not him." "Well which is it!" the God of Ire said angrily. "It says we are close." "Are you sure it's not broken?" "Of course it isn't broken," the taller god said. "This thing is older than time itself, you don't just go living on older than time if you could easily be broken." "Well, maybe its got some kind of master plan that we're unaware of. Maybe it's not even trying to help us look for our champion. Maybe it's looking to help the real champion. Now listen here, if that's the case. I want no part of it, do you hear me Graylo? I am a winner. I win. I won't be some-" "Hush, Ire, hush. It can hear you. It can judge." "All hail," Ire mumbled grumpily. "Him," the one named Graylo pointed at me. "It's him." "Him?" "Me?" That's when Graylo hurriedly pushed the musket-like thing into my hands. "Why did you do that!" Ire shouted unhappily. "You know the thing binds, now we can never remove it unless he dies." "Because it's him." Graylo motions for a small green turtle sitting on a cloud, "Get the papers. We want him to represent us." The little horned thing took one long look at me and seemed to mutter under his breath, but then nodded to the two gods and left. Graylo took one long handed finger and pulled me from the line. "Wait, but my place. I was about to be sorted, weighed, balanced." "Hush, boy, hush. It's overrated, believe me. I've seen it millions of times. Nobody is ever really happy about where they're going. The one's that are, are already there. You're better off coming with us. We will make you into a God." So there I was, out of one war just to be thrown into battle in the next. Granted, waiting in purgatory was a killer waste of time, but this, tournament? Death? How can a dead man die twice? Could possibly grant me godly status? I mean, what does that involve? Women? Drink? Gold? It would be something to be worshiped, eh? Mother always said I would amount fairly but never greatness. Well, to hell with her. I gripped the musket in my hands and forced my feet to stand. The flying horse-man had been pulled from the sky, one its wings were ripped off its back. It gripped the bow loosely in the hand, limping away on bloodied ankles. The creature was the closest to me so I rushed the nearly defenseless thing and struck him with my musket. The useless thing might have as well bounced off a wall. The horse-man turned to look at me angrily. I gripped and nearly stumbled backwards. The horse-man looked larger than he was before, his eyes turned red as the demon of an apocalypse, steam rose from his nostrils as he pulled up the bow and drew back its string. That's when his neck cracked, bent was more like it. I could see the fear in his eyes as the air in his throat lodged itself in his bent neck. A lump the size of a small baby burst threatened to burst from his skin. The horse-man cried out, "Auuurgh," reaching a heavy hand to grip me. So I struck him again. This time on his outstretched arm. For a second nothing happened, but then his arm fell from the weight that grew underneath his skin, crashing to the sand as it was engorged to the size of a cow. Emboldened by the staff, I struck him again and again, creating a gigantic, bubbling, pus filled mass where the horse-man once stood. I struck many other champions with my staff throughout the day. Even the ground to escape to a higher platform from my enemies. I figured the staff could even break things down. It could construct and deconstruct at the simple form of a touch. It could create what was indestructible. At the end of the first round I was greeted by Graylo and the God of Ire. "My boy! You've done," Graylo exclaimed. "I knew you would," he said proudly holding up the black bag that he had been religiously carrying. "It's never wrong." "What's in there Graylo," I asked him. The giant god seemed to hunch over and somehow made himself appear smaller. His hunched figure created a near shelter for the three of us, as he ushered me closer, blotting out most of the sun. "Are you insane, Graylo? Out here in the open?" "Don't fret, Ire, don't fret. I am shielding us from view." "What is it Graylo? What?" "It's one of the oldest objects I have ever come across." Ire sneered, "Now that's saying something." Graylo ignored him. "It has many rules. But the one simplest, truest rule, is never ask it anything you don't want the absolute answer to, for whatever it says, it will tell come to pass, no matter what." "No matter what?" "No matter what." "Can I see it?" Graylo looked dismayed, "Well, I don't-" "Oh come on, it's the least you could do," I reached for the bag and pulled open the string. The velvet black cloth fell apart and revealed a hard porcelain-like object. "The magic conch," the two of them breathed.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"What the hell does this peice of crap do?" "I don't actually know... But I summoned it with all the power I have!", beamed the rabbit sized god. "I'm going into mortal combat against these super-people and you give this... This... Do you hate me that much?" "Actually, I like you a lot. You're very lucky!" I smack my head against this musket thing in frustration, and suddenly a gauge popped up. It looks like some sort of roulette wheel, although I could not read the glyphs on it. Out of instinct you pointed the musket at the rabbit god and pulled the trigger, the gauge spun and stopped at a glyph with a circle and a square, suddenly the square shifted into the circle and at the same time the rabbit god faded out of existence. "What the fuck? Where did you go?" No answer. Great the god ditched him, I don't even know the way to the arena. I wandered around, trying to find some sort of directions. The realm of the gods seem to resemble the town where he was... Wait I recognize this place, it's my hometown! Maybe the gods put me here so I know where to go, sure nice of them to do that! Ok now, where could the arena be? I furrowed my brows to remember the town's layout. Ah! I could try the ice hockey arena. As I made my way over, I noticed people staring at me and lowering their eyes. Must be pitying my bad luck to be chosen to do this. Arriving at the arena, I found it full of activity; there were people practicing martial arts, some appear to be performing some sort of magic spell, and right at the entrance was a man in centurion gear looking fully the part of an entrance guard. I approached the guard and asked where contestants should go to register. He replied, "What are you talking about, god of luck? Why are you disguised as a human?" (Typed this on the bus, also my first WP! Hope it wasn't too terrible, my HS English teacher gave me Es for my essays :()	\|\|\\UPDATED\\\|\| &#x200B; "It takes a long time to load, Maron. It's old, older than the Twelve." "If it's older than the Twelve, why is it a musket?" "M-musket," the God of Ire spat. "How dare!" "Calm, steady, Ire, calm. The boy doesn't know." "He's not the right choice Murr, he isn't and you know it!" "He is the right choice! He was the one who was chosen." "You swear by it," the red faced calamity clapped. Murr stood for the first time, he towered above all, even those within the Twelve. It was said that he was of the first gods, that he was older than the blue planet, older even than the sun, that he came when the first Bang! broke across the universe. No other immortal looked like him. "Never. Question." The God of Ire grumpily turned away, "All Hail," he muttered. "Now, take hold, I said. Take hold," Murr said before shoving the musket-like thing into my hands. "This is the Horn of Ishka. In your history the Japanese have said from its tip dripped the land of the rising sun. Christians have called it the Spear of Destiny. Ancient Egyptians said it is the staff of Anubis. They're all wrong, seeing what they want to see. It is like seeing a cellphone and calling it a book of light." "A cell what?" "Nothing. In time you will understand. Now listen carefully soldier, it takes some time to load." "Like a musket." "It's not a musket," the God of Ire shouted in rage. Guards approached them in front of the coliseum, "I'm going to have everyone but the Champions, step back." "I'm a God" roared Ire furiously again. "Sure bud, who prays to you? Calling himself a God, can you believe this guy Pete?" Pete chuckled and just shook his head. "Now listen pal, back it up with the flames. They aren't scaring anybody," the guard proclaimed as he moved the two gods back. "Listen to me Maron! Listen! Just trust in it," he shouted after me. "Trust!" &#x200B; \|\|UPDATE\|\| &#x200B; The metal gates shut loudly behind me. I found myself in a group of other champions. A large beast creature stood next to me in half armor. He turned to me, revealing his pig snout and snorted, "What's that you got there? A musket?" I didn't know how to reply, so I just clutched my weapon in my hand. "To the back with you then," he grunted. The pig beast turned to face our band of scraggly fighters, with his shoulders towering us he said, "I am Jaime de la Ring. During my time on Earth I was a pig, not a boar, not a bull, just a pig. But I fought nearly a hundred of battles against larger enemies. My stage was much like this one, where I jousted with Matadors. Slaying them in their turf, in their land, in front of their families. Always the underpig. Today I once again, have the unlucky draw of life to banded with you lot for the first round. Those that survive this round will then qualify to fight individually for the Gods. I am not going to lie to you, many of you will die. But when I win this tournament, and be granted as the immortal swine, I will ask the Twelve to grant you all a chance of life, for you have all had the grace to share in this moment with me, this moment of my..guh...guh...gurrh!" "You talk to much," said a slithering voice behind the falling pig. Jaime de la Ring broke to his knees and fell face first in the sand, dead. A reptilian figure withdrew its fanged steel from between the pig warrior's shoulder blades. It had curved in such a way that it pierced the poor beast's heart. The gates began to roll up in front of me, the blinding light pooled into our small crevice as I heard a scream from behind, as the voices around me grew to a roar; we rushed out onto the sand. Already arrows darkened the sky as a man with a horse's head and sparrow's wings pulled back a majestic bow. Globs of fire lobbed by an ogre melted the sand into glass as shards were sent into enemies by a large black feline's hind legs. I saw the slithering snake I had been with, shouting at him to wait, but he had jumped head first into the sand and disappeared, only to reappear nearby - tripping a tanned Amazonian by wrapping his body around her. Something exploded nearby and I became half buried in sand, the explosion still ringing in my ears, the dust still heavy on my face. I laid flat. So much for everything they said, so much for all of the hope they gave me. How did this happen? Why was I here? Only a few hours ago I was standing in Purgatory. When these two figures began scouting down the line. "No, not this one." "What about this one? Looks nice and strong." The two peered into a bag and seemed to whisper something. "No, not that one," said the taller god as his head emerged from the bag. "Him?" "No, not him." "Well which is it!" the God of Ire said angrily. "It says we are close." "Are you sure it's not broken?" "Of course it isn't broken," the taller god said. "This thing is older than time itself, you don't just go living on older than time if you could easily be broken." "Well, maybe its got some kind of master plan that we're unaware of. Maybe it's not even trying to help us look for our champion. Maybe it's looking to help the real champion. Now listen here, if that's the case. I want no part of it, do you hear me Graylo? I am a winner. I win. I won't be some-" "Hush, Ire, hush. It can hear you. It can judge." "All hail," Ire mumbled grumpily. "Him," the one named Graylo pointed at me. "It's him." "Him?" "Me?" That's when Graylo hurriedly pushed the musket-like thing into my hands. "Why did you do that!" Ire shouted unhappily. "You know the thing binds, now we can never remove it unless he dies." "Because it's him." Graylo motions for a small green turtle sitting on a cloud, "Get the papers. We want him to represent us." The little horned thing took one long look at me and seemed to mutter under his breath, but then nodded to the two gods and left. Graylo took one long handed finger and pulled me from the line. "Wait, but my place. I was about to be sorted, weighed, balanced." "Hush, boy, hush. It's overrated, believe me. I've seen it millions of times. Nobody is ever really happy about where they're going. The one's that are, are already there. You're better off coming with us. We will make you into a God." So there I was, out of one war just to be thrown into battle in the next. Granted, waiting in purgatory was a killer waste of time, but this, tournament? Death? How can a dead man die twice? Could possibly grant me godly status? I mean, what does that involve? Women? Drink? Gold? It would be something to be worshiped, eh? Mother always said I would amount fairly but never greatness. Well, to hell with her. I gripped the musket in my hands and forced my feet to stand. The flying horse-man had been pulled from the sky, one its wings were ripped off its back. It gripped the bow loosely in the hand, limping away on bloodied ankles. The creature was the closest to me so I rushed the nearly defenseless thing and struck him with my musket. The useless thing might have as well bounced off a wall. The horse-man turned to look at me angrily. I gripped and nearly stumbled backwards. The horse-man looked larger than he was before, his eyes turned red as the demon of an apocalypse, steam rose from his nostrils as he pulled up the bow and drew back its string. That's when his neck cracked, bent was more like it. I could see the fear in his eyes as the air in his throat lodged itself in his bent neck. A lump the size of a small baby burst threatened to burst from his skin. The horse-man cried out, "Auuurgh," reaching a heavy hand to grip me. So I struck him again. This time on his outstretched arm. For a second nothing happened, but then his arm fell from the weight that grew underneath his skin, crashing to the sand as it was engorged to the size of a cow. Emboldened by the staff, I struck him again and again, creating a gigantic, bubbling, pus filled mass where the horse-man once stood. I struck many other champions with my staff throughout the day. Even the ground to escape to a higher platform from my enemies. I figured the staff could even break things down. It could construct and deconstruct at the simple form of a touch. It could create what was indestructible. At the end of the first round I was greeted by Graylo and the God of Ire. "My boy! You've done," Graylo exclaimed. "I knew you would," he said proudly holding up the black bag that he had been religiously carrying. "It's never wrong." "What's in there Graylo," I asked him. The giant god seemed to hunch over and somehow made himself appear smaller. His hunched figure created a near shelter for the three of us, as he ushered me closer, blotting out most of the sun. "Are you insane, Graylo? Out here in the open?" "Don't fret, Ire, don't fret. I am shielding us from view." "What is it Graylo? What?" "It's one of the oldest objects I have ever come across." Ire sneered, "Now that's saying something." Graylo ignored him. "It has many rules. But the one simplest, truest rule, is never ask it anything you don't want the absolute answer to, for whatever it says, it will tell come to pass, no matter what." "No matter what?" "No matter what." "Can I see it?" Graylo looked dismayed, "Well, I don't-" "Oh come on, it's the least you could do," I reached for the bag and pulled open the string. The velvet black cloth fell apart and revealed a hard porcelain-like object. "The magic conch," the two of them breathed.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I'm going to die. Wait no, sorry. I'm going to die, horribly. Raucous cheering filled the darkness as the wall in front of me shifted with a loud crunch. The floor beneath trembled as the gap widened, light filtering onto my feet. My heart raced. I couldn't breath. "This is not the time to have a panic attack!" I hissed, slapping myself in the face. The sting was comforting, but I was still terrified. I'd always wondered what people meant when they said their legs were like jelly, but now I knew exactly. It was as if someone had liquidised every structural component in my body from the waist down. I lent my shoulder on the wall for support, my fingers clenching the weapon in my hands. The light was up to my chest now. My knuckles were pulled tight, the white of bone translucent through my skin. "Twenty seconds until we release our brave fighters!" The crowd cheered wildly again. The lump in my throat became persistent. I swallowed until my mouth was arid. "Ten seconds!" The light shone onto my chin. My fingers burned where I'd been clutching the musket. Resigned, I hoisted the butt to my shoulder, cracking my neck. "Five!" My palms began to sweat. "Four!" I could see into the arena now, but an invisible force kept me from stepping forward. "Three!" It was your typical coliseum. A large pit of sand, surrounded by rows and rows of fat wealthy cats, cheering on whoever they'd put their money on. "Two!" Disgusted, I pulled up the barrel, cocking the gun. "One!" Adrenaline shot through me like lightning. I was scared. I felt sick. I was fuming. "Let the battle commence!" Lightning broke the sky as my enemies poured into the arena. They were all... huge. My stomach dropped. Somewhere across the arena, a man who looked half-human, half-titan, summoned a colossal ball of fire, sending it careening towards another. I heard his screams as he burnt alive. Distracted, I felt something heavy swing by my ear. I jumped backwards from it, aiming my gun at my assailant. Pain tore through my head and I gasped, biting down on my tongue to keep my concentration."Another addition to my collection." The barbarian had a wicked smile as she bent down to retrieve- wait, was that... I almost threw up on the spot. Smugness exuded from her as she hooked my ear onto the chain around her neck, surrounded by a couple of dozen others. "You know, you should have really been paying more attention if you wanted any hope of winning." Her laugh was abrasive. I gritted my teeth, taking aim. Finger on the trigger, I twitched. &#x200B; pew &#x200B; My mouth dropped open in exasperation. Instead of a bullet, a tiny white flag popped out the barrel of the musket. The barbarian raised an eyebrow, focus flicking between me and the fabric, flapping in the wind. She snorted. Then roared. Within a matter of seconds it became a full belly laugh, the warrior collapsed onto the floor. I couldn't move. Out of shock, pain or confusion, I wasn't sure, but my body wasn't obeying me. I could merely watch as she cackled away to herself. "I... I can't-" She spluttered between giggles, face turning blue. But it didn't sound right. The barbarians hands scrabbled at her neck, her attempts at sucking in air dashed by the constant laughter. "Help." She went limp, her last guffaw rattling. Blood oozed from a large gash in her side, staining the animal fur she'd worn around her waist. I blinked, shaking my head. And again. The flag had retracted back into the gun. I wondered if I'd just imagined this whole scenario as she'd meticulously dismembered my body. Commotion dragged my attention back to the rest of the arena. "Amazing! Zelkah's conjuring another spirit beast; place your bets on what this one will be guys! My money's on a Void Goat!" The announcer boomed over the speakers. The giant human from earlier was now surrounded by an entourage of disembodied creatures, varying from weasels to rhinos. The lump in my throat came back. I tried to swallow but my mouth was still barren. The barrel of the musket glinted in the light of the four suns as I aimed it at him. &#x200B; \* \* \* "Literally splitting people's sides with laughter? Really?" My god grinned at me, displayed rows of perfect teeth. "You had no faith in me kiddo." He jabbed a finger into my chest, eyes soft like honey. "But I had faith in you. Shame about the ear." A plain silver pendant, materialised in front me me, bobbing softly in midair. "Congratulations." My fingers wound around the item, beaming at the deity. "Thanks, Loki."	\|\|\\UPDATED\\\|\| &#x200B; "It takes a long time to load, Maron. It's old, older than the Twelve." "If it's older than the Twelve, why is it a musket?" "M-musket," the God of Ire spat. "How dare!" "Calm, steady, Ire, calm. The boy doesn't know." "He's not the right choice Murr, he isn't and you know it!" "He is the right choice! He was the one who was chosen." "You swear by it," the red faced calamity clapped. Murr stood for the first time, he towered above all, even those within the Twelve. It was said that he was of the first gods, that he was older than the blue planet, older even than the sun, that he came when the first Bang! broke across the universe. No other immortal looked like him. "Never. Question." The God of Ire grumpily turned away, "All Hail," he muttered. "Now, take hold, I said. Take hold," Murr said before shoving the musket-like thing into my hands. "This is the Horn of Ishka. In your history the Japanese have said from its tip dripped the land of the rising sun. Christians have called it the Spear of Destiny. Ancient Egyptians said it is the staff of Anubis. They're all wrong, seeing what they want to see. It is like seeing a cellphone and calling it a book of light." "A cell what?" "Nothing. In time you will understand. Now listen carefully soldier, it takes some time to load." "Like a musket." "It's not a musket," the God of Ire shouted in rage. Guards approached them in front of the coliseum, "I'm going to have everyone but the Champions, step back." "I'm a God" roared Ire furiously again. "Sure bud, who prays to you? Calling himself a God, can you believe this guy Pete?" Pete chuckled and just shook his head. "Now listen pal, back it up with the flames. They aren't scaring anybody," the guard proclaimed as he moved the two gods back. "Listen to me Maron! Listen! Just trust in it," he shouted after me. "Trust!" &#x200B; \|\|UPDATE\|\| &#x200B; The metal gates shut loudly behind me. I found myself in a group of other champions. A large beast creature stood next to me in half armor. He turned to me, revealing his pig snout and snorted, "What's that you got there? A musket?" I didn't know how to reply, so I just clutched my weapon in my hand. "To the back with you then," he grunted. The pig beast turned to face our band of scraggly fighters, with his shoulders towering us he said, "I am Jaime de la Ring. During my time on Earth I was a pig, not a boar, not a bull, just a pig. But I fought nearly a hundred of battles against larger enemies. My stage was much like this one, where I jousted with Matadors. Slaying them in their turf, in their land, in front of their families. Always the underpig. Today I once again, have the unlucky draw of life to banded with you lot for the first round. Those that survive this round will then qualify to fight individually for the Gods. I am not going to lie to you, many of you will die. But when I win this tournament, and be granted as the immortal swine, I will ask the Twelve to grant you all a chance of life, for you have all had the grace to share in this moment with me, this moment of my..guh...guh...gurrh!" "You talk to much," said a slithering voice behind the falling pig. Jaime de la Ring broke to his knees and fell face first in the sand, dead. A reptilian figure withdrew its fanged steel from between the pig warrior's shoulder blades. It had curved in such a way that it pierced the poor beast's heart. The gates began to roll up in front of me, the blinding light pooled into our small crevice as I heard a scream from behind, as the voices around me grew to a roar; we rushed out onto the sand. Already arrows darkened the sky as a man with a horse's head and sparrow's wings pulled back a majestic bow. Globs of fire lobbed by an ogre melted the sand into glass as shards were sent into enemies by a large black feline's hind legs. I saw the slithering snake I had been with, shouting at him to wait, but he had jumped head first into the sand and disappeared, only to reappear nearby - tripping a tanned Amazonian by wrapping his body around her. Something exploded nearby and I became half buried in sand, the explosion still ringing in my ears, the dust still heavy on my face. I laid flat. So much for everything they said, so much for all of the hope they gave me. How did this happen? Why was I here? Only a few hours ago I was standing in Purgatory. When these two figures began scouting down the line. "No, not this one." "What about this one? Looks nice and strong." The two peered into a bag and seemed to whisper something. "No, not that one," said the taller god as his head emerged from the bag. "Him?" "No, not him." "Well which is it!" the God of Ire said angrily. "It says we are close." "Are you sure it's not broken?" "Of course it isn't broken," the taller god said. "This thing is older than time itself, you don't just go living on older than time if you could easily be broken." "Well, maybe its got some kind of master plan that we're unaware of. Maybe it's not even trying to help us look for our champion. Maybe it's looking to help the real champion. Now listen here, if that's the case. I want no part of it, do you hear me Graylo? I am a winner. I win. I won't be some-" "Hush, Ire, hush. It can hear you. It can judge." "All hail," Ire mumbled grumpily. "Him," the one named Graylo pointed at me. "It's him." "Him?" "Me?" That's when Graylo hurriedly pushed the musket-like thing into my hands. "Why did you do that!" Ire shouted unhappily. "You know the thing binds, now we can never remove it unless he dies." "Because it's him." Graylo motions for a small green turtle sitting on a cloud, "Get the papers. We want him to represent us." The little horned thing took one long look at me and seemed to mutter under his breath, but then nodded to the two gods and left. Graylo took one long handed finger and pulled me from the line. "Wait, but my place. I was about to be sorted, weighed, balanced." "Hush, boy, hush. It's overrated, believe me. I've seen it millions of times. Nobody is ever really happy about where they're going. The one's that are, are already there. You're better off coming with us. We will make you into a God." So there I was, out of one war just to be thrown into battle in the next. Granted, waiting in purgatory was a killer waste of time, but this, tournament? Death? How can a dead man die twice? Could possibly grant me godly status? I mean, what does that involve? Women? Drink? Gold? It would be something to be worshiped, eh? Mother always said I would amount fairly but never greatness. Well, to hell with her. I gripped the musket in my hands and forced my feet to stand. The flying horse-man had been pulled from the sky, one its wings were ripped off its back. It gripped the bow loosely in the hand, limping away on bloodied ankles. The creature was the closest to me so I rushed the nearly defenseless thing and struck him with my musket. The useless thing might have as well bounced off a wall. The horse-man turned to look at me angrily. I gripped and nearly stumbled backwards. The horse-man looked larger than he was before, his eyes turned red as the demon of an apocalypse, steam rose from his nostrils as he pulled up the bow and drew back its string. That's when his neck cracked, bent was more like it. I could see the fear in his eyes as the air in his throat lodged itself in his bent neck. A lump the size of a small baby burst threatened to burst from his skin. The horse-man cried out, "Auuurgh," reaching a heavy hand to grip me. So I struck him again. This time on his outstretched arm. For a second nothing happened, but then his arm fell from the weight that grew underneath his skin, crashing to the sand as it was engorged to the size of a cow. Emboldened by the staff, I struck him again and again, creating a gigantic, bubbling, pus filled mass where the horse-man once stood. I struck many other champions with my staff throughout the day. Even the ground to escape to a higher platform from my enemies. I figured the staff could even break things down. It could construct and deconstruct at the simple form of a touch. It could create what was indestructible. At the end of the first round I was greeted by Graylo and the God of Ire. "My boy! You've done," Graylo exclaimed. "I knew you would," he said proudly holding up the black bag that he had been religiously carrying. "It's never wrong." "What's in there Graylo," I asked him. The giant god seemed to hunch over and somehow made himself appear smaller. His hunched figure created a near shelter for the three of us, as he ushered me closer, blotting out most of the sun. "Are you insane, Graylo? Out here in the open?" "Don't fret, Ire, don't fret. I am shielding us from view." "What is it Graylo? What?" "It's one of the oldest objects I have ever come across." Ire sneered, "Now that's saying something." Graylo ignored him. "It has many rules. But the one simplest, truest rule, is never ask it anything you don't want the absolute answer to, for whatever it says, it will tell come to pass, no matter what." "No matter what?" "No matter what." "Can I see it?" Graylo looked dismayed, "Well, I don't-" "Oh come on, it's the least you could do," I reached for the bag and pulled open the string. The velvet black cloth fell apart and revealed a hard porcelain-like object. "The magic conch," the two of them breathed.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"You'll do fine," Orixia assured him. "But all you gave me is this stupid antique!" "That 'stupid antique,'" his sponsor retorted, "is a genuine Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. In its time, it was prized for its range, its accuracy, and its reliability." "Great! But all the other competitors are going to have every superpower in the book! This is horseshit compared to what I'll be facing in the arena!" Orixia smiled. "Just practice with it for the next week. And trust me." &sect; Each god was entitled to bestow powers on their candidate in accordance with their own power, which gave the most powerful gods a decided advantage and also tended to maintain the status quo among the pantheon. In the interest of fairness, however, each candidate also had to be given a mortal weakness, and the rules for selecting that weakness were strict and inviolable. The gods, being gods, all wanted their candidates' weaknesses to be as small as possible, so in the days before candidate selection they each went to the Celestial Historian, a noted expert in all things related to war and combat, and charged him with researching the most insignificant weakness they could bestow which would still qualify. Finally, the tournament began, and each competitor in turn was announced, along with their attributes. "The god Aros the Ultimate presents David Peterson, whose powers are near-infinite strength and superhuman speed! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket." There was heard much laughter and a few boos from the massed audience. In limiting his candidate's Achilles' heel to an attack with such an ancient, obscure weapon, Aros the Ultimate had virtually assured his victory. The tournament might as well end now. "The goddess Belingia the Great presents Angela Moquat, whose powers are ultimate mastery of edged weapons and birdlike flight! Her mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket." A gasp rose from the audience, followed by a growing murmur. What was going on here? "The god Caranis the Merciless presents M'tanga I'pongo, whose powers are transformation into fierce animals and the ability to cast fire! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket." So it continued through scores of candidates, until the last, weakest entry was introduced... "The god Orixia the Celestial Historian presents Jeff Myrtlebank, whose powers are outstanding marksmanship and the mastery of his Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. His mortal weakness is being brought to orgasm orally by Aros the Ultimate." Jeff and Orixia stood silently as all the other gods gathered at the other end of the arena and engaged in animated conversation. Finally Aros the Ultimate's booming voice rang out for all to hear: "NO! I am not going to 'take one for the team!'" Each candidate forfeited in turn, until only one remained. Jeff Myrtlebank was accepted to the pantheon, and every power granted to every candidate was given to him, along with all their vulnerabilities--which, ironically, were all the same. &sect; In the end, he alone among the gods had only two weaknesses. One became no weakness at all when he used his powers to secretly replace all Springfield Model 1861's in the universe with identical replicas, which of course held no threat to him. As for the other, Jeff eventually defeated Aros and took the throne, and even when facing annihilation, Aros remained true to his word. --- Edit: Thanks to /u/IReddYourWords for [the audiobook version!](https://youtu.be/YqrDIhoneGI)	\|\|\\UPDATED\\\|\| &#x200B; "It takes a long time to load, Maron. It's old, older than the Twelve." "If it's older than the Twelve, why is it a musket?" "M-musket," the God of Ire spat. "How dare!" "Calm, steady, Ire, calm. The boy doesn't know." "He's not the right choice Murr, he isn't and you know it!" "He is the right choice! He was the one who was chosen." "You swear by it," the red faced calamity clapped. Murr stood for the first time, he towered above all, even those within the Twelve. It was said that he was of the first gods, that he was older than the blue planet, older even than the sun, that he came when the first Bang! broke across the universe. No other immortal looked like him. "Never. Question." The God of Ire grumpily turned away, "All Hail," he muttered. "Now, take hold, I said. Take hold," Murr said before shoving the musket-like thing into my hands. "This is the Horn of Ishka. In your history the Japanese have said from its tip dripped the land of the rising sun. Christians have called it the Spear of Destiny. Ancient Egyptians said it is the staff of Anubis. They're all wrong, seeing what they want to see. It is like seeing a cellphone and calling it a book of light." "A cell what?" "Nothing. In time you will understand. Now listen carefully soldier, it takes some time to load." "Like a musket." "It's not a musket," the God of Ire shouted in rage. Guards approached them in front of the coliseum, "I'm going to have everyone but the Champions, step back." "I'm a God" roared Ire furiously again. "Sure bud, who prays to you? Calling himself a God, can you believe this guy Pete?" Pete chuckled and just shook his head. "Now listen pal, back it up with the flames. They aren't scaring anybody," the guard proclaimed as he moved the two gods back. "Listen to me Maron! Listen! Just trust in it," he shouted after me. "Trust!" &#x200B; \|\|UPDATE\|\| &#x200B; The metal gates shut loudly behind me. I found myself in a group of other champions. A large beast creature stood next to me in half armor. He turned to me, revealing his pig snout and snorted, "What's that you got there? A musket?" I didn't know how to reply, so I just clutched my weapon in my hand. "To the back with you then," he grunted. The pig beast turned to face our band of scraggly fighters, with his shoulders towering us he said, "I am Jaime de la Ring. During my time on Earth I was a pig, not a boar, not a bull, just a pig. But I fought nearly a hundred of battles against larger enemies. My stage was much like this one, where I jousted with Matadors. Slaying them in their turf, in their land, in front of their families. Always the underpig. Today I once again, have the unlucky draw of life to banded with you lot for the first round. Those that survive this round will then qualify to fight individually for the Gods. I am not going to lie to you, many of you will die. But when I win this tournament, and be granted as the immortal swine, I will ask the Twelve to grant you all a chance of life, for you have all had the grace to share in this moment with me, this moment of my..guh...guh...gurrh!" "You talk to much," said a slithering voice behind the falling pig. Jaime de la Ring broke to his knees and fell face first in the sand, dead. A reptilian figure withdrew its fanged steel from between the pig warrior's shoulder blades. It had curved in such a way that it pierced the poor beast's heart. The gates began to roll up in front of me, the blinding light pooled into our small crevice as I heard a scream from behind, as the voices around me grew to a roar; we rushed out onto the sand. Already arrows darkened the sky as a man with a horse's head and sparrow's wings pulled back a majestic bow. Globs of fire lobbed by an ogre melted the sand into glass as shards were sent into enemies by a large black feline's hind legs. I saw the slithering snake I had been with, shouting at him to wait, but he had jumped head first into the sand and disappeared, only to reappear nearby - tripping a tanned Amazonian by wrapping his body around her. Something exploded nearby and I became half buried in sand, the explosion still ringing in my ears, the dust still heavy on my face. I laid flat. So much for everything they said, so much for all of the hope they gave me. How did this happen? Why was I here? Only a few hours ago I was standing in Purgatory. When these two figures began scouting down the line. "No, not this one." "What about this one? Looks nice and strong." The two peered into a bag and seemed to whisper something. "No, not that one," said the taller god as his head emerged from the bag. "Him?" "No, not him." "Well which is it!" the God of Ire said angrily. "It says we are close." "Are you sure it's not broken?" "Of course it isn't broken," the taller god said. "This thing is older than time itself, you don't just go living on older than time if you could easily be broken." "Well, maybe its got some kind of master plan that we're unaware of. Maybe it's not even trying to help us look for our champion. Maybe it's looking to help the real champion. Now listen here, if that's the case. I want no part of it, do you hear me Graylo? I am a winner. I win. I won't be some-" "Hush, Ire, hush. It can hear you. It can judge." "All hail," Ire mumbled grumpily. "Him," the one named Graylo pointed at me. "It's him." "Him?" "Me?" That's when Graylo hurriedly pushed the musket-like thing into my hands. "Why did you do that!" Ire shouted unhappily. "You know the thing binds, now we can never remove it unless he dies." "Because it's him." Graylo motions for a small green turtle sitting on a cloud, "Get the papers. We want him to represent us." The little horned thing took one long look at me and seemed to mutter under his breath, but then nodded to the two gods and left. Graylo took one long handed finger and pulled me from the line. "Wait, but my place. I was about to be sorted, weighed, balanced." "Hush, boy, hush. It's overrated, believe me. I've seen it millions of times. Nobody is ever really happy about where they're going. The one's that are, are already there. You're better off coming with us. We will make you into a God." So there I was, out of one war just to be thrown into battle in the next. Granted, waiting in purgatory was a killer waste of time, but this, tournament? Death? How can a dead man die twice? Could possibly grant me godly status? I mean, what does that involve? Women? Drink? Gold? It would be something to be worshiped, eh? Mother always said I would amount fairly but never greatness. Well, to hell with her. I gripped the musket in my hands and forced my feet to stand. The flying horse-man had been pulled from the sky, one its wings were ripped off its back. It gripped the bow loosely in the hand, limping away on bloodied ankles. The creature was the closest to me so I rushed the nearly defenseless thing and struck him with my musket. The useless thing might have as well bounced off a wall. The horse-man turned to look at me angrily. I gripped and nearly stumbled backwards. The horse-man looked larger than he was before, his eyes turned red as the demon of an apocalypse, steam rose from his nostrils as he pulled up the bow and drew back its string. That's when his neck cracked, bent was more like it. I could see the fear in his eyes as the air in his throat lodged itself in his bent neck. A lump the size of a small baby burst threatened to burst from his skin. The horse-man cried out, "Auuurgh," reaching a heavy hand to grip me. So I struck him again. This time on his outstretched arm. For a second nothing happened, but then his arm fell from the weight that grew underneath his skin, crashing to the sand as it was engorged to the size of a cow. Emboldened by the staff, I struck him again and again, creating a gigantic, bubbling, pus filled mass where the horse-man once stood. I struck many other champions with my staff throughout the day. Even the ground to escape to a higher platform from my enemies. I figured the staff could even break things down. It could construct and deconstruct at the simple form of a touch. It could create what was indestructible. At the end of the first round I was greeted by Graylo and the God of Ire. "My boy! You've done," Graylo exclaimed. "I knew you would," he said proudly holding up the black bag that he had been religiously carrying. "It's never wrong." "What's in there Graylo," I asked him. The giant god seemed to hunch over and somehow made himself appear smaller. His hunched figure created a near shelter for the three of us, as he ushered me closer, blotting out most of the sun. "Are you insane, Graylo? Out here in the open?" "Don't fret, Ire, don't fret. I am shielding us from view." "What is it Graylo? What?" "It's one of the oldest objects I have ever come across." Ire sneered, "Now that's saying something." Graylo ignored him. "It has many rules. But the one simplest, truest rule, is never ask it anything you don't want the absolute answer to, for whatever it says, it will tell come to pass, no matter what." "No matter what?" "No matter what." "Can I see it?" Graylo looked dismayed, "Well, I don't-" "Oh come on, it's the least you could do," I reached for the bag and pulled open the string. The velvet black cloth fell apart and revealed a hard porcelain-like object. "The magic conch," the two of them breathed.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	Cameron stared at the musket dangling on a string of gold. It was almost entirely wood, save for a few strips of shiny silver. Two cartoony, golden, almost plastic angel wings were attached near the barrel, like something from a children's toy. She - her name, confusingly - pranced over to the gun, her hazy silhouette bobbing up and down. She, her face manifested as a minimalistic outline, gave Cameron a smile. "Thoughts?" "It, um, what is it?" "Your weapon!" She declared, smile forced wider. "A musket?" Cameron glanced between She and her weapon. "Brandon was bragging about superspeed. Airi can make force fields-" "Well we're on a budget." She grabbed the musket and thrust it into Cameron's arms. "How am I supposed to-" "Hold on, almost forgot the string," She said, snapping her fingers. The golden string unwound from the wooden beam above. A moment later, it whirled around the musket's wings, outlining the feathers. "Looks much better now, eh?" Cameron bit his lower lip. "Yep, way better." "Fantastic, I'm so glad you like it," She said. "Do you know how to shoot a musket?" "I'm a carpenter." "Yeah, yeah, but you could've had, like, a sharpshooting hobby, right?" "No." "Excellent." She paused. "Okay, Cameron, I'm gonna need you to trust me." "Sure." As if he had a choice. "Okay, so, I don't have a gun you can practice with." "Right," Cameron said. "And you can't practice with the musket." "Can't practice with-" Cameron fiddled with his words. "I don't know how to shoot a gun. Aren't-" He paused. "Aren't muskets even more difficult to use than normal?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, definitely. But, um, well you should be fine," She said. "That string is lucky, understand? It'll help you out. Definitely. I spent all my Divinity on it, so it ought to be high quality." Cameron gripped the musket. "Don't worry, it's not like you'll die," She said, waving her hand. "Just pull the trigger once and BAM, you'll win in a jiffy." \# Brandon ran circles around the arena, only visible through brief flashes of light. Much to his sponsor's annoyance, he had decided taunting his enemies was more productive than ending the fight in a moment. "Come on, shoot me! Try it!" Brandon said, laughing. His silhouette flashed around as Cameron tried to take aim. "Just fire!" She called from the side. "Oh, forget it," Cameron muttered. He pulled the trigger, aiming where he last saw Brandon's flash. There was no thunder, bang, or fizz. The wings merely fluttered for a moment before falling off. Brandon stopped to laugh. Cameron glanced at his opponent's sponsor, Orthun. He looked dead serious. "YES!" She cried. Cameron looked to her, finding that she was jumping and waving her arms around, or at least as well as a humanoid haze could. "YES, YES, YES!!" There was a fizz and a pop. A cool breeze brushed against Cameron's right cheek. The wings floated up, then dissolved into black dust. The lights around the arena dimmed. Dirt and dust slowly swirled around Cameron in organized streams, weaving into a cloth-like substance. Frail hands grasped Cameron's shoulders. They were warm, almost comforting. However, Cameron found himself frozen, staring at the wretched, curved blade stuck in the ground in front of him. Its blade was polished, almost reflective as a mirror. Brandon stepped back, afraid. Orthun sighed and shook his head. "HIGH QUALITY!" She shouted, almost taunting, toward Orthun. "Mm, a succession contest?" a terribly bored voice sounded out. "I was called out for this? Oh, how annoying." A frail hand left Cameron's shoulders and snapped its fingers. Brandon turned pale and collapsed. The world blurred for a moment, And Cameron felt dizzy as the Being behind him returned to dirt. Orthun strolled over, slowly clapping. A woman blinked into existence next to Cameron, petite and terribly pale. Her face was freckled and round, and her dress rippled off her into streams of ethereal mist. "See, see, I told you to trust me!" the woman said. Cameron raised an eyebrow. "She?" "No, no," the woman said, waving her hand. "I'm Sheriliaa!" She threw her arm around his shoulders. "I've got a name now because of you! And a body! Oooh, it was worth saving up all those centuries. My candidate finally won!" "Oh, um, oh..." Cameron fell to his knees, head spinning. "I'll be your advisor! Aren't you excited? I can't wait!" "Oh good..." Cameron murmured, fading into unconsciousness. \# Wrote right before bed, sorry for lack of detail.	Within the warm brown hand of Itri, the weapon was the most damnedest thing he saw. His patron had slipped it into his hand when it was his turned to be acknowledged at the trial of the twenty-two. Out of all the weapons Itri had seen, the fool's felt so inadequate against them. He had seen curved swords with serrated edges and runes of flame that burned down the center of the black metal. He had seen long chain whips with prongs that could punch through armor and which lightning would ride down the length so that if the puncture did not kill a man, the electricity would finish them off. He tilted the pistol, he admitted, even though it was not the most opportune moment to appraise the artifact granted to him by a god, the pistol looked great. The frame of the gun was carved out of smooth ivory that secured a dark gray barrel to the pistol. Near the end of the metal tube, where the breach and the touch hole were located, gold leaf decorated the metal in a flowery pattern. The end of the barrel was not shaped like a normal pistol, it had no rounded end. Instead, the barrel had been shaped to the face of a man with a wide-open maw in which hell could erupt from. By Itri's reckoning whatever destruction it could wreak paled as a streak of blue lit up his face. He could hear the cry of a man struck by the Empress' Handmaiden, the woman with the whip. He blinked and looked up across the field of battle to see she had slain the Emperor's man, the one with the mace. Itri recalled that if that mace had even touched a subject, their bones would turn to dust. He had to congratulate the smart move on the Handmaiden, she dealt with the threat quick. The other bodies had littered the arena. Quite the spectacle, Itri had to agree from where he stood in the corner. All twenty-two were to be joined in a battle, but he noticed most had gone after each other. Eager to bring down the greater threats before turning on the Fool's man with his little pistol. Itri had to thank the Handmaiden and the way she brought the whip down. She had actually killed the Tower's spearman as he sized up Itri for the kill. What did the Tower's spear even do? Itri thought. He imagined it did something better than his pistol. He jerked his head up as he heard the soft whistle overhead. The prongs of the Handmaid's whip lashed out towards him. If he had not jumped behind the column it may have been all over. The prongs buried themselves deep into the dark green marble. He could hear the clink of chains as she tried to extract the barbed end. "Uhm... would... would you take my surrender?" Itri asked. "I would. Just kneel before me and I'll make it quick." The Handmaid said after she grunted and pulled at the chain. "I would have preferred that I survive my surrender," He stepped around. Her hair was a mound of curled brunette against the soft fawn-skin. With a sudden jerk, she had pulled the whip's prongs from the column. The chain sailed and fell behind her as she turned to face him. Itri had the pistol drawn, the barrel-shaped as the Fool's head pointed at her. "You think that bullet could travel quick enough before my tip found you?" She asked, her eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess for my sake I better hope so." He squeezed the trigger before she could carry her threat. There was a jerk of the ivory pistol followed by a puff of gray smoke. As the fog cleared he saw a flag had sprung from the pistol. The cloth was was red with words in white: BANG! "Heh... the Fool's gift mocks you," The Handmaid laughed once... then twice. Then she burst into laughter, her long hair whipped behind her as she continued to laugh. At first, the laugh had sound forced, urged on by her contempt for Itri the Fool's Champion. But as she continued he found her laugh had turned genuine and then maddening, a constant guffaw that reverberated and echoed off the walls until it was not only her laugh but the laugh of hundreds. It was a laughter of contempt, but Itri found it was no longer laughter at him, but laughter at the entire bloody spectacle that had filled the arena. When it all ended, it ended in a few errant giggles as she lowered her head and he saw blood run down her nose and in her eyes. "Heh..." was the Empress' Handmaiden's last word before she pitched forward and landed hard on the stone ground. Itri stood alone. He looked above to see the assemblage of the Gods who had begun to clap for him.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I blink. What the fuck just happened? One minute I'm laying in bed, catching up on some youtube videos - and suddenly I'm not anymore... I'm on a couch? It didn't feel like I moved, like anything happened at all, I just suddenly am here now. Everything has a weird kind of feeling to it, it's hard to describe, almost like an aura you could almost see - it just feels off. But, this looks like a normal enough living room. The carpets are nice, this couch is comfortable... There's a man sitting in that recliner over there, is he watching TV? "Hello?" He looks over my way slowly, his slender pale face looked quizzical at first, then his eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah, that was today - right..." He let out an audible sigh and the television went dark in front of him. I just realized, I'm still just in a pair of boxers... not even the kind with a button, stupid open flap ones. He motions to the end of the couch I'm on as his chair turns toward me. "You'll probably need to learn how to shoot that" a gun that resembles a musket is seated next to me, it's got one of those cheap bows from walmart stuck to it - even has the price tag still on the base. 39 cents? How long has that bow been sitting around for? "Uhhh, can I ask why" I'm not so sure I want to know though. "Well, one of the gods has decided he was done and just up and left. Now we gotta have this big battle to see which mortal is suited to become the next god, yadda yadda" "Wait, hold on... no really, yadda yadda? I'm gonna fight against people and it's a 'yadda yadda?' "Well, they don't call me the god of Laziness for nothing" Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into? "God of Laziness?" "Present" "... Okay, first question - why me? "Oh, well a lot of the other gods spent time searching the earth for someone who was suited - someone who would rise to the occasion, painstakingly checking every single... Oh god that just sounded so BORING. I picked you out of a hat." "What?" ...WHAT!?! "I'm kidding! Actually it's a bit much to describe, but I developed a way to speak to the earth itself and listen to what she has to say. It's really handy for when you don't want to do anything but need to know about things on earth" "... are you joking again, orrrr" "Nope, took me 20 years to figure out a way, but it has saved me countless hours since" ...Isn't that kind of amazing in it's own way? I guess that's why he's the GOD of laziness He smiled a bit "She said you were the person I'd get along with best, which is great because the only guy I even liked up here just up and left his seat." "Who was that anyway?" "God of Sex, dude was a FREAK - but he just was too much to handle" Wait, does that mean... "So, I could be the next God of Sex?" He laughed... a lot... and just when he was winding it down, he looked back up at me and he just started laughing even harder. "So, what kind of god would I become?" I asked once he finally quieted down a bit. "I actually don't know," He shrugged slightly "You just kind of know when it happens" That... is not reassuring. "My weapon is a gun, I assume the fights are to the death?" "You assume correctly" "And, can I assume that you all being gods will either protect us or resurrect anyone who dies?" "You don't assume quite as correctly on that one" Ah fuck... "There is some worse news," he continued "I'm kind of bottom of the totem pole up here - so I can't really grant you any 'powers' like superhuman strength, or anything good really... I mean I kind of even had the weapon over there for you on 'auto pick' because I was choosing last and Artemis took for fucking EVER" "Auto pick?" "Yeah, I won't go into details, but basically I let the earth choose the weapon then used a 'stand in' to actually pick it. I came back to watch some more anime" ... I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die fucking horribly, this is awesome. "So, wait a minute - earth chose this for me?" I looked at the gun, it really looks like a musket... "She said something about some of the most lopsided wars in terms of casualties were fought when one side had this weapon" "That sounds like some REALLY flimsy logic" "Yeah, I probably should have been there. Could have at least taken the gist of the advice and gotten you a more modern gun - but hey what can you do? Half these dolts chose to have their 'champions' wield spears and shit, in this day and age. My money is on the Goddess of self-importance, she got a trained hitman - and apparently chose an AR-15 as his weapon. I mean, she may be in the same boat as me in terms of bestowing powers - but she really put some effort into this" I really wish I was back home. "Ah, but don't worry too much. I have a plan, I mean I REALLY do want someone up here who gets me - and Earth said you were a cool dude so I put some effort into this" "And that plan is?" "...Wouldn't you rather get dressed first?" --- After getting dressed and spending a little time in the 'killing fields' learning how to load and fire the musket, I came to the realization that this 'weapon' is definitely going to get me killed... He spent some time explaining the 'plan' - or half-explaining, difficult questions often answered with "Wing it!"... This only reassured me that I am totally screwed. We went back to his house and I found myself in thought, sitting at a table, much too long of one - this thing must be 40 feet long... and this room - the dining room, why is this room so much more elegant than the rest of his house? "I see you are admiring the tasteful decor, yeah I hate it." "... Then why don't you change it?" He just smiled and nodded as he reached for the hot pocket in front of him... I might not have even assumed whatever he was eating was a hot-pocket... but it's resting on the box, he's using the box as a plate... "OH!" he exclaimed, with a mouth full of hotpocket "I almost forgot, the name is John" "... I'm Mark - Mark Jacobs... I'm sure you knew that though... Do you gods have last names?" "Nope, I'm just John. Always has been that way" "I'm not gonna question it, I'm sure you chose that name with great care" "I uh, I don't even remember. It's been so long. At first they had me running this place, let me tell you that was a mess... I don't even want to get into it. But a couple years back I turned that over to some new guy who seemed promising, he left sometime after that though and it's changed hands once or twice. It's too bad, I really liked that guy, went by 'Zeus' I think..." ... I just heard something very troubling. "You used to run... Heaven? ... what do you call this place?" "Close enough, but like I said - I don't want to get into it." "But c'mon, you used to RUN the place, you have to have some special powers or something right? How did you go from-" "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" his eyes took a serious look Oops, hit a nerve... better back it off a bit "Okay, I'm sorry John. You're right, let's just focus on the task at hand" I looked down at the gun I had now resting against my chair, and then forward to the hot pocket John had made for me, it was resting on a paper towel folded over a couple times - the grease soaking through the first layer entirely. I didn't feel so good - eating was definitely out of the question "So, it's a Battle Royale style fight?" "Yeah, Artemis was so insistent on that - she apparently went and saw The Hunger Games in theaters - she's been obsessed since" Of course. "I play a bit of PUBG so the idea has grown on me" And of course. "I know we went over the plan before, like half-assedly glazed over it, but how long will I have to wait? When does the fight begin?" He slowly turned his head toward the clock on the wall. "Well as for how long you have to wait, I packed some provisions in the bag - should make it pass in no time. And for when the fight starts - we got 3 minutes yet" "... I really hope that's another joke" "Yeah, it was" he smiled "It's time now." And again, I'm just here. At least this time, I know where I am. The trees, that river, I'm 350 out from my target area. Time for a hike I guess. I was going to have to make my way along this river, but I stopped to check the bag to see what 'provisions' John had packed for me Backpack contents: Beef Jerky, one pack Water canteen, filled with mountain dew for some reason The 'secret weapon'... Tissues, one box Lotion, one bottle Porno Mags... like 20, seriously most of the weight of this damned bag was paper! I am not going to spend my time like that. Besides, this area is actually tiny, I can't imagine that the wait will be that long. I'd better get to the spot and get deployed. --- (cont.)	Within the warm brown hand of Itri, the weapon was the most damnedest thing he saw. His patron had slipped it into his hand when it was his turned to be acknowledged at the trial of the twenty-two. Out of all the weapons Itri had seen, the fool's felt so inadequate against them. He had seen curved swords with serrated edges and runes of flame that burned down the center of the black metal. He had seen long chain whips with prongs that could punch through armor and which lightning would ride down the length so that if the puncture did not kill a man, the electricity would finish them off. He tilted the pistol, he admitted, even though it was not the most opportune moment to appraise the artifact granted to him by a god, the pistol looked great. The frame of the gun was carved out of smooth ivory that secured a dark gray barrel to the pistol. Near the end of the metal tube, where the breach and the touch hole were located, gold leaf decorated the metal in a flowery pattern. The end of the barrel was not shaped like a normal pistol, it had no rounded end. Instead, the barrel had been shaped to the face of a man with a wide-open maw in which hell could erupt from. By Itri's reckoning whatever destruction it could wreak paled as a streak of blue lit up his face. He could hear the cry of a man struck by the Empress' Handmaiden, the woman with the whip. He blinked and looked up across the field of battle to see she had slain the Emperor's man, the one with the mace. Itri recalled that if that mace had even touched a subject, their bones would turn to dust. He had to congratulate the smart move on the Handmaiden, she dealt with the threat quick. The other bodies had littered the arena. Quite the spectacle, Itri had to agree from where he stood in the corner. All twenty-two were to be joined in a battle, but he noticed most had gone after each other. Eager to bring down the greater threats before turning on the Fool's man with his little pistol. Itri had to thank the Handmaiden and the way she brought the whip down. She had actually killed the Tower's spearman as he sized up Itri for the kill. What did the Tower's spear even do? Itri thought. He imagined it did something better than his pistol. He jerked his head up as he heard the soft whistle overhead. The prongs of the Handmaid's whip lashed out towards him. If he had not jumped behind the column it may have been all over. The prongs buried themselves deep into the dark green marble. He could hear the clink of chains as she tried to extract the barbed end. "Uhm... would... would you take my surrender?" Itri asked. "I would. Just kneel before me and I'll make it quick." The Handmaid said after she grunted and pulled at the chain. "I would have preferred that I survive my surrender," He stepped around. Her hair was a mound of curled brunette against the soft fawn-skin. With a sudden jerk, she had pulled the whip's prongs from the column. The chain sailed and fell behind her as she turned to face him. Itri had the pistol drawn, the barrel-shaped as the Fool's head pointed at her. "You think that bullet could travel quick enough before my tip found you?" She asked, her eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess for my sake I better hope so." He squeezed the trigger before she could carry her threat. There was a jerk of the ivory pistol followed by a puff of gray smoke. As the fog cleared he saw a flag had sprung from the pistol. The cloth was was red with words in white: BANG! "Heh... the Fool's gift mocks you," The Handmaid laughed once... then twice. Then she burst into laughter, her long hair whipped behind her as she continued to laugh. At first, the laugh had sound forced, urged on by her contempt for Itri the Fool's Champion. But as she continued he found her laugh had turned genuine and then maddening, a constant guffaw that reverberated and echoed off the walls until it was not only her laugh but the laugh of hundreds. It was a laughter of contempt, but Itri found it was no longer laughter at him, but laughter at the entire bloody spectacle that had filled the arena. When it all ended, it ended in a few errant giggles as she lowered her head and he saw blood run down her nose and in her eyes. "Heh..." was the Empress' Handmaiden's last word before she pitched forward and landed hard on the stone ground. Itri stood alone. He looked above to see the assemblage of the Gods who had begun to clap for him.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	“........... A musket.” I muttered slightly annoyed “You’ve been given a great power.” Said this odd somewhat feeble old man of a god. He said it as if he was parting wisdom but I’m still filled with hollow hope and trembling with dread. I believed in maybe a god and pretended to know a few others out of respect or avoiding awkward confrontations, but this guy? With a name like Tempus you’d think I’d get something more powerful or at least cool looking. Now I just get to die with an antique given to me by, well...... an antique of a man. No magic, no added strength, not even speed to runaway, just a musket. I had fired a musket before, sure, but it was just to fend off wolves on my uncles farm a few times. Mother hated violence and was livid when she found out, so my few months of practice ended years ago with a harsh grounding. “And when is this tournament?” I asked with great grief . With an almost smug grin he immediately replied, “4 hours, 16 minutes, and 33 seconds.” As if it was common knowledge. “Can I at least practice?” He handed me a bag full of gunpowder and another with bullets. “Of course! Be wary though, as you only have 4 hours, 15 minutes, and 17 seconds left to do so.” My eyes almost rolled so far back into my head I thought I was about to read my own mind. “Practice hard, Champion. You may only get one shot.” He added as I swung the musket over my shoulder to go practice. It wasn’t hard to brush up my skills but I eventually had to take care with my shots, as I started to run out of ammunition. Blasting apples out of trees seemed harmless and a hard enough target. The old man appeared before me right after I spent the last blast on some low hanging fruit. “It’s time!” He shouted holding a finger in the air. “Watch it! I don’t want to get in trouble for shooting a god in the face! A second sooner and I might’ve made my shot! Plus, plus, my apple did I hit the-.” “Of course, Champion! See for yourself!” He gleefully waved his hand to show what was an obliterated apple barely hanging by it’s stem. I caught my breath, now slightly embarrassed I replied, “Oh, hey sorry abo-“ He interrupted me again. “ No time, no time, here is your ammunition and we’re off to the challenge!” Before I could even get another word in he snapped and I was all of a sudden behind a barred gate on the edge of a massive coliseum. Thunderous roars of people and otherworldly beings in the stands almost made it impossible to gather my thoughts and calm down. The heat of the sun cast intense shadows and kicked up hot sand. I tried my best to stare across the way. Sizing up just the few contenders I could see from where I stood I knew I was screwed. There was a man with a fiery rage in his eyes, or maybe it actually was fire, wearing nothing but his rage and a loincloth. Another cage had some monstrous four legged being with tentacles for a face. I couldn’t decide if it’d be more painful to be hit by it or be turned into whatever that thing was. To my shock, his neighbor appeared to be dead in the next gate over. What I assumed used to be a giant was now more of a contorted flesh made rag you’d use to mop up blood. I take it his god didn’t take these small spaces cells into account so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. With thunder and a lightning strike made of every shade of color I’ve seen before hitting center arena, the gates lifted. I panicked and hid in the shadow of my cell. I was so preoccupied with my situation I hadn’t even loaded the musket. I open my bags and- WHAT, one bullet!? This has to be a mistake, this has to be a mistake! Whatever, I loaded it and was pretty prepared to use it on myself but hey, let’s at least watch this fight first. Shrieks of pain, rain of blood splatters, metal clanging, roars of elements shooting across sides of the arena. I didn’t stand a chance, bodies were almost in huge piles now and I wasn’t eager to be added to the list. “How many gods are there?” I muttered to myself. With just a few minutes there was almost silence again. I suddenly heard the roar of the man with fire in his eyes as he hurled flames in all directions. There were a few other champions still alive but surely about to die from intense burns. The tentacled....... dog..... thing, well it didn’t seem phased at all as it leaped to the chest of the fiery man. Things were getting reckless and I was afraid of getting hit with a loose fireball. I’d like to at least not die at the starting line. I crawled my way under a pile of bodies and beings near the center of the arena. I figured this would be the last place anyone would look. As I peered out from the limbs I could see the fight taking place again. The tentacle dog had a good grip on the fiery man’s throat now, he was finally losing blood. Then a nasty rip sound cut through the air, the fiery man had used what must’ve been pure adrenaline and rage to rip the tentacle dog in half. His eyes blared with flames as he walked my way with slow stomps of bloodlust. It was as if he was staring right at me. I twisted and fumbled around for my musket readying the weapon to fire when- THUMP. I flinched with my eyes closed sure that he had found me in the pile. Another THUMP and a tentacles came down from the top of the pile hanging into my face. I wanted to scream but the air had left my lungs. The stomps slowly distances theirselves in sound. I looked through the limbs again to catch a glimpse of death before it took me and I saw the fiery man with a fist in the air looking at the crowds in the stands. They stood patiently quiet, almost horrified, yet no cheer. This obviously drove the fiery man wild as he started to scream and roar at them like in animal pumping his blood soaked fist in the air for validation. This is it, he hasn’t won yet, this is obviously a battle to the death and one contender remains, me. I caught my breath and steadied my barrel. The hot sand was blowing into my eyes so I adjusted the limbs for coverage in my hiding hole of gore. I waited to get a glimpse in the small sandstorm of his rage. I need something to aim for, yet he moved about yelling at his audience in fury. Then his gaze shot over me at the judging beings in the stands behind me and that’s when I saw it, my shot. His eyes flaming a yellowish orange like ripening apples, I caught my breath and let loose my best aimed shot ever. BANG I looked for my target and it was gone, his head, gone. Silence lasted as the fiery man’s body fell to its knees until finally going limp to the ground. Cheer bursted from every angle and shook the ground I laid on. I arose from the pile of death and raised my musket with pride now. Clapping soon followed the cheer as I assume they were impressed just as I was at me being alive. Then I was suddenly standing before the old man by the apple tree looking like a gloating fool, but I didn’t care, I felt more alive then ever. “Well done champion!” His voice rang with pride and I was not as annoyed to hear him this time. “Did I do it? Am I a god now!?” I blurted barely containing myself. “Of course! Why do you think they were cheering?” He asked in that smug way old men speak. “I just, I just didn’t think I’d make it. I mean all I had is this musket. How did, how did you know?” I asked in a prying manner. “I didn’t, that’s all I could conjure. I’m pretty preoccupied with a the times and I knew you had fired a musket before. Plus you’re a decent man compared to the bandits and warriors who were on that battlefield.” He ended his sentence with a warming smile. I didn’t know what to say, “Thanks?” He patted me on the back,” No boy, thank you. You e made me proud and assured no monster would take place in our pantheon. Plus, I get to show them all that old man time is nothing to be laughed at.” I was surprised at his reply and still slightly confused. I pressed further, “Wait, you have the power of time and you gave me a musket and one bullet? Wha- how- are you crazy or just plain mean?” He smirked, “Dear boy, don’t you know Tempus stands for time? You have the powers of time yourself, I just need you to use it right. I couldn’t give you a bunch of bullets to go willy nilly shooting in everything that moved. I needed you to be sure, so that you’d use your power of time.” Still confused I asked, “What power of time do I have?” He smiled at me, reminded me of grandfather in this light, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Timing boy, good timing”	Within the warm brown hand of Itri, the weapon was the most damnedest thing he saw. His patron had slipped it into his hand when it was his turned to be acknowledged at the trial of the twenty-two. Out of all the weapons Itri had seen, the fool's felt so inadequate against them. He had seen curved swords with serrated edges and runes of flame that burned down the center of the black metal. He had seen long chain whips with prongs that could punch through armor and which lightning would ride down the length so that if the puncture did not kill a man, the electricity would finish them off. He tilted the pistol, he admitted, even though it was not the most opportune moment to appraise the artifact granted to him by a god, the pistol looked great. The frame of the gun was carved out of smooth ivory that secured a dark gray barrel to the pistol. Near the end of the metal tube, where the breach and the touch hole were located, gold leaf decorated the metal in a flowery pattern. The end of the barrel was not shaped like a normal pistol, it had no rounded end. Instead, the barrel had been shaped to the face of a man with a wide-open maw in which hell could erupt from. By Itri's reckoning whatever destruction it could wreak paled as a streak of blue lit up his face. He could hear the cry of a man struck by the Empress' Handmaiden, the woman with the whip. He blinked and looked up across the field of battle to see she had slain the Emperor's man, the one with the mace. Itri recalled that if that mace had even touched a subject, their bones would turn to dust. He had to congratulate the smart move on the Handmaiden, she dealt with the threat quick. The other bodies had littered the arena. Quite the spectacle, Itri had to agree from where he stood in the corner. All twenty-two were to be joined in a battle, but he noticed most had gone after each other. Eager to bring down the greater threats before turning on the Fool's man with his little pistol. Itri had to thank the Handmaiden and the way she brought the whip down. She had actually killed the Tower's spearman as he sized up Itri for the kill. What did the Tower's spear even do? Itri thought. He imagined it did something better than his pistol. He jerked his head up as he heard the soft whistle overhead. The prongs of the Handmaid's whip lashed out towards him. If he had not jumped behind the column it may have been all over. The prongs buried themselves deep into the dark green marble. He could hear the clink of chains as she tried to extract the barbed end. "Uhm... would... would you take my surrender?" Itri asked. "I would. Just kneel before me and I'll make it quick." The Handmaid said after she grunted and pulled at the chain. "I would have preferred that I survive my surrender," He stepped around. Her hair was a mound of curled brunette against the soft fawn-skin. With a sudden jerk, she had pulled the whip's prongs from the column. The chain sailed and fell behind her as she turned to face him. Itri had the pistol drawn, the barrel-shaped as the Fool's head pointed at her. "You think that bullet could travel quick enough before my tip found you?" She asked, her eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess for my sake I better hope so." He squeezed the trigger before she could carry her threat. There was a jerk of the ivory pistol followed by a puff of gray smoke. As the fog cleared he saw a flag had sprung from the pistol. The cloth was was red with words in white: BANG! "Heh... the Fool's gift mocks you," The Handmaid laughed once... then twice. Then she burst into laughter, her long hair whipped behind her as she continued to laugh. At first, the laugh had sound forced, urged on by her contempt for Itri the Fool's Champion. But as she continued he found her laugh had turned genuine and then maddening, a constant guffaw that reverberated and echoed off the walls until it was not only her laugh but the laugh of hundreds. It was a laughter of contempt, but Itri found it was no longer laughter at him, but laughter at the entire bloody spectacle that had filled the arena. When it all ended, it ended in a few errant giggles as she lowered her head and he saw blood run down her nose and in her eyes. "Heh..." was the Empress' Handmaiden's last word before she pitched forward and landed hard on the stone ground. Itri stood alone. He looked above to see the assemblage of the Gods who had begun to clap for him.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I blink. What the fuck just happened? One minute I'm laying in bed, catching up on some youtube videos - and suddenly I'm not anymore... I'm on a couch? It didn't feel like I moved, like anything happened at all, I just suddenly am here now. Everything has a weird kind of feeling to it, it's hard to describe, almost like an aura you could almost see - it just feels off. But, this looks like a normal enough living room. The carpets are nice, this couch is comfortable... There's a man sitting in that recliner over there, is he watching TV? "Hello?" He looks over my way slowly, his slender pale face looked quizzical at first, then his eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah, that was today - right..." He let out an audible sigh and the television went dark in front of him. I just realized, I'm still just in a pair of boxers... not even the kind with a button, stupid open flap ones. He motions to the end of the couch I'm on as his chair turns toward me. "You'll probably need to learn how to shoot that" a gun that resembles a musket is seated next to me, it's got one of those cheap bows from walmart stuck to it - even has the price tag still on the base. 39 cents? How long has that bow been sitting around for? "Uhhh, can I ask why" I'm not so sure I want to know though. "Well, one of the gods has decided he was done and just up and left. Now we gotta have this big battle to see which mortal is suited to become the next god, yadda yadda" "Wait, hold on... no really, yadda yadda? I'm gonna fight against people and it's a 'yadda yadda?' "Well, they don't call me the god of Laziness for nothing" Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into? "God of Laziness?" "Present" "... Okay, first question - why me? "Oh, well a lot of the other gods spent time searching the earth for someone who was suited - someone who would rise to the occasion, painstakingly checking every single... Oh god that just sounded so BORING. I picked you out of a hat." "What?" ...WHAT!?! "I'm kidding! Actually it's a bit much to describe, but I developed a way to speak to the earth itself and listen to what she has to say. It's really handy for when you don't want to do anything but need to know about things on earth" "... are you joking again, orrrr" "Nope, took me 20 years to figure out a way, but it has saved me countless hours since" ...Isn't that kind of amazing in it's own way? I guess that's why he's the GOD of laziness He smiled a bit "She said you were the person I'd get along with best, which is great because the only guy I even liked up here just up and left his seat." "Who was that anyway?" "God of Sex, dude was a FREAK - but he just was too much to handle" Wait, does that mean... "So, I could be the next God of Sex?" He laughed... a lot... and just when he was winding it down, he looked back up at me and he just started laughing even harder. "So, what kind of god would I become?" I asked once he finally quieted down a bit. "I actually don't know," He shrugged slightly "You just kind of know when it happens" That... is not reassuring. "My weapon is a gun, I assume the fights are to the death?" "You assume correctly" "And, can I assume that you all being gods will either protect us or resurrect anyone who dies?" "You don't assume quite as correctly on that one" Ah fuck... "There is some worse news," he continued "I'm kind of bottom of the totem pole up here - so I can't really grant you any 'powers' like superhuman strength, or anything good really... I mean I kind of even had the weapon over there for you on 'auto pick' because I was choosing last and Artemis took for fucking EVER" "Auto pick?" "Yeah, I won't go into details, but basically I let the earth choose the weapon then used a 'stand in' to actually pick it. I came back to watch some more anime" ... I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die fucking horribly, this is awesome. "So, wait a minute - earth chose this for me?" I looked at the gun, it really looks like a musket... "She said something about some of the most lopsided wars in terms of casualties were fought when one side had this weapon" "That sounds like some REALLY flimsy logic" "Yeah, I probably should have been there. Could have at least taken the gist of the advice and gotten you a more modern gun - but hey what can you do? Half these dolts chose to have their 'champions' wield spears and shit, in this day and age. My money is on the Goddess of self-importance, she got a trained hitman - and apparently chose an AR-15 as his weapon. I mean, she may be in the same boat as me in terms of bestowing powers - but she really put some effort into this" I really wish I was back home. "Ah, but don't worry too much. I have a plan, I mean I REALLY do want someone up here who gets me - and Earth said you were a cool dude so I put some effort into this" "And that plan is?" "...Wouldn't you rather get dressed first?" --- After getting dressed and spending a little time in the 'killing fields' learning how to load and fire the musket, I came to the realization that this 'weapon' is definitely going to get me killed... He spent some time explaining the 'plan' - or half-explaining, difficult questions often answered with "Wing it!"... This only reassured me that I am totally screwed. We went back to his house and I found myself in thought, sitting at a table, much too long of one - this thing must be 40 feet long... and this room - the dining room, why is this room so much more elegant than the rest of his house? "I see you are admiring the tasteful decor, yeah I hate it." "... Then why don't you change it?" He just smiled and nodded as he reached for the hot pocket in front of him... I might not have even assumed whatever he was eating was a hot-pocket... but it's resting on the box, he's using the box as a plate... "OH!" he exclaimed, with a mouth full of hotpocket "I almost forgot, the name is John" "... I'm Mark - Mark Jacobs... I'm sure you knew that though... Do you gods have last names?" "Nope, I'm just John. Always has been that way" "I'm not gonna question it, I'm sure you chose that name with great care" "I uh, I don't even remember. It's been so long. At first they had me running this place, let me tell you that was a mess... I don't even want to get into it. But a couple years back I turned that over to some new guy who seemed promising, he left sometime after that though and it's changed hands once or twice. It's too bad, I really liked that guy, went by 'Zeus' I think..." ... I just heard something very troubling. "You used to run... Heaven? ... what do you call this place?" "Close enough, but like I said - I don't want to get into it." "But c'mon, you used to RUN the place, you have to have some special powers or something right? How did you go from-" "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" his eyes took a serious look Oops, hit a nerve... better back it off a bit "Okay, I'm sorry John. You're right, let's just focus on the task at hand" I looked down at the gun I had now resting against my chair, and then forward to the hot pocket John had made for me, it was resting on a paper towel folded over a couple times - the grease soaking through the first layer entirely. I didn't feel so good - eating was definitely out of the question "So, it's a Battle Royale style fight?" "Yeah, Artemis was so insistent on that - she apparently went and saw The Hunger Games in theaters - she's been obsessed since" Of course. "I play a bit of PUBG so the idea has grown on me" And of course. "I know we went over the plan before, like half-assedly glazed over it, but how long will I have to wait? When does the fight begin?" He slowly turned his head toward the clock on the wall. "Well as for how long you have to wait, I packed some provisions in the bag - should make it pass in no time. And for when the fight starts - we got 3 minutes yet" "... I really hope that's another joke" "Yeah, it was" he smiled "It's time now." And again, I'm just here. At least this time, I know where I am. The trees, that river, I'm 350 out from my target area. Time for a hike I guess. I was going to have to make my way along this river, but I stopped to check the bag to see what 'provisions' John had packed for me Backpack contents: Beef Jerky, one pack Water canteen, filled with mountain dew for some reason The 'secret weapon'... Tissues, one box Lotion, one bottle Porno Mags... like 20, seriously most of the weight of this damned bag was paper! I am not going to spend my time like that. Besides, this area is actually tiny, I can't imagine that the wait will be that long. I'd better get to the spot and get deployed. --- (cont.)	Cameron stared at the musket dangling on a string of gold. It was almost entirely wood, save for a few strips of shiny silver. Two cartoony, golden, almost plastic angel wings were attached near the barrel, like something from a children's toy. She - her name, confusingly - pranced over to the gun, her hazy silhouette bobbing up and down. She, her face manifested as a minimalistic outline, gave Cameron a smile. "Thoughts?" "It, um, what is it?" "Your weapon!" She declared, smile forced wider. "A musket?" Cameron glanced between She and her weapon. "Brandon was bragging about superspeed. Airi can make force fields-" "Well we're on a budget." She grabbed the musket and thrust it into Cameron's arms. "How am I supposed to-" "Hold on, almost forgot the string," She said, snapping her fingers. The golden string unwound from the wooden beam above. A moment later, it whirled around the musket's wings, outlining the feathers. "Looks much better now, eh?" Cameron bit his lower lip. "Yep, way better." "Fantastic, I'm so glad you like it," She said. "Do you know how to shoot a musket?" "I'm a carpenter." "Yeah, yeah, but you could've had, like, a sharpshooting hobby, right?" "No." "Excellent." She paused. "Okay, Cameron, I'm gonna need you to trust me." "Sure." As if he had a choice. "Okay, so, I don't have a gun you can practice with." "Right," Cameron said. "And you can't practice with the musket." "Can't practice with-" Cameron fiddled with his words. "I don't know how to shoot a gun. Aren't-" He paused. "Aren't muskets even more difficult to use than normal?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, definitely. But, um, well you should be fine," She said. "That string is lucky, understand? It'll help you out. Definitely. I spent all my Divinity on it, so it ought to be high quality." Cameron gripped the musket. "Don't worry, it's not like you'll die," She said, waving her hand. "Just pull the trigger once and BAM, you'll win in a jiffy." \# Brandon ran circles around the arena, only visible through brief flashes of light. Much to his sponsor's annoyance, he had decided taunting his enemies was more productive than ending the fight in a moment. "Come on, shoot me! Try it!" Brandon said, laughing. His silhouette flashed around as Cameron tried to take aim. "Just fire!" She called from the side. "Oh, forget it," Cameron muttered. He pulled the trigger, aiming where he last saw Brandon's flash. There was no thunder, bang, or fizz. The wings merely fluttered for a moment before falling off. Brandon stopped to laugh. Cameron glanced at his opponent's sponsor, Orthun. He looked dead serious. "YES!" She cried. Cameron looked to her, finding that she was jumping and waving her arms around, or at least as well as a humanoid haze could. "YES, YES, YES!!" There was a fizz and a pop. A cool breeze brushed against Cameron's right cheek. The wings floated up, then dissolved into black dust. The lights around the arena dimmed. Dirt and dust slowly swirled around Cameron in organized streams, weaving into a cloth-like substance. Frail hands grasped Cameron's shoulders. They were warm, almost comforting. However, Cameron found himself frozen, staring at the wretched, curved blade stuck in the ground in front of him. Its blade was polished, almost reflective as a mirror. Brandon stepped back, afraid. Orthun sighed and shook his head. "HIGH QUALITY!" She shouted, almost taunting, toward Orthun. "Mm, a succession contest?" a terribly bored voice sounded out. "I was called out for this? Oh, how annoying." A frail hand left Cameron's shoulders and snapped its fingers. Brandon turned pale and collapsed. The world blurred for a moment, And Cameron felt dizzy as the Being behind him returned to dirt. Orthun strolled over, slowly clapping. A woman blinked into existence next to Cameron, petite and terribly pale. Her face was freckled and round, and her dress rippled off her into streams of ethereal mist. "See, see, I told you to trust me!" the woman said. Cameron raised an eyebrow. "She?" "No, no," the woman said, waving her hand. "I'm Sheriliaa!" She threw her arm around his shoulders. "I've got a name now because of you! And a body! Oooh, it was worth saving up all those centuries. My candidate finally won!" "Oh, um, oh..." Cameron fell to his knees, head spinning. "I'll be your advisor! Aren't you excited? I can't wait!" "Oh good..." Cameron murmured, fading into unconsciousness. \# Wrote right before bed, sorry for lack of detail.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	“........... A musket.” I muttered slightly annoyed “You’ve been given a great power.” Said this odd somewhat feeble old man of a god. He said it as if he was parting wisdom but I’m still filled with hollow hope and trembling with dread. I believed in maybe a god and pretended to know a few others out of respect or avoiding awkward confrontations, but this guy? With a name like Tempus you’d think I’d get something more powerful or at least cool looking. Now I just get to die with an antique given to me by, well...... an antique of a man. No magic, no added strength, not even speed to runaway, just a musket. I had fired a musket before, sure, but it was just to fend off wolves on my uncles farm a few times. Mother hated violence and was livid when she found out, so my few months of practice ended years ago with a harsh grounding. “And when is this tournament?” I asked with great grief . With an almost smug grin he immediately replied, “4 hours, 16 minutes, and 33 seconds.” As if it was common knowledge. “Can I at least practice?” He handed me a bag full of gunpowder and another with bullets. “Of course! Be wary though, as you only have 4 hours, 15 minutes, and 17 seconds left to do so.” My eyes almost rolled so far back into my head I thought I was about to read my own mind. “Practice hard, Champion. You may only get one shot.” He added as I swung the musket over my shoulder to go practice. It wasn’t hard to brush up my skills but I eventually had to take care with my shots, as I started to run out of ammunition. Blasting apples out of trees seemed harmless and a hard enough target. The old man appeared before me right after I spent the last blast on some low hanging fruit. “It’s time!” He shouted holding a finger in the air. “Watch it! I don’t want to get in trouble for shooting a god in the face! A second sooner and I might’ve made my shot! Plus, plus, my apple did I hit the-.” “Of course, Champion! See for yourself!” He gleefully waved his hand to show what was an obliterated apple barely hanging by it’s stem. I caught my breath, now slightly embarrassed I replied, “Oh, hey sorry abo-“ He interrupted me again. “ No time, no time, here is your ammunition and we’re off to the challenge!” Before I could even get another word in he snapped and I was all of a sudden behind a barred gate on the edge of a massive coliseum. Thunderous roars of people and otherworldly beings in the stands almost made it impossible to gather my thoughts and calm down. The heat of the sun cast intense shadows and kicked up hot sand. I tried my best to stare across the way. Sizing up just the few contenders I could see from where I stood I knew I was screwed. There was a man with a fiery rage in his eyes, or maybe it actually was fire, wearing nothing but his rage and a loincloth. Another cage had some monstrous four legged being with tentacles for a face. I couldn’t decide if it’d be more painful to be hit by it or be turned into whatever that thing was. To my shock, his neighbor appeared to be dead in the next gate over. What I assumed used to be a giant was now more of a contorted flesh made rag you’d use to mop up blood. I take it his god didn’t take these small spaces cells into account so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. With thunder and a lightning strike made of every shade of color I’ve seen before hitting center arena, the gates lifted. I panicked and hid in the shadow of my cell. I was so preoccupied with my situation I hadn’t even loaded the musket. I open my bags and- WHAT, one bullet!? This has to be a mistake, this has to be a mistake! Whatever, I loaded it and was pretty prepared to use it on myself but hey, let’s at least watch this fight first. Shrieks of pain, rain of blood splatters, metal clanging, roars of elements shooting across sides of the arena. I didn’t stand a chance, bodies were almost in huge piles now and I wasn’t eager to be added to the list. “How many gods are there?” I muttered to myself. With just a few minutes there was almost silence again. I suddenly heard the roar of the man with fire in his eyes as he hurled flames in all directions. There were a few other champions still alive but surely about to die from intense burns. The tentacled....... dog..... thing, well it didn’t seem phased at all as it leaped to the chest of the fiery man. Things were getting reckless and I was afraid of getting hit with a loose fireball. I’d like to at least not die at the starting line. I crawled my way under a pile of bodies and beings near the center of the arena. I figured this would be the last place anyone would look. As I peered out from the limbs I could see the fight taking place again. The tentacle dog had a good grip on the fiery man’s throat now, he was finally losing blood. Then a nasty rip sound cut through the air, the fiery man had used what must’ve been pure adrenaline and rage to rip the tentacle dog in half. His eyes blared with flames as he walked my way with slow stomps of bloodlust. It was as if he was staring right at me. I twisted and fumbled around for my musket readying the weapon to fire when- THUMP. I flinched with my eyes closed sure that he had found me in the pile. Another THUMP and a tentacles came down from the top of the pile hanging into my face. I wanted to scream but the air had left my lungs. The stomps slowly distances theirselves in sound. I looked through the limbs again to catch a glimpse of death before it took me and I saw the fiery man with a fist in the air looking at the crowds in the stands. They stood patiently quiet, almost horrified, yet no cheer. This obviously drove the fiery man wild as he started to scream and roar at them like in animal pumping his blood soaked fist in the air for validation. This is it, he hasn’t won yet, this is obviously a battle to the death and one contender remains, me. I caught my breath and steadied my barrel. The hot sand was blowing into my eyes so I adjusted the limbs for coverage in my hiding hole of gore. I waited to get a glimpse in the small sandstorm of his rage. I need something to aim for, yet he moved about yelling at his audience in fury. Then his gaze shot over me at the judging beings in the stands behind me and that’s when I saw it, my shot. His eyes flaming a yellowish orange like ripening apples, I caught my breath and let loose my best aimed shot ever. BANG I looked for my target and it was gone, his head, gone. Silence lasted as the fiery man’s body fell to its knees until finally going limp to the ground. Cheer bursted from every angle and shook the ground I laid on. I arose from the pile of death and raised my musket with pride now. Clapping soon followed the cheer as I assume they were impressed just as I was at me being alive. Then I was suddenly standing before the old man by the apple tree looking like a gloating fool, but I didn’t care, I felt more alive then ever. “Well done champion!” His voice rang with pride and I was not as annoyed to hear him this time. “Did I do it? Am I a god now!?” I blurted barely containing myself. “Of course! Why do you think they were cheering?” He asked in that smug way old men speak. “I just, I just didn’t think I’d make it. I mean all I had is this musket. How did, how did you know?” I asked in a prying manner. “I didn’t, that’s all I could conjure. I’m pretty preoccupied with a the times and I knew you had fired a musket before. Plus you’re a decent man compared to the bandits and warriors who were on that battlefield.” He ended his sentence with a warming smile. I didn’t know what to say, “Thanks?” He patted me on the back,” No boy, thank you. You e made me proud and assured no monster would take place in our pantheon. Plus, I get to show them all that old man time is nothing to be laughed at.” I was surprised at his reply and still slightly confused. I pressed further, “Wait, you have the power of time and you gave me a musket and one bullet? Wha- how- are you crazy or just plain mean?” He smirked, “Dear boy, don’t you know Tempus stands for time? You have the powers of time yourself, I just need you to use it right. I couldn’t give you a bunch of bullets to go willy nilly shooting in everything that moved. I needed you to be sure, so that you’d use your power of time.” Still confused I asked, “What power of time do I have?” He smiled at me, reminded me of grandfather in this light, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Timing boy, good timing”	Cameron stared at the musket dangling on a string of gold. It was almost entirely wood, save for a few strips of shiny silver. Two cartoony, golden, almost plastic angel wings were attached near the barrel, like something from a children's toy. She - her name, confusingly - pranced over to the gun, her hazy silhouette bobbing up and down. She, her face manifested as a minimalistic outline, gave Cameron a smile. "Thoughts?" "It, um, what is it?" "Your weapon!" She declared, smile forced wider. "A musket?" Cameron glanced between She and her weapon. "Brandon was bragging about superspeed. Airi can make force fields-" "Well we're on a budget." She grabbed the musket and thrust it into Cameron's arms. "How am I supposed to-" "Hold on, almost forgot the string," She said, snapping her fingers. The golden string unwound from the wooden beam above. A moment later, it whirled around the musket's wings, outlining the feathers. "Looks much better now, eh?" Cameron bit his lower lip. "Yep, way better." "Fantastic, I'm so glad you like it," She said. "Do you know how to shoot a musket?" "I'm a carpenter." "Yeah, yeah, but you could've had, like, a sharpshooting hobby, right?" "No." "Excellent." She paused. "Okay, Cameron, I'm gonna need you to trust me." "Sure." As if he had a choice. "Okay, so, I don't have a gun you can practice with." "Right," Cameron said. "And you can't practice with the musket." "Can't practice with-" Cameron fiddled with his words. "I don't know how to shoot a gun. Aren't-" He paused. "Aren't muskets even more difficult to use than normal?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, definitely. But, um, well you should be fine," She said. "That string is lucky, understand? It'll help you out. Definitely. I spent all my Divinity on it, so it ought to be high quality." Cameron gripped the musket. "Don't worry, it's not like you'll die," She said, waving her hand. "Just pull the trigger once and BAM, you'll win in a jiffy." \# Brandon ran circles around the arena, only visible through brief flashes of light. Much to his sponsor's annoyance, he had decided taunting his enemies was more productive than ending the fight in a moment. "Come on, shoot me! Try it!" Brandon said, laughing. His silhouette flashed around as Cameron tried to take aim. "Just fire!" She called from the side. "Oh, forget it," Cameron muttered. He pulled the trigger, aiming where he last saw Brandon's flash. There was no thunder, bang, or fizz. The wings merely fluttered for a moment before falling off. Brandon stopped to laugh. Cameron glanced at his opponent's sponsor, Orthun. He looked dead serious. "YES!" She cried. Cameron looked to her, finding that she was jumping and waving her arms around, or at least as well as a humanoid haze could. "YES, YES, YES!!" There was a fizz and a pop. A cool breeze brushed against Cameron's right cheek. The wings floated up, then dissolved into black dust. The lights around the arena dimmed. Dirt and dust slowly swirled around Cameron in organized streams, weaving into a cloth-like substance. Frail hands grasped Cameron's shoulders. They were warm, almost comforting. However, Cameron found himself frozen, staring at the wretched, curved blade stuck in the ground in front of him. Its blade was polished, almost reflective as a mirror. Brandon stepped back, afraid. Orthun sighed and shook his head. "HIGH QUALITY!" She shouted, almost taunting, toward Orthun. "Mm, a succession contest?" a terribly bored voice sounded out. "I was called out for this? Oh, how annoying." A frail hand left Cameron's shoulders and snapped its fingers. Brandon turned pale and collapsed. The world blurred for a moment, And Cameron felt dizzy as the Being behind him returned to dirt. Orthun strolled over, slowly clapping. A woman blinked into existence next to Cameron, petite and terribly pale. Her face was freckled and round, and her dress rippled off her into streams of ethereal mist. "See, see, I told you to trust me!" the woman said. Cameron raised an eyebrow. "She?" "No, no," the woman said, waving her hand. "I'm Sheriliaa!" She threw her arm around his shoulders. "I've got a name now because of you! And a body! Oooh, it was worth saving up all those centuries. My candidate finally won!" "Oh, um, oh..." Cameron fell to his knees, head spinning. "I'll be your advisor! Aren't you excited? I can't wait!" "Oh good..." Cameron murmured, fading into unconsciousness. \# Wrote right before bed, sorry for lack of detail.
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	I'm going to die. Wait no, sorry. I'm going to die, horribly. Raucous cheering filled the darkness as the wall in front of me shifted with a loud crunch. The floor beneath trembled as the gap widened, light filtering onto my feet. My heart raced. I couldn't breath. "This is not the time to have a panic attack!" I hissed, slapping myself in the face. The sting was comforting, but I was still terrified. I'd always wondered what people meant when they said their legs were like jelly, but now I knew exactly. It was as if someone had liquidised every structural component in my body from the waist down. I lent my shoulder on the wall for support, my fingers clenching the weapon in my hands. The light was up to my chest now. My knuckles were pulled tight, the white of bone translucent through my skin. "Twenty seconds until we release our brave fighters!" The crowd cheered wildly again. The lump in my throat became persistent. I swallowed until my mouth was arid. "Ten seconds!" The light shone onto my chin. My fingers burned where I'd been clutching the musket. Resigned, I hoisted the butt to my shoulder, cracking my neck. "Five!" My palms began to sweat. "Four!" I could see into the arena now, but an invisible force kept me from stepping forward. "Three!" It was your typical coliseum. A large pit of sand, surrounded by rows and rows of fat wealthy cats, cheering on whoever they'd put their money on. "Two!" Disgusted, I pulled up the barrel, cocking the gun. "One!" Adrenaline shot through me like lightning. I was scared. I felt sick. I was fuming. "Let the battle commence!" Lightning broke the sky as my enemies poured into the arena. They were all... huge. My stomach dropped. Somewhere across the arena, a man who looked half-human, half-titan, summoned a colossal ball of fire, sending it careening towards another. I heard his screams as he burnt alive. Distracted, I felt something heavy swing by my ear. I jumped backwards from it, aiming my gun at my assailant. Pain tore through my head and I gasped, biting down on my tongue to keep my concentration."Another addition to my collection." The barbarian had a wicked smile as she bent down to retrieve- wait, was that... I almost threw up on the spot. Smugness exuded from her as she hooked my ear onto the chain around her neck, surrounded by a couple of dozen others. "You know, you should have really been paying more attention if you wanted any hope of winning." Her laugh was abrasive. I gritted my teeth, taking aim. Finger on the trigger, I twitched. &#x200B; pew &#x200B; My mouth dropped open in exasperation. Instead of a bullet, a tiny white flag popped out the barrel of the musket. The barbarian raised an eyebrow, focus flicking between me and the fabric, flapping in the wind. She snorted. Then roared. Within a matter of seconds it became a full belly laugh, the warrior collapsed onto the floor. I couldn't move. Out of shock, pain or confusion, I wasn't sure, but my body wasn't obeying me. I could merely watch as she cackled away to herself. "I... I can't-" She spluttered between giggles, face turning blue. But it didn't sound right. The barbarians hands scrabbled at her neck, her attempts at sucking in air dashed by the constant laughter. "Help." She went limp, her last guffaw rattling. Blood oozed from a large gash in her side, staining the animal fur she'd worn around her waist. I blinked, shaking my head. And again. The flag had retracted back into the gun. I wondered if I'd just imagined this whole scenario as she'd meticulously dismembered my body. Commotion dragged my attention back to the rest of the arena. "Amazing! Zelkah's conjuring another spirit beast; place your bets on what this one will be guys! My money's on a Void Goat!" The announcer boomed over the speakers. The giant human from earlier was now surrounded by an entourage of disembodied creatures, varying from weasels to rhinos. The lump in my throat came back. I tried to swallow but my mouth was still barren. The barrel of the musket glinted in the light of the four suns as I aimed it at him. &#x200B; \* \* \* "Literally splitting people's sides with laughter? Really?" My god grinned at me, displayed rows of perfect teeth. "You had no faith in me kiddo." He jabbed a finger into my chest, eyes soft like honey. "But I had faith in you. Shame about the ear." A plain silver pendant, materialised in front me me, bobbing softly in midair. "Congratulations." My fingers wound around the item, beaming at the deity. "Thanks, Loki."	In my hands is a rusty musket, and surrounding me are incredible battles. Everyone’s fighting for the throne, flying around the room or slashing at each other with laser swords. Their gods gifted them incredible powers, while mine gifted me…this. Someone runs by me, chuckling. Nobody thinks I’m a threat. When we were given these yesterday, everyone laughed at me. I’m just a scrawny band kid to them. I wonder why this god even picked me, of all people. There are superstar athletes and big time actors here. So why me? I’m a wasted vote. Only thing I can do is play trumpet. You only are if you choose to be. “What does that mean?” Be yourself. Before I can reply, a fist slams into the ground, sending me flying back. When I climb to my feet, there’s a girl standing in front of me wearing comically large boxing gloves, rearing one back. “Bye bye, sucka!” I dodge and take off running. She chases me. I clutch the musket, holding it tight to my stomach. How could I possibly use this? Be yourself. Show them your passion. I duck away from another punch, and another. Turning a corner, I reach a dead end, walls on either side of me. She’s getting closer and closer, shadow consuming me. Be myself, be myself. But what does that mean? My eyes scan the musket. Only now, stuck in danger, do I see it. The odd shape is purposeful, because it’s not a musket at all. No, not even close. It’s my passion, the only thing I’m truly good at. It’s a trumpet. “Time to die!” Pressing it to my lips, I whirl around, facing the girl. As I blow air into it, the thing transforms into a beautiful, golden trumpet, and the notes literally dance out of it, happy and colorful. They circle around her, and she immediately stops, captured by the music. A second later, she’s sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth. The hardest battles are won not by strength, but by skill. You’ve spent years mastering this, spent years training your mind to make others happy—while the others were simply given their talents. The walls fade, and when I look around, everyone’s sitting down, rocking back and forth. They love my music, which makes me smile. I actually…I actually did it! In front of me, the sky opens, and a staircase lowers out of it. There’s a throne sitting at the top. Does this mean…did I…am I… You will make a great god. And with that, I ascend the stairs. *** I hope this turned out okay! Thanks for the prompt. If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.	"You'll do fine," Orixia assured him. "But all you gave me is this stupid antique!" "That 'stupid antique,'" his sponsor retorted, "is a genuine Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. In its time, it was prized for its range, its accuracy, and its reliability." "Great! But all the other competitors are going to have every superpower in the book! This is horseshit compared to what I'll be facing in the arena!" Orixia smiled. "Just practice with it for the next week. And trust me." &sect; Each god was entitled to bestow powers on their candidate in accordance with their own power, which gave the most powerful gods a decided advantage and also tended to maintain the status quo among the pantheon. In the interest of fairness, however, each candidate also had to be given a mortal weakness, and the rules for selecting that weakness were strict and inviolable. The gods, being gods, all wanted their candidates' weaknesses to be as small as possible, so in the days before candidate selection they each went to the Celestial Historian, a noted expert in all things related to war and combat, and charged him with researching the most insignificant weakness they could bestow which would still qualify. Finally, the tournament began, and each competitor in turn was announced, along with their attributes. "The god Aros the Ultimate presents David Peterson, whose powers are near-infinite strength and superhuman speed! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket." There was heard much laughter and a few boos from the massed audience. In limiting his candidate's Achilles' heel to an attack with such an ancient, obscure weapon, Aros the Ultimate had virtually assured his victory. The tournament might as well end now. "The goddess Belingia the Great presents Angela Moquat, whose powers are ultimate mastery of edged weapons and birdlike flight! Her mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket." A gasp rose from the audience, followed by a growing murmur. What was going on here? "The god Caranis the Merciless presents M'tanga I'pongo, whose powers are transformation into fierce animals and the ability to cast fire! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket." So it continued through scores of candidates, until the last, weakest entry was introduced... "The god Orixia the Celestial Historian presents Jeff Myrtlebank, whose powers are outstanding marksmanship and the mastery of his Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. His mortal weakness is being brought to orgasm orally by Aros the Ultimate." Jeff and Orixia stood silently as all the other gods gathered at the other end of the arena and engaged in animated conversation. Finally Aros the Ultimate's booming voice rang out for all to hear: "NO! I am not going to 'take one for the team!'" Each candidate forfeited in turn, until only one remained. Jeff Myrtlebank was accepted to the pantheon, and every power granted to every candidate was given to him, along with all their vulnerabilities--which, ironically, were all the same. &sect; In the end, he alone among the gods had only two weaknesses. One became no weakness at all when he used his powers to secretly replace all Springfield Model 1861's in the universe with identical replicas, which of course held no threat to him. As for the other, Jeff eventually defeated Aros and took the throne, and even when facing annihilation, Aros remained true to his word. --- Edit: Thanks to /u/IReddYourWords for [the audiobook version!](https://youtu.be/YqrDIhoneGI)	In my hands is a rusty musket, and surrounding me are incredible battles. Everyone’s fighting for the throne, flying around the room or slashing at each other with laser swords. Their gods gifted them incredible powers, while mine gifted me…this. Someone runs by me, chuckling. Nobody thinks I’m a threat. When we were given these yesterday, everyone laughed at me. I’m just a scrawny band kid to them. I wonder why this god even picked me, of all people. There are superstar athletes and big time actors here. So why me? I’m a wasted vote. Only thing I can do is play trumpet. You only are if you choose to be. “What does that mean?” Be yourself. Before I can reply, a fist slams into the ground, sending me flying back. When I climb to my feet, there’s a girl standing in front of me wearing comically large boxing gloves, rearing one back. “Bye bye, sucka!” I dodge and take off running. She chases me. I clutch the musket, holding it tight to my stomach. How could I possibly use this? Be yourself. Show them your passion. I duck away from another punch, and another. Turning a corner, I reach a dead end, walls on either side of me. She’s getting closer and closer, shadow consuming me. Be myself, be myself. But what does that mean? My eyes scan the musket. Only now, stuck in danger, do I see it. The odd shape is purposeful, because it’s not a musket at all. No, not even close. It’s my passion, the only thing I’m truly good at. It’s a trumpet. “Time to die!” Pressing it to my lips, I whirl around, facing the girl. As I blow air into it, the thing transforms into a beautiful, golden trumpet, and the notes literally dance out of it, happy and colorful. They circle around her, and she immediately stops, captured by the music. A second later, she’s sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth. The hardest battles are won not by strength, but by skill. You’ve spent years mastering this, spent years training your mind to make others happy—while the others were simply given their talents. The walls fade, and when I look around, everyone’s sitting down, rocking back and forth. They love my music, which makes me smile. I actually…I actually did it! In front of me, the sky opens, and a staircase lowers out of it. There’s a throne sitting at the top. Does this mean…did I…am I… You will make a great god. And with that, I ascend the stairs. *** I hope this turned out okay! Thanks for the prompt. If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
[WP] You discover you have an odd super power: Persuasion. You can talk anyone (except yourself) into doing or believing anything. It occurs to you that you can eliminate war, bigotry, and the like, by just talking to as many people as possible. The problem is you have crippling social anxiety.	It wasn’t something that I really learned how to do. It just was. Something I started doing when I found that it worked. I could convince those around me of anything. For years I had an imaginary friend that existed for anyone that had direct contact with me. Continuing conversations I wasn’t aware was occurring, “imaginary” greetings and exchanges I couldn’t see. At times I asked myself, was I the crazy one? It was at that time I realized my “gift,” (If you’d like to call it that) has the potential to destroy a person’s entire being. If we were to call the discovery of this “gift” a lesson, then the second lesson I learned was that it has the power to destroy an entire person’s being. Matt, my closest friend, fell victim of this terrible lesson. “Persuading” him that Jeffrey the Unicorn didn’t exist. Undoing years of false interactions left him with nothing. All those years playing in the park, running through the backyards in our cul-de-sac, a void. His entire personality altered by one, “fact.” Jeffrey did not exist. I regret not standing by his side when he confronted our friends and even his family, telling them that the Jeffrey they believed they could so clearly say, did not exist. I quickly taught myself to watch what I say, by saying nothing at all. I explained Jeffrey away as having moved to another city. Anything else I met with silence. I passed through elementary and middle school hardly uttering a word. Years of isolation and ridicule left me with no social skills and a fear of any major social interaction. Any minor interaction held over my head as a potential major disruption to another’s life. What kind of damage could be done? What kind of horrible truth or untruth’s could I teach or “delete” from someone else’s life? High school eventually came around and quickly became the loneliest years of my life. Everyone fell into their groups, their cliques, except for me. I talked to no one, so there was no one to fall into with. The only one there for me was grandpa. He was always there, never asked any questions, and he never spoke. I alway felt as though he could and that he knew more than he let on. He was holding back words, decades of reading from dictionaries, thesaurus’ and books I could hardly comprehend, yet he never uttered a single word. Maybe he really did understand what I was dealing with. Frequently my parents fought. Over their kid who for some reason refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. Over the declining health of my dad’s father and the increasing medical bills to follow. Every time they’d try to bring me in, make me choose a side. But I knew if I were to choose, their lives would be broken beyond repair. So I look at them with sad eyes, hoping that would be enough to persuade them to stop. But it never was. Ultimately, the time came. My parents pulled me out of school and rushed me to the hospital. It wasn’t looking good for grandpa and he didn’t have much time. I stood by and watched. Helpless as his strength slowly left him. Each breath becoming more and more labored. I didn’t know what to do, what to feel. I couldn’t process anything that was going on. The emotions welled up inside my chest, with no where to go. Everything felt as though it were all crashing around me. I gripped his hand tightly, wishing I could hold him down to earth. I wanted more time with him, more laughs, more of how he always smelled of cigarettes even though we told him every day he needed to stop. I want him to continue to be there, to silently criticize what I wore, or did. I wanted him to be there rooting for him. Maybe my “gift” could give me just a little bit more time. After years of almost complete silence, I muttered the only words I could. “You’re going to live.” And that was the day he died.	“Sorry don’t have any change” I said as I picked up my pace heading down the steps to my subway stop. The ragged old beggar on the street corner just smiled and said “have a nice day” and focused his attention to the person behind me and asked the same question “spare me some change?” I tried to over-hear what the response of the person behind me was but couldn’t get a word with everyone rushing to the platform to wait for the oncoming subway. I couldn’t help but just stand amidst all the people and just reflect on my long day. Another monotonous day at the office. My direct supervisor keeps pushing the most time-consumingly brainless assignments. I spent half the day typing up a lengthy memo that would only be read internally and not even shown to our client. Complete and utter waste of time. I think further back when the supervisor assigned me the project. He grinned in his pinstriped suit as he extended his arms and said “it would be a great opportunity for you”. I knew it wasn’t but still complied, “I’ll get right on it sir”. Look at me now, have an hour commute to go, to swallow up my dinner and get back on the computer to do purposeless work. The speaker interrupted “there is a short delay on the oncoming sub, please expect a 10 to 15 minute delay”. Great. As I mindlessly pulled out my phone to browse the web, I saw a group of people passing out pamphlets to remind us of the oncoming election. Ughhh politics give me a break. I turned the opposite direction and accidentally bumped into one of the volunteers, “my apologies sir, but are you registered to vote?” She looked like a recent college graduate. I stammered, as usual, “Uhh yeah, I’m good”. As I was heading past her, she started back-pedaling and replying back to me, “as you know this is a key election that will shape the House of Representatives for years to come, do you know who you’re voting for?” Please leave me alone lady, “yes I do, thank you”. I sped up, but so did she. She was excited at my response, “that is great to hear sir, we’re here polling some people to determine which issues are most important to them would you mind taking 5 minutes to answer a few brief questions?” I’m trying to disengage here lady, “Uhh no thank you”. She persisted, “why not sir? Sub’s delayed a little while, and this would be of great help to us”. When she says it like that how can I refuse without seeming like a major jerk? “Alright, sure”, I said. “Thank you so much”, she said excitedly, “this will be of great help to us as we’re trying to get a picture of the most concerning issues to common Americans, can you let me know what is the most concerning issue to you?” She pulled out a clipboard that had a standardized piece of paper with a series of questions and black lines underneath each one in which she would write down my responses. I just did this to be nice not sure what to say, “uhhh, there’s so many issues can’t just pick one…uh abortion is important…just you know women should be able to abort if they want to…as long as it’s…you know compliant with Roe v Wade and all”. I sounded so profoundly dumb when I speak that I couldn’t help but start fiddling with my hands to distract myself. She began scribbling, and said “Ok so abortion is important to you, why?” Jeesh come on with the tough questions lady, “uhh it empowers women I guess”. She looked up and made eye contact in disbelief. “You guess?” My legs are shaking, “I mean I know it does”. Despite the large group of people on the platform I could hear her scribbling on the clipboard and it was deafening. Where the hell is this Subway? She continued, “Ok so abortion is an important concern to you, do you know who you’re voting for to determine how they would ‘empower women’”. Nice she’s using my words against me now, “Uhh yeah”. Can this conversation end already? She continued, “Ok who do you believe would be the best candidate?” Really not what I freaking bargained for come on I don’t have time for this, “Uhh not good with the names but I saw some of the ads on TV and will do some more research before the big day”. She’s not buying it, “So, to get this clear, you don’t really know yet who the candidate you’re voting for is?” I had to wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, “Uhh not right now but I’ll do more research before the vote day”. She replied, “vote day? you mean Election Day right?” My head was starting to get numb from the beating sound of my chest, “yeah that’s what I meant… Election day”. She made eye contact with me and I immediately looked away at the sign of the platform that read ‘Subway East Line’, I looked back at her and she was still making eye contact with me, what the hell is up with this girl. “Uhhm… was that the last question?” She snapped back “Do you even care?” I can’t feel my arms or legs, “What do you mean?” I stammered. She angrily said, “Sir, everything you have fed me is a straight-up lie, you don’t care about abortion, you don’t even care about this election. You don’t even understand the power you have as a voter. Your vote is your voice. You can persuade people of power to listen. That’s the beauty of the system we have. No matter the amount of money you have you can make a difference with a single act, to tell others how you feel about any issue that bogs your mind, from the simplest road repair on your route to work, to the economy as a whole, to taking care of the homeless, or even ending wars; your vote matters just as much as anyone else’s. And the only thing required of you is to care enough about an issue to make a difference and persuade lawmakers how we can improve as a society, but you obviously don’t. If you don’t want to solve issues or do something impactful towards others what’s the point of your life?” She turned away as the Subway finally arrived and the sound of the beep indicating the opening of the doors blared behind me. I was transfixed. I couldn’t move. How can a person be so blunt to a complete stranger yet so right? I never cared enough about any of this stuff. I was so socially awkward throughout my entire life that I just appeased others and never really thought about my ability to persuade others to effect change. I immediately stormed up the empty staircase, as the subway’s doors closed behind me, and met up with the old beggar and said, “Here sir, I hope this helps” and slipped a $10 bill in his cup.
[WP] You discover you have an odd super power: Persuasion. You can talk anyone (except yourself) into doing or believing anything. It occurs to you that you can eliminate war, bigotry, and the like, by just talking to as many people as possible. The problem is you have crippling social anxiety.	At first, he didn’t believe me. Of course, anyone would’ve responded the same way. Most people are hesitant, if not openly hostile, when confronted with the supernatural. Only those few who’ve experienced it themselves and embraced it can even accept it without a sneer or dismissive grunt. “I’m sorry, you said that you were charming?” he prodded, learning forward in his plush office chair. Dr. Yu was the best therapist in town, a near one hundred percent success rate, and we were well-acquainted from years of counseling. I folded my hands between my knees, lifting my head. Go through the steps. Make eye contact, take a breath, and speak. “No, I said that people are charmed by me,” I responded. Let the breath out now. “Like, I talk, and people do what I say.” “Well, yes, most people will do things for you if you ask politely,” Dr. Yu continued, raising an eyebrow and setting down his pad. “Are you feeling well? Has the medication been working? No side effects?” “No, no side effects.” I answered hastily, my pitch shifting up slightly. Breathe! Once, twice, three times. Slower. Once. Twice. Three times. “I don’t… I don’t ask people. I tell them.” “You seem tired. Have you been sleeping well, or is the stress still keeping you up? Perhaps we should finish for today.” “No!” I pushed myself forward, resting my hands on my knees. “Wait, wait. I’ll show you!” I looked around his office, finally pointing to his lap. “Hand me that pen.” Curiously, Dr. Yu passed his pen to me. It was expensive, engraved with his full name. Huh. Never pegged him as a James. “See?” I said, holding up the pen. He seemed even more confused. Of course. It had to be more drastic than that. “Go tear up your degree.” I pointed to the wall where his PhD rested. Dr. Yu’s face softened slightly. He stood up, moving to the wall. He would believe me now. He turned suddenly, clasping his hands behind him. “I never would’ve thought that you’d have the power of persuasion. Fate works in mysterious ways, hm?” Noticing my shocked and slack-jawed gaze, he smiled broadly. “You thought that you were the only one? That I was just a talented counselor? You’d be surprised how little prodding the human psyche needs in order to change.”	“Sorry don’t have any change” I said as I picked up my pace heading down the steps to my subway stop. The ragged old beggar on the street corner just smiled and said “have a nice day” and focused his attention to the person behind me and asked the same question “spare me some change?” I tried to over-hear what the response of the person behind me was but couldn’t get a word with everyone rushing to the platform to wait for the oncoming subway. I couldn’t help but just stand amidst all the people and just reflect on my long day. Another monotonous day at the office. My direct supervisor keeps pushing the most time-consumingly brainless assignments. I spent half the day typing up a lengthy memo that would only be read internally and not even shown to our client. Complete and utter waste of time. I think further back when the supervisor assigned me the project. He grinned in his pinstriped suit as he extended his arms and said “it would be a great opportunity for you”. I knew it wasn’t but still complied, “I’ll get right on it sir”. Look at me now, have an hour commute to go, to swallow up my dinner and get back on the computer to do purposeless work. The speaker interrupted “there is a short delay on the oncoming sub, please expect a 10 to 15 minute delay”. Great. As I mindlessly pulled out my phone to browse the web, I saw a group of people passing out pamphlets to remind us of the oncoming election. Ughhh politics give me a break. I turned the opposite direction and accidentally bumped into one of the volunteers, “my apologies sir, but are you registered to vote?” She looked like a recent college graduate. I stammered, as usual, “Uhh yeah, I’m good”. As I was heading past her, she started back-pedaling and replying back to me, “as you know this is a key election that will shape the House of Representatives for years to come, do you know who you’re voting for?” Please leave me alone lady, “yes I do, thank you”. I sped up, but so did she. She was excited at my response, “that is great to hear sir, we’re here polling some people to determine which issues are most important to them would you mind taking 5 minutes to answer a few brief questions?” I’m trying to disengage here lady, “Uhh no thank you”. She persisted, “why not sir? Sub’s delayed a little while, and this would be of great help to us”. When she says it like that how can I refuse without seeming like a major jerk? “Alright, sure”, I said. “Thank you so much”, she said excitedly, “this will be of great help to us as we’re trying to get a picture of the most concerning issues to common Americans, can you let me know what is the most concerning issue to you?” She pulled out a clipboard that had a standardized piece of paper with a series of questions and black lines underneath each one in which she would write down my responses. I just did this to be nice not sure what to say, “uhhh, there’s so many issues can’t just pick one…uh abortion is important…just you know women should be able to abort if they want to…as long as it’s…you know compliant with Roe v Wade and all”. I sounded so profoundly dumb when I speak that I couldn’t help but start fiddling with my hands to distract myself. She began scribbling, and said “Ok so abortion is important to you, why?” Jeesh come on with the tough questions lady, “uhh it empowers women I guess”. She looked up and made eye contact in disbelief. “You guess?” My legs are shaking, “I mean I know it does”. Despite the large group of people on the platform I could hear her scribbling on the clipboard and it was deafening. Where the hell is this Subway? She continued, “Ok so abortion is an important concern to you, do you know who you’re voting for to determine how they would ‘empower women’”. Nice she’s using my words against me now, “Uhh yeah”. Can this conversation end already? She continued, “Ok who do you believe would be the best candidate?” Really not what I freaking bargained for come on I don’t have time for this, “Uhh not good with the names but I saw some of the ads on TV and will do some more research before the big day”. She’s not buying it, “So, to get this clear, you don’t really know yet who the candidate you’re voting for is?” I had to wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, “Uhh not right now but I’ll do more research before the vote day”. She replied, “vote day? you mean Election Day right?” My head was starting to get numb from the beating sound of my chest, “yeah that’s what I meant… Election day”. She made eye contact with me and I immediately looked away at the sign of the platform that read ‘Subway East Line’, I looked back at her and she was still making eye contact with me, what the hell is up with this girl. “Uhhm… was that the last question?” She snapped back “Do you even care?” I can’t feel my arms or legs, “What do you mean?” I stammered. She angrily said, “Sir, everything you have fed me is a straight-up lie, you don’t care about abortion, you don’t even care about this election. You don’t even understand the power you have as a voter. Your vote is your voice. You can persuade people of power to listen. That’s the beauty of the system we have. No matter the amount of money you have you can make a difference with a single act, to tell others how you feel about any issue that bogs your mind, from the simplest road repair on your route to work, to the economy as a whole, to taking care of the homeless, or even ending wars; your vote matters just as much as anyone else’s. And the only thing required of you is to care enough about an issue to make a difference and persuade lawmakers how we can improve as a society, but you obviously don’t. If you don’t want to solve issues or do something impactful towards others what’s the point of your life?” She turned away as the Subway finally arrived and the sound of the beep indicating the opening of the doors blared behind me. I was transfixed. I couldn’t move. How can a person be so blunt to a complete stranger yet so right? I never cared enough about any of this stuff. I was so socially awkward throughout my entire life that I just appeased others and never really thought about my ability to persuade others to effect change. I immediately stormed up the empty staircase, as the subway’s doors closed behind me, and met up with the old beggar and said, “Here sir, I hope this helps” and slipped a $10 bill in his cup.
[WP] You discover you have an odd super power: Persuasion. You can talk anyone (except yourself) into doing or believing anything. It occurs to you that you can eliminate war, bigotry, and the like, by just talking to as many people as possible. The problem is you have crippling social anxiety.	Suddenly, I felt it.The power.Inside of me. I saw a world. A utopia, even, where the sun always shines, and humanity is united as one. I would be the cause of this world. I must tell someone.Just one. They laugh, they say I'm a nobody. They say I am no one special, I will never amount to anything. They say my life isn't worth anything. They sa- Do they? Will they laugh? Will they say I'm a nobody? Will they say I'm no one special? Will I never amount to anything? It is this fear that keeps me.from saving the world. The world is corrupted-corrupted with the fact that people are scared of others, and have reason to hate. Or even have no reason-and just hate. I am one of those victims. Isn't it ironic that I can;t save the world from the one problem I face? Isn't it ironic that the solution to the world's greatest issue is also a product of it? Nevertheless, I must try. One day, at least. It can wait until tomorrow...can't it? I have my friends here anyhow. Come in, movies! Welcome, idleness! Take a seat, sit down, we have much work to do.... Allow us to begin... One more episode can't hurt, can it? One more show? I must tell someone. One more season? As I recline in a state of eternal idleness, I watch the Condition worsen and worsen. Perhaps I should tell someone, but that can wait until another day... The hours pass by, the days, the months, the years. I will tell someone... Just not yet. Ah... lethargy! My old comfort! You have been there when people have not; you have been my one fortress against the battering rams of humanity. Allow us to go on a journey, shall we? Hello action films! Hello video games! Dear friends, I always miss you! What have we here? My friends, I must push you away! It seems that nations are clashing, blood flowing, bones crushing! I am the solution, I can fix this, I can stop this, I can be something. Oh wait... this was years ago? I must tell someone. But it is too late. &#x200B; First time ever doing one of these, thoughts?:)	“Sorry don’t have any change” I said as I picked up my pace heading down the steps to my subway stop. The ragged old beggar on the street corner just smiled and said “have a nice day” and focused his attention to the person behind me and asked the same question “spare me some change?” I tried to over-hear what the response of the person behind me was but couldn’t get a word with everyone rushing to the platform to wait for the oncoming subway. I couldn’t help but just stand amidst all the people and just reflect on my long day. Another monotonous day at the office. My direct supervisor keeps pushing the most time-consumingly brainless assignments. I spent half the day typing up a lengthy memo that would only be read internally and not even shown to our client. Complete and utter waste of time. I think further back when the supervisor assigned me the project. He grinned in his pinstriped suit as he extended his arms and said “it would be a great opportunity for you”. I knew it wasn’t but still complied, “I’ll get right on it sir”. Look at me now, have an hour commute to go, to swallow up my dinner and get back on the computer to do purposeless work. The speaker interrupted “there is a short delay on the oncoming sub, please expect a 10 to 15 minute delay”. Great. As I mindlessly pulled out my phone to browse the web, I saw a group of people passing out pamphlets to remind us of the oncoming election. Ughhh politics give me a break. I turned the opposite direction and accidentally bumped into one of the volunteers, “my apologies sir, but are you registered to vote?” She looked like a recent college graduate. I stammered, as usual, “Uhh yeah, I’m good”. As I was heading past her, she started back-pedaling and replying back to me, “as you know this is a key election that will shape the House of Representatives for years to come, do you know who you’re voting for?” Please leave me alone lady, “yes I do, thank you”. I sped up, but so did she. She was excited at my response, “that is great to hear sir, we’re here polling some people to determine which issues are most important to them would you mind taking 5 minutes to answer a few brief questions?” I’m trying to disengage here lady, “Uhh no thank you”. She persisted, “why not sir? Sub’s delayed a little while, and this would be of great help to us”. When she says it like that how can I refuse without seeming like a major jerk? “Alright, sure”, I said. “Thank you so much”, she said excitedly, “this will be of great help to us as we’re trying to get a picture of the most concerning issues to common Americans, can you let me know what is the most concerning issue to you?” She pulled out a clipboard that had a standardized piece of paper with a series of questions and black lines underneath each one in which she would write down my responses. I just did this to be nice not sure what to say, “uhhh, there’s so many issues can’t just pick one…uh abortion is important…just you know women should be able to abort if they want to…as long as it’s…you know compliant with Roe v Wade and all”. I sounded so profoundly dumb when I speak that I couldn’t help but start fiddling with my hands to distract myself. She began scribbling, and said “Ok so abortion is important to you, why?” Jeesh come on with the tough questions lady, “uhh it empowers women I guess”. She looked up and made eye contact in disbelief. “You guess?” My legs are shaking, “I mean I know it does”. Despite the large group of people on the platform I could hear her scribbling on the clipboard and it was deafening. Where the hell is this Subway? She continued, “Ok so abortion is an important concern to you, do you know who you’re voting for to determine how they would ‘empower women’”. Nice she’s using my words against me now, “Uhh yeah”. Can this conversation end already? She continued, “Ok who do you believe would be the best candidate?” Really not what I freaking bargained for come on I don’t have time for this, “Uhh not good with the names but I saw some of the ads on TV and will do some more research before the big day”. She’s not buying it, “So, to get this clear, you don’t really know yet who the candidate you’re voting for is?” I had to wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, “Uhh not right now but I’ll do more research before the vote day”. She replied, “vote day? you mean Election Day right?” My head was starting to get numb from the beating sound of my chest, “yeah that’s what I meant… Election day”. She made eye contact with me and I immediately looked away at the sign of the platform that read ‘Subway East Line’, I looked back at her and she was still making eye contact with me, what the hell is up with this girl. “Uhhm… was that the last question?” She snapped back “Do you even care?” I can’t feel my arms or legs, “What do you mean?” I stammered. She angrily said, “Sir, everything you have fed me is a straight-up lie, you don’t care about abortion, you don’t even care about this election. You don’t even understand the power you have as a voter. Your vote is your voice. You can persuade people of power to listen. That’s the beauty of the system we have. No matter the amount of money you have you can make a difference with a single act, to tell others how you feel about any issue that bogs your mind, from the simplest road repair on your route to work, to the economy as a whole, to taking care of the homeless, or even ending wars; your vote matters just as much as anyone else’s. And the only thing required of you is to care enough about an issue to make a difference and persuade lawmakers how we can improve as a society, but you obviously don’t. If you don’t want to solve issues or do something impactful towards others what’s the point of your life?” She turned away as the Subway finally arrived and the sound of the beep indicating the opening of the doors blared behind me. I was transfixed. I couldn’t move. How can a person be so blunt to a complete stranger yet so right? I never cared enough about any of this stuff. I was so socially awkward throughout my entire life that I just appeased others and never really thought about my ability to persuade others to effect change. I immediately stormed up the empty staircase, as the subway’s doors closed behind me, and met up with the old beggar and said, “Here sir, I hope this helps” and slipped a $10 bill in his cup.
[WP] You discover you have an odd super power: Persuasion. You can talk anyone (except yourself) into doing or believing anything. It occurs to you that you can eliminate war, bigotry, and the like, by just talking to as many people as possible. The problem is you have crippling social anxiety.	That confirms it... this can't be real life. I seriously just did it again, convinced that convenience store owner to give me ANOTHER free coffee, these lame excuses just keep getting worse. I have been trying to fail. I don't know when this happened... I've been shut in here for so long, he's the only guy I even speak to - I couldn't tell you his name. But it's not even just there, I've been winning EVERY argument I get into on the internet extremely easily... I found out I was wrong the other day and I had to correct it, people believed me both ways 100%. This is wrong... even just arguing on the internet feels so draining for me, but this power - what could I do with it? I mean, convince any girl I want to... I haven't even spken to a girl since highschool... what do I know? I've been cooped up in this room writing stupid jingles for advertisers, my uncle set me up with the job at first but people liked my work... I've never been social, its just not in me. In highschool even I was a loner, it stresses me out thinking people are judging me. But the guy at he convenience store doesn't judge me. No, he'd never judge me. He's a good guy. Good ol' whatshisname... God, even the people I like I can't be bothered to remember their names... maybe I'm the problem? What to do, I know now I can make people like me... but I can't talk to people. When did I get this power... What can I do to better the world when I can cause so much wrong? I mean, creating zealots is a dangerous hobby - what parts of free will do I cut into? I've been taking coffee from that guy for weeks now, will this power go to my head? I don't like it, I could easily ruin people's lives. I'm not wise enough to implement this properly. I'm also terrible at talking to people, aside from that convenience store owner, and he'd be a terrible proxy to enact change through... I mean I've only ever talked at length recently to him... well aside from when I sometimes spend a lot of time talking aloud to no one in particular... wait a minute... ... "Hey God, are you listening? Could you do me a favor?"	“Sorry don’t have any change” I said as I picked up my pace heading down the steps to my subway stop. The ragged old beggar on the street corner just smiled and said “have a nice day” and focused his attention to the person behind me and asked the same question “spare me some change?” I tried to over-hear what the response of the person behind me was but couldn’t get a word with everyone rushing to the platform to wait for the oncoming subway. I couldn’t help but just stand amidst all the people and just reflect on my long day. Another monotonous day at the office. My direct supervisor keeps pushing the most time-consumingly brainless assignments. I spent half the day typing up a lengthy memo that would only be read internally and not even shown to our client. Complete and utter waste of time. I think further back when the supervisor assigned me the project. He grinned in his pinstriped suit as he extended his arms and said “it would be a great opportunity for you”. I knew it wasn’t but still complied, “I’ll get right on it sir”. Look at me now, have an hour commute to go, to swallow up my dinner and get back on the computer to do purposeless work. The speaker interrupted “there is a short delay on the oncoming sub, please expect a 10 to 15 minute delay”. Great. As I mindlessly pulled out my phone to browse the web, I saw a group of people passing out pamphlets to remind us of the oncoming election. Ughhh politics give me a break. I turned the opposite direction and accidentally bumped into one of the volunteers, “my apologies sir, but are you registered to vote?” She looked like a recent college graduate. I stammered, as usual, “Uhh yeah, I’m good”. As I was heading past her, she started back-pedaling and replying back to me, “as you know this is a key election that will shape the House of Representatives for years to come, do you know who you’re voting for?” Please leave me alone lady, “yes I do, thank you”. I sped up, but so did she. She was excited at my response, “that is great to hear sir, we’re here polling some people to determine which issues are most important to them would you mind taking 5 minutes to answer a few brief questions?” I’m trying to disengage here lady, “Uhh no thank you”. She persisted, “why not sir? Sub’s delayed a little while, and this would be of great help to us”. When she says it like that how can I refuse without seeming like a major jerk? “Alright, sure”, I said. “Thank you so much”, she said excitedly, “this will be of great help to us as we’re trying to get a picture of the most concerning issues to common Americans, can you let me know what is the most concerning issue to you?” She pulled out a clipboard that had a standardized piece of paper with a series of questions and black lines underneath each one in which she would write down my responses. I just did this to be nice not sure what to say, “uhhh, there’s so many issues can’t just pick one…uh abortion is important…just you know women should be able to abort if they want to…as long as it’s…you know compliant with Roe v Wade and all”. I sounded so profoundly dumb when I speak that I couldn’t help but start fiddling with my hands to distract myself. She began scribbling, and said “Ok so abortion is important to you, why?” Jeesh come on with the tough questions lady, “uhh it empowers women I guess”. She looked up and made eye contact in disbelief. “You guess?” My legs are shaking, “I mean I know it does”. Despite the large group of people on the platform I could hear her scribbling on the clipboard and it was deafening. Where the hell is this Subway? She continued, “Ok so abortion is an important concern to you, do you know who you’re voting for to determine how they would ‘empower women’”. Nice she’s using my words against me now, “Uhh yeah”. Can this conversation end already? She continued, “Ok who do you believe would be the best candidate?” Really not what I freaking bargained for come on I don’t have time for this, “Uhh not good with the names but I saw some of the ads on TV and will do some more research before the big day”. She’s not buying it, “So, to get this clear, you don’t really know yet who the candidate you’re voting for is?” I had to wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, “Uhh not right now but I’ll do more research before the vote day”. She replied, “vote day? you mean Election Day right?” My head was starting to get numb from the beating sound of my chest, “yeah that’s what I meant… Election day”. She made eye contact with me and I immediately looked away at the sign of the platform that read ‘Subway East Line’, I looked back at her and she was still making eye contact with me, what the hell is up with this girl. “Uhhm… was that the last question?” She snapped back “Do you even care?” I can’t feel my arms or legs, “What do you mean?” I stammered. She angrily said, “Sir, everything you have fed me is a straight-up lie, you don’t care about abortion, you don’t even care about this election. You don’t even understand the power you have as a voter. Your vote is your voice. You can persuade people of power to listen. That’s the beauty of the system we have. No matter the amount of money you have you can make a difference with a single act, to tell others how you feel about any issue that bogs your mind, from the simplest road repair on your route to work, to the economy as a whole, to taking care of the homeless, or even ending wars; your vote matters just as much as anyone else’s. And the only thing required of you is to care enough about an issue to make a difference and persuade lawmakers how we can improve as a society, but you obviously don’t. If you don’t want to solve issues or do something impactful towards others what’s the point of your life?” She turned away as the Subway finally arrived and the sound of the beep indicating the opening of the doors blared behind me. I was transfixed. I couldn’t move. How can a person be so blunt to a complete stranger yet so right? I never cared enough about any of this stuff. I was so socially awkward throughout my entire life that I just appeased others and never really thought about my ability to persuade others to effect change. I immediately stormed up the empty staircase, as the subway’s doors closed behind me, and met up with the old beggar and said, “Here sir, I hope this helps” and slipped a $10 bill in his cup.
[WP] You discover you have an odd super power: Persuasion. You can talk anyone (except yourself) into doing or believing anything. It occurs to you that you can eliminate war, bigotry, and the like, by just talking to as many people as possible. The problem is you have crippling social anxiety.	That confirms it... this can't be real life. I seriously just did it again, convinced that convenience store owner to give me ANOTHER free coffee, these lame excuses just keep getting worse. I have been trying to fail. I don't know when this happened... I've been shut in here for so long, he's the only guy I even speak to - I couldn't tell you his name. But it's not even just there, I've been winning EVERY argument I get into on the internet extremely easily... I found out I was wrong the other day and I had to correct it, people believed me both ways 100%. This is wrong... even just arguing on the internet feels so draining for me, but this power - what could I do with it? I mean, convince any girl I want to... I haven't even spken to a girl since highschool... what do I know? I've been cooped up in this room writing stupid jingles for advertisers, my uncle set me up with the job at first but people liked my work... I've never been social, its just not in me. In highschool even I was a loner, it stresses me out thinking people are judging me. But the guy at he convenience store doesn't judge me. No, he'd never judge me. He's a good guy. Good ol' whatshisname... God, even the people I like I can't be bothered to remember their names... maybe I'm the problem? What to do, I know now I can make people like me... but I can't talk to people. When did I get this power... What can I do to better the world when I can cause so much wrong? I mean, creating zealots is a dangerous hobby - what parts of free will do I cut into? I've been taking coffee from that guy for weeks now, will this power go to my head? I don't like it, I could easily ruin people's lives. I'm not wise enough to implement this properly. I'm also terrible at talking to people, aside from that convenience store owner, and he'd be a terrible proxy to enact change through... I mean I've only ever talked at length recently to him... well aside from when I sometimes spend a lot of time talking aloud to no one in particular... wait a minute... ... "Hey God, are you listening? Could you do me a favor?"	A curse. That's what it was. You could help them all I clicked on another channel. The news again. You could make them agree I clicked on another channel. More news. Go out and talk to them I turned off my TV and threw my remote across the room. My eye started to twitch as I sat there on my couch, slowly curling into the fetal position. What's wrong? The voice in my head, the really convincing one kept taunting me. I tried desperately to push it out of my thoughts. I didn't want to listen to it again. It had gotten much worse over the past couple of weeks, but I still had to be stronger. It kept trying to use its convincing tone, it kept trying to guilt me, it was good. But I had to be stronger. You would be a hero I couldn't listen, it wouldn't work. These weren't my powers, they belonged to it. You have nothing to worry about. Sometimes it would taunt me about my social anxiety. But it just kept making it worse. How was I supposed to hold any conversation when there was an echoey, charming voice breathing down my neck. We could be god It was good. At first, when I was young and the voice was nothing but tv static in the back of my mind, I had no idea what it could do so I just ignored it. Anything you've ever wanted Then, when I was a teenager, the voice was faint, it would give me tips and steer me in directions. I didn't know what it was doing until much later, but that was my peak. My senior year of high school, I had a semi-stable friend group, I wasn't a total social outcast for the first time ever. And I had a tiny little voice to thank for it. It doesn't have to be this way Then it got louder. After high school, the voice got a bit louder, a bit more serious. The tips got bigger, the tone got more serious. Just listen to me It got more demanding. Listen to me dammit! I soon figured out, that this voice was not just my subconscious, it was something else completely, and it wanted something. I knew that if I listened, if I played along with everything it told me, I could get whatever I wanted. Everything it said was powerful, it had the ability to make anyone do anything. All I had to do was listen. You're a horrible person It would use any tactic necessary to get me to listen. It would guilt me, intimidate me, promise me things. But I still had control. For some reason, it couldn't convince me, I had control over my body still. All it could do was make me listen. The world could be better And I had to listen. At its current volume, everything it said pierced my mind sharply and I was forced to understand every word. Recently it had gotten much more demanding, presenting magical fantasies of world peace caused by me, and I didn't know how much worse it could get. You know it's right I've never been a social person, I've always cared too much what other people think. Criticism scared me, and I would freeze whenever someone yelled at me. With how persuading it was, you'd think it would know this. But it knew I had to listen. I know what you want, I can get it all I've had a lot of time to think about it recently too. Now, when I look back on my former years, the sting of knowledge plagues my memories. From the light buzz to a booming voice, it was like all of the charm, charisma, sociability, had been stripped from me and given to it. Angie would talk to you again I cringed, the name of my only girlfriend ever echoing in my head. I'd known Angie for years, pining after her for as long as I could remember, but she'd barely noticed me. Until it directed me. She'd finally noticed me after I started taking its small tips, she'd talked to me and somehow ignored my awkwardness. Then I'd stopped, and we'd quickly broken up. You could have her back, you could make her happy No. I had to stay in control. You could change everything The voice showed its familiar, gnarled anger at my refusal. You were blessed, and you waste me Blessed? I lifted my head up, breathing heavily from the exchange. I wasn't blessed. I didn't like to live like this! No matter how persuasive I could be, no matter what I might be able to get, I didn't like to live like this! A blessing!? No, this wasn't a blessing. This was a curse. That's what it was. --- A Curse from the Bookshelf of the Gods. /r/BoTG &nbsp;
[WP] You've stolen a phone and after you've run away, you check it. It has a selfie of you as wallpaper.	One day after school, I tried my hand at pickpocketing. Just for the heck of it. I didn't want to take anything so much as prove that I could, so stole a phone from some kid like half my age so I could use the info on the lock screen to return it. But when I turned the phone on, there was a picture of me on the lockscreen. "Hey, this is my phone!" "Not anymore, I stole it fair and square." I nearly jump out of my shoes as the girl I stole it from speaks up behind me. "Gah! Don't sneak up on people like that. It's rude." "So is taking things that don't belong to you. Give me that phone back." "It's not your phone. That's not how property works kid. And even if it was I stole it back so it's mine again." "I took it from you fairly. You cheated." "How can you steal something fairly? Stealing is by definition unfair." "When I took it from you you didn't notice. You didn't miss it. When you took it from me I did notice, and I want it back." This kid has seriously warped ideas about property. Though now that I look at her, between the three ratty sweatshirts she's wearing on top of eachother and the torn backpack, she might not have much of property to know about. "What do you even need a phone for kid?" It's not immediately relevant, but it could tell me a bit more about this kid's situation. "I need to call my mom and tell her where I am, but your stupid phone won't let me make calls." "That's because it's locked. Here, I'll call her for you, what's her number?" I make the call and get a robotic woman's voice telling me the number doesn't belong to anyone. "It's disconnected. Is there anyone else I can call who could reach her?" "Probably not after three years." She looks like she's about to cry, but holds it in like a pro. "I was just being an idiot anyway. I know she left me on purpose" Great, now I feel bad. Thanks a lot conscience. "I don't know what happened to your mother, but if you need a roof over your head for the night I have one. We can figure out what to do about tomorrow when it gets here." "You don't have to, I'm fine on my own. I have my own alley and everything." "Yeah, but I have food." That gets her attention. "How much food?" "I have so much food." "I'm in." And that's the story of how I met my little sister.	(PART 1) OCTOBER 31, 2018, 6:00 AM Noise pierces the air. It’s the type of noise that physically fills the air, pushing itself outwards on the walls in the room. It’s the type of noise that physiologically disturbs your nerves and threatens your core. It’s my twin-bell alarm clock, and the hammer always strikes at 6 o’clock in the morning. Even with days as difficult as mine, sometimes the hardest challenge is waking up. Perhaps it’s a symptom of insomnia, perhaps I lack the will to do so. My days are full of work. Important work, depending on who you ask. Then again, your thoughts on me might be drastically different, depending on who you ask. Important if you ask me, I thought. I’m not sure who else you’d ask. I start everyday off with a coffee. I love coffee. Coffee costs money, a commodity I’m often fresh out of. Here I am protecting the world for free, I murmur sarcastically to my brain, half-expecting a response. There’s a street of cafes just a few blocks away and traffic is surprising high as white-collar sheep scurry to their work. I’ve become exceptionally gifted at the art of borrowing money. I use to just take wallets, but purses are the most fun. Some purses contain a women’s keys, money, and phone- the holy trinity of identity. I like to imagine their face when they realize it’s all gone. It’s crucial that the coffee is hot, I don’t like cold coffee. I don’t like cold anything. I spy my victim, a younger women, perhaps in her thirties. She’s wrapped in a scarf and from my distance I acknowledge she is honestly quite beautiful. I approach from behind to the right side and lay my arm on the left. In the blink of an eye I scoot the strap of her purse off her shoulder and swing it behind my back. The women’s head turns to the left, blatantly unaware of her contribution. I am a “retired” scientist, and an expert in physics and astrology. I also monitor the atmosphere for alien activity for roughly 20 hours a day, approximately. And it is rough, trust me. It gets lonely knowing you are the one who knows we aren’t alone in the universe. 30 years of monitoring those screens. 30 years of that alarm clock. 30 years of silence. I bit my tongue as I thought. I have a newfound sense of appreciation for that clock. Well, maybe not appreciation, but respect. At least it’s able to make a noise. I haven’t made in a noise in 30 years. Not purposefully, no, I’m not crazy. I haven’t been able to conjure any audible source from within myself since the accident. I was abducted by an alien 30 years ago. It wasn’t how I imagine you think it’ll be. There was no anti-gravity beam, no “unidentified flying object”, no probing. There was pain, though. (PART 2 a few comments below!)
[WP] There is only one god, that of Documentation. Approved documents run the world, and all live and die by them. You’ve just shredded your birth certificate.	I stepped over the police line and drew my badge. "Chris, from homicide." The duty officer glanced over and nodded. "Hail our Sire." I dipped my chin. "Hail our Sire." Two floors up, turn right, third unit. Number three-oh-five. Not another living soul in a block meant to house three thousand. Any illusion that this might have been a run-of-the-mill investigation evaporated away. And I was wrong about being alone. Two Ministry figures were already in the room. The door shut behind me and I bowed, chin to chest. "No pleasantries. You have seen this before?" I raised my head and threw my eyes around the room, furiously scanning. Slips, scraps, and shrapnel of paper were plastered over the walls, as though a papier-mâché bomb had gone off. Look for patterns. Discern the entropy. Two point three seconds. "Shredded birth certificate. Most common kind of suicide. He- or she- would never have existed, and we'd find no body. But-" "Yes. Apparent. 2015." "Winter of 2015, Montréal. Something... felt wrong. I ordered the entropy run on the fragment pattern. 0.31215 is not a number you see every day. I can-" "Don't bother. It works out to the same. You are here, Hopkins, because of your... talent for picking out the unusual. And yet you are faithful to the cause. Tell me, do you go gazing into abysses?" "... Sir?" "Hmm." He fell silent, an inscrutable mask. Ministry folk were hardly comprehensible at the best of times, and this was definitely not a good time. I shuffled on my feet, looking around the room. As I looked around, something else started to pop at me. Lines here, spaces there- no, the very randomness of the scene itself formed in front of me, and I stared longingly, teasing strands of meaning from pure black and white, until letters began to appear- "Eris." I gasped and opened my eyes. I was staring at the ceiling. "Three hours. Not bad. Better than most." My lungs began to work, and I started gulping for air, furiously clawing at my throat. "what-" "It is blasphemy to say so, Hopkins, but there is another God in our world. Eris. We thought we had thrown off her influence, confining her to the edges of quantum indecision. But she moves again in the realms of man." He cocked his head slightly to one side for a lingering moment, then drew a card from his coat pocket, letting it drop beside me. "Two days. Ministry. Reassignment. Prepare your will."	“BZZZZRRRRTTTT” “OH MY FUCKING GOD, STEVE WHAT’D YOU DO!” “I’m done jerry, this shit’s ridiculous, I can’t with documents anymore. I had to sign and initial over 30 forms just on my way to work today, just to get here and sign more paperwork. WAKE UP JERRY! It’s an endless loop of misery and suffering, and i’m done with it.” Suddenly there’s a woosh of air, and the fluttering of papers, and standing behind Steve is a nine foot tall man. He wears glasses, stands up straight, and is dressed in a very elegant looking suit. His voice resonates with authority as he says, “Steven Jeffrey Williams, you have disrespected a piece of documentation and have therefore disrespected me and the order of this world.” He bends over and picks up the shredder, in one smooth motion the top of the shredder is popped off, and he reaches in for the scraps of paper. They float into his hand and reform to show Steve’s birth certificate. Steven stares unimpressed at the man, while Jerry practically has an aneurysm waiting to see what happens. “I see, of all the pieces of documentation you could have chosen to dispose of, you chose this one. Why?” “Because I just don’t give a shit anymore, i’ve spent the last three decades of my life filling out paperwork. I wanted to get rid of the piece of paper that started it all.” “Hmm, very well. If you choose to get rid of proof of your birth, then I say to that, Steven; wish granted.” With a snap Steven and the man disappear in a whirlwind of papers. “WHAT. THE. FUCK.” - Jerry. The end.
[WP] Each religion's version of the apocalypse, both ancient and modern, have the potential of happening. The different deities place bets on which one happens first	"How many times do I have to tell you this? Nuclear annihilation does not count as Ragnarok! By the time it gets cold everyone is already dead!" — Said Osiris. "Well according to this article the nuclear winter is going to cause majority of deaths and..." — Began Odin. "The world descends into chaos, and then it re-appears from its primal state. You think those firecrackers they call weapons of mass destruction can cause never-ending winter?" — Osiris cut him off. "Guys... Cold war ended like 30 years ago and we've spent the entire Cuban missile crisis arguing about this. Doesn't matter who's right on that. Ain't gonna happen." — Zeus interjected. "Everyone come take a look!" — A voice came from behind them. "...This year marks official end of piracy off the Somali coast as not a single attack was reported in over 13 months..." — A TV reporter recited. "Well shit. Global warming it is then." — Zeus sighed. "Hope you won't miss your lightning rod!" — Said the Big Flying Spaghetti Monster. If a ball of spaghetti could look satisfied with itself then that's exactly how it'd look.	"I know you think that the sun is going to swallow the earth but i asked apollo about this and he say he has it on a tight leash" zues told his mayan brothers "If its happened 6 times, its going to happen again" they responded "Guys, come on" Odin interjected "how cool would ragnarok be tho"
[WP] The intergalactic community at large, while highly intelligent, never developed any kind of philosophy or spirituality. A five minute conversation with a human on the wrong topic can send most aliens into an existential crisis so severe they go insane. They call us the whispering race.	It was mesmerizing to witness a debate between Philosophers. The Whispering Race had long ago become immune to considering the laws of universe, though exactly what it is they speak is... difficult to explain. My mentor claimed that it was explaining not the what, when, and how* but the why. I tried to press further, but he refused me. “I already drove one pupil mad,” He solemnly said. “But not again.” I digress, back to the debate. The peoples of Earth, Humanity, could apparently contemplate the universe in ways scientists or even my races prestigious engineers could not truly fathom. Masters of this craft, the ‘philosophers’ were naturally masters of word craft normally, though their wisdom surpassed the cold hard logic quantum AI’s could not predict. I sit now among peers from dozens of other races watching two such masters in the midst of an argument. We had been selected for our mental fortitude and unique way of thinking. Despite this (and the vast amount of genetic, cybernetic, and pharmaceutical improvements we receive throughout our training) it was mandatory that any and all translation devices be not only turned off but removed from the room, as well as all recording devices. The Philosophers sparred word for word, sentence for sentence, and I felt the power behind every one. I saw how they seemingly danced with speech, when one made a point over their opponent, when an impasse was reached and a new rout was plotted in the conversation. The language they spoke in (as most languages of their kind) sung and echoed across the hall, and for a moment I could see. It makes no sense to you, but I understood what they meant, if only a sliver. It was then I began to understand. I know no other non-human had done so before with out falling within the throes of insanity. It is something I face everyday, and something all humans face, even some succumbing to. It saddens me to know their might be no others to follow after me. But I hope that perhaps one day, one day, maybe we ourselves could learn to master that tiny sliver of understanding. -Shas’ Ol’ Kaiz the First and Only, first non human philosopher.	The human spirit is unique in the universe, a concept that belongs only to us, whom they call the Whisperers. We are the ones who explore the spirits of the universe, delving into the spiritual realm of alien minds. &#x200B; To put it in other words, alien psychologist. The catharsis for the neurosis of the universe. \\\* The first patient that visited us, in a run-down alleyway on a tropical planet of the Andromeda galaxy, was a member of the Qual-tar-asra race, a bisexual insectoid lifeform. They mate in breeding cycles, yet, for this particular gentleman, he seemed rather perturbed that he is incapable of mating. &#x200B; Erectile Dysfunction. A surprisingly common illness among alien species. Sex, after all, is a universal constant for life. Understanding of sex, however, in terms of the mind, is woefully lacking. &#x200B; "So...Mr. Tasalara Um-Astiqa Afiki Jezios Ah-ka-laki, the problem you have is easy to solve." &#x200B; Are you sure? Qual-tar-asra do not communicate through sound waves, but rather through smells and pheromones. Right now, the smell being expressed is one of doubt mixed with hope, a strange cacophony of perfume mixed with cheese. &#x200B; Thank god for the universal translator and my air purifying system, I muttered under my breath, I am not paid enough for this. &#x200B; "Yes. Yes, of course. The...malfunctioning...is simply a result of an unresolved conflict in your childhood, according to Freudian terms." &#x200B; Childhood? We, of the Qual-tar-asra, breed in wholes, each one of the other. Children are a foreign concept. &#x200B; "Err...well...I did not know that...but, no worries, there is still the possibility of an Oedipus Complex being the root cause of the problem. A repressed sexual urge for your mother, I would say." &#x200B; Repressed sexual urges? Angaha alhah isaslta-li! I could not even feel sexual urges. &#x200B; "Ah...but you see...that is the problem...your childhood, that, you got to tell me more about it..." &#x200B; I never met my broodmother! We never meet the ones who breed. I was adopted to the Asdarla warrior tribe. &#x200B; "Ah..that's it! The failure to meet your broodmother is the problem. You see, there exists a part of our psyche that yearns for the maternal touch, that needs to be fulfilled in order for it to resolve itself. The rest of your brood did not suffer from the problems, right?" &#x200B; Ah...but... &#x200B; "You suffer from a problem of deviancy. Look, here, in our minds, in our spirits, we are all born different, each of us having different desires. You, sire, have an infliction of maternal desires. Contact with your maternal mother should fix the problem. &#x200B; But..aisis...spirit...soul...all this talk hurts my mind. I will try it, Whisperer. &#x200B; "Good...good. The payment will be by the counter over there, hope to see you for the next session soon." &#x200B; Asalahs dersi kumula, Whisperer. \\\* &#x200B; "Look, look, it is hard making a living out here, ok? Don't judge me." &#x200B; Alcohol, a unique invention by the human race to poison itself, poured down my throat, bringing me temporary peace to chaos of my mind. Whisperer...whisperer...all I had was an ancient copy of DSM-5... &#x200B; Yup, in case you haven't figured it out, I am a charlatan Whisperer, scamming my services in the fringes of the universe, making my galactic credits off people looking for cheap psychological care. Before me was my partner in crime, my Advertising and Marketing Specialist, another human invention in galactic space. &#x200B; We were both conman (or conwoman), but she was the hook, I am the line and the sinker. That idiotic insectman paid up his share for the "treatment", but, guess what, idiotic us spent it immediately on alcohol. &#x200B; Conning is a high-stress job, temporary respite is all part of the game. &#x200B; "Judging you? No...no...I am just warning you. The Whispering Council has gotten wind of you, they are trying to track you down." &#x200B; Whispering Council....ah....god damn it...those freaking convoluted bumbling rhetorical cunts... &#x200B; "In the name of Plato, Kant, and Descartes, stand-down!" &#x200B; Speak of the devil. \\\* Would continue if there is interest :D &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;
[WP] The intergalactic community at large, while highly intelligent, never developed any kind of philosophy or spirituality. A five minute conversation with a human on the wrong topic can send most aliens into an existential crisis so severe they go insane. They call us the whispering race.	“Come on, I ain’t got all day” the Golagan mugger said, while pointing his gun at me and at Ryve. It’s been almost four years since I started hitchhiking across the galaxy. Meeting new creatures, planets, cultures... it was awesome, even though I always traveled alone. That changed when I went to Eonus, home-world of the Denn race. The Denns were famous for having the best bars in their solar system (which was immense), so they were always crowded with tourists, hitchhikers, and the like. That’s how I met Ryve. Ryve was a female Fluxan, from Desppot. The Fluxans look remarkably similar to humans - in fact, it wasn’t uncommon that other aliens confused the two - but Fluxans have a skin more pink than humans, varying from baby peach to bubblegum pink. Ryve had peach skin, and violet eyes (like most Fluxans). The only thing unusual about her was her fiery-red hair, which was about as rare for Fluxans as it was for humans. Ryve claims she started talking to me just because she was tired of people coming up and hitting on her, but I know better. She always was the curious type. Though I can’t deny that it wasn’t a good excuse. Aliens felt... uncomfortable around humans. Not exactly afraid (mostly), but no alien would feel safe while talking with a human, and actively starting a conversation? Forget about it. Our reputation didn’t allow it to happen. Sure enough, no other alien so much as looked at her while we were talking. We liked each other’s personalities, and she was also a hitchhiker, so after two lonely years, I finally found a traveling companion. Fast forward to now: we were visiting Foffl, in spite of knowing full well the Golagans as a whole weren’t very hospitable or sympathetic. Their hideous faces made them somewhat of an outcast race among the intergalactic community, so it wasn’t rare to see a criminal Golagan roaming about. Just as we were about to leave, this ass came and cornered us with a gun. “All right, all right. No need for violence.” Ryve said carefully, while slowly pulling her wallet out and giving it to him. I did the same. Most of our money was stored in the intergalactic credit card anyway, which we could disable and transfer to another one as soon as we got away from this stupid planet. “You think I’m stupid? You’re gonna disable this card as soon as you’re outta here” the mugger said angrily. Ryve shrugged. “That’s all we have.” “Oh, I don’t think so.” The Golagan said with an evil smile. Then he pointed the gun at Ryve. “You stay.” “What? What’re you going to do, kidnap her? What will you do then?” I inquired. “Oh, I can think of some things...” the mugger answered with a grin. I suddenly understood what he meant, as did Ryve. “Hey, hold up. You’re not gonna just-“ Ryve started, before getting punched in the face by the Golagan. She was knocked back, falling from the force of the punch. Her nose immediately started bleeding. “Ryve!” “I’m fine. Just... broke my nose” she said groggily, and put her hands over her nose. I could feel the rage building within me. That bastard was gonna pay. “Ryve, white noise.” I said calmly. Thankfully she understood what I meant, she had earphones on for events like those. She tapped them, and they started humming in her ear. She could no longer hear what anyone was saying. I turned to face the Golagan. He was pointing his gun at me. “If you wanna live, you’ll get outta-“ “Y’know, this could be a dream.” “What?” He looked confused. “Everything that’s happening right now... could be just your imagination. There’s no way to prove I exist.” “Wh-what? Of course you exist. I’m seeing you.” “And what does that prove? You could be hallucinating right now, and you’d never know the difference.” “Well... well I-“ “As a matter of fact” I continued, “there’s no way for you to know if anything is real. Maybe you’re the only conscience that exists, and everything you see and feel could be just your mind trying to feel something.” The Golagan wasn’t talking now. He was mesmerized. Grinning, I thought it was almost too easy. He could just shoot me now, but yet he still wants to know where I’m going with this. Aliens are interested in those matters just as humans are, but they can’t handle the existencial crisis. Even Earth scientists can’t say why can humans handle this sort of thing. Is it the structure of the brain? Cultural evolution? Something deeper? Whatever the reason, when humans first tried to have philosophical conversations with aliens, all of them have gone insane. That’s why humans have such a morbid reputation. ‘The whispering race’, they call us. I normally refrain from such cruelty, but this asshole... he’s just asking for it. A pained moan from Ryve reminds me she’s still injured. I feel bad for forgetting her. It’s time to end it. “And from my point of view” I say softly, “You’re a fruit of my imagination, and you can’t prove otherwise.” That’s too much for him to handle. He drops his gun, collapses and starts making incoherent sounds. I signal to Ryve, and she turns the earphones off. I help her get up. “It’s ok. I have medicine... in my backpack” she says while holding her nose. I search it and find an ointment for broken bones. I apply some on her nose after cleaning the blood, and she sighs in relief as the remedy does its magic. In that aspect, humans are very primitive. When making our way to the next planet on that system at the back of a spaceship which agreed to give us a lift, I could see Ryve was barely controlling herself. She knew it was dangerous to talk with me about it, but she was so obviously curious it almost hurt to see her like that. At last, she couldn’t hold herself back. “Ben?” she called, and I looked at her. “Yeah?” “What do you talk about, that’s drives us nuts?” “You know I can’t tell.” “Just the general idea. No details” she implored. I was really hesitant, but... “Well, generally about logic at the edge of science and outside of it.” “Logic outside of science? Where does that come in?” “Philosophy, spirituality, religion... that kind of stuff.” “What’s philosophy?” she asks. “A branch in the study of meaning.” “Meaning? Of what?” “The meaning of existence” I say, uncomfortably. This is getting dangerous. Ryve seems very confused. “Th-the meaning... of existence? But... but how...” she started stuttering. Oh no. “Hey, stop! Snap out of it!” I say, shaking Ryve, but she seems lost in thoughts. I start panicking. “STOP!” I cry, and slap her. She immediately wakes up from the trance, and starts rubbing her cheek. “Ow.” “Sorry, I panicked” I say, embarrassed. “It’s... it’s okay. Thanks” she says. “That was... really weird. You do this all the time in your planet?” “Yeah. We don’t get hypnotized like you, but it confuses even us, sometimes. It’s complicated.” “Damn.” she simply says. After some time, she looks out the window. “Well, that’s our stop. You coming?” “Yeah.”	Cripple 0x44212a4 knew it was over. A fourth escape plan, foiled. And now he was the one blamed. He got his chances and now was being faced with the ultimate punishment. Nobody knew what the government did to the crupples it gave up on. They left to some city and were never heard of again. Most believed that the government had some brain chemical in the city that made the residents slaves. Nobody dared investigate, fearing the same chemicals. And today, 0x44212a4 thought, was his turn to be dosed. The guards who escorted him were normal. The vehicle nondescript. The ride was mundane. Then he entered the city. He sniffed. The air was not different. He looked around. He pondered. He imagined his crimes. Nothing changed. He was escorted out of the car. The office he entered might as well have been for tax collectors. Even the room he was finally deposited at was dull. May be he was to be bored to death? A noble man entered, demonstrating age in his slow gait and his long service for the government with the medals floating just above his head. "Hello Forry." Forry, too used to being 0x44212a4, did not recognize his name. "Hi... Hello, sir." "I am Absey and I am to brief you, briefly, on our stay in Whispille." Forry nodded. "I presume you have heard about the mind control and related nonsense?" Forry nodded sheepishly. "Of course, you'll know that that's all propaganda written to keep people out." Though Forry nodded, Absey did not wait. "If only we administer mind control drugs. The reality is a little more bleak, and such that I cannot explain. You will be given a house, meals, and a holoscreen. Should you try to kill yourself, you will be tied up so that all you can do is observe the screen and write. What we want from you is 10000 words in an alien language. These aliens are top secret residents 4 million light years away. We bend space-time to intercept these broadcasts to ensure that they are not hostile. They are of far superior intellect. Needless to say, this is a dangerous mission, so much so that only wastrels like you are wasted on it. I'll personally show you to your home." Forry remembered this innocence. The thought that he might eventually be free. The thought that he was going to be fed and healthy. The thought that suicide would not occur to him. It was all meaningless, he recalled, passing out from another migraine. Forry blinked. No meaning. None he could describe. He could shout it and only the walls would hear. He tried to starve himself just to get a person to come in so that he could tell them. He passed out. What was good? Was Forry bad? Was Forry? Darkness. Outside was good. Home was good. Not being marked as a cripple was good. It was - another coma. 8980 words. None of them could mean anything. Not to Forry. He shouted again, just in pain and confusion. It had no meaning. Cripple 0x44212a4 knew it was over.
[WP] The intergalactic community at large, while highly intelligent, never developed any kind of philosophy or spirituality. A five minute conversation with a human on the wrong topic can send most aliens into an existential crisis so severe they go insane. They call us the whispering race.	“Come on, I ain’t got all day” the Golagan mugger said, while pointing his gun at me and at Ryve. It’s been almost four years since I started hitchhiking across the galaxy. Meeting new creatures, planets, cultures... it was awesome, even though I always traveled alone. That changed when I went to Eonus, home-world of the Denn race. The Denns were famous for having the best bars in their solar system (which was immense), so they were always crowded with tourists, hitchhikers, and the like. That’s how I met Ryve. Ryve was a female Fluxan, from Desppot. The Fluxans look remarkably similar to humans - in fact, it wasn’t uncommon that other aliens confused the two - but Fluxans have a skin more pink than humans, varying from baby peach to bubblegum pink. Ryve had peach skin, and violet eyes (like most Fluxans). The only thing unusual about her was her fiery-red hair, which was about as rare for Fluxans as it was for humans. Ryve claims she started talking to me just because she was tired of people coming up and hitting on her, but I know better. She always was the curious type. Though I can’t deny that it wasn’t a good excuse. Aliens felt... uncomfortable around humans. Not exactly afraid (mostly), but no alien would feel safe while talking with a human, and actively starting a conversation? Forget about it. Our reputation didn’t allow it to happen. Sure enough, no other alien so much as looked at her while we were talking. We liked each other’s personalities, and she was also a hitchhiker, so after two lonely years, I finally found a traveling companion. Fast forward to now: we were visiting Foffl, in spite of knowing full well the Golagans as a whole weren’t very hospitable or sympathetic. Their hideous faces made them somewhat of an outcast race among the intergalactic community, so it wasn’t rare to see a criminal Golagan roaming about. Just as we were about to leave, this ass came and cornered us with a gun. “All right, all right. No need for violence.” Ryve said carefully, while slowly pulling her wallet out and giving it to him. I did the same. Most of our money was stored in the intergalactic credit card anyway, which we could disable and transfer to another one as soon as we got away from this stupid planet. “You think I’m stupid? You’re gonna disable this card as soon as you’re outta here” the mugger said angrily. Ryve shrugged. “That’s all we have.” “Oh, I don’t think so.” The Golagan said with an evil smile. Then he pointed the gun at Ryve. “You stay.” “What? What’re you going to do, kidnap her? What will you do then?” I inquired. “Oh, I can think of some things...” the mugger answered with a grin. I suddenly understood what he meant, as did Ryve. “Hey, hold up. You’re not gonna just-“ Ryve started, before getting punched in the face by the Golagan. She was knocked back, falling from the force of the punch. Her nose immediately started bleeding. “Ryve!” “I’m fine. Just... broke my nose” she said groggily, and put her hands over her nose. I could feel the rage building within me. That bastard was gonna pay. “Ryve, white noise.” I said calmly. Thankfully she understood what I meant, she had earphones on for events like those. She tapped them, and they started humming in her ear. She could no longer hear what anyone was saying. I turned to face the Golagan. He was pointing his gun at me. “If you wanna live, you’ll get outta-“ “Y’know, this could be a dream.” “What?” He looked confused. “Everything that’s happening right now... could be just your imagination. There’s no way to prove I exist.” “Wh-what? Of course you exist. I’m seeing you.” “And what does that prove? You could be hallucinating right now, and you’d never know the difference.” “Well... well I-“ “As a matter of fact” I continued, “there’s no way for you to know if anything is real. Maybe you’re the only conscience that exists, and everything you see and feel could be just your mind trying to feel something.” The Golagan wasn’t talking now. He was mesmerized. Grinning, I thought it was almost too easy. He could just shoot me now, but yet he still wants to know where I’m going with this. Aliens are interested in those matters just as humans are, but they can’t handle the existencial crisis. Even Earth scientists can’t say why can humans handle this sort of thing. Is it the structure of the brain? Cultural evolution? Something deeper? Whatever the reason, when humans first tried to have philosophical conversations with aliens, all of them have gone insane. That’s why humans have such a morbid reputation. ‘The whispering race’, they call us. I normally refrain from such cruelty, but this asshole... he’s just asking for it. A pained moan from Ryve reminds me she’s still injured. I feel bad for forgetting her. It’s time to end it. “And from my point of view” I say softly, “You’re a fruit of my imagination, and you can’t prove otherwise.” That’s too much for him to handle. He drops his gun, collapses and starts making incoherent sounds. I signal to Ryve, and she turns the earphones off. I help her get up. “It’s ok. I have medicine... in my backpack” she says while holding her nose. I search it and find an ointment for broken bones. I apply some on her nose after cleaning the blood, and she sighs in relief as the remedy does its magic. In that aspect, humans are very primitive. When making our way to the next planet on that system at the back of a spaceship which agreed to give us a lift, I could see Ryve was barely controlling herself. She knew it was dangerous to talk with me about it, but she was so obviously curious it almost hurt to see her like that. At last, she couldn’t hold herself back. “Ben?” she called, and I looked at her. “Yeah?” “What do you talk about, that’s drives us nuts?” “You know I can’t tell.” “Just the general idea. No details” she implored. I was really hesitant, but... “Well, generally about logic at the edge of science and outside of it.” “Logic outside of science? Where does that come in?” “Philosophy, spirituality, religion... that kind of stuff.” “What’s philosophy?” she asks. “A branch in the study of meaning.” “Meaning? Of what?” “The meaning of existence” I say, uncomfortably. This is getting dangerous. Ryve seems very confused. “Th-the meaning... of existence? But... but how...” she started stuttering. Oh no. “Hey, stop! Snap out of it!” I say, shaking Ryve, but she seems lost in thoughts. I start panicking. “STOP!” I cry, and slap her. She immediately wakes up from the trance, and starts rubbing her cheek. “Ow.” “Sorry, I panicked” I say, embarrassed. “It’s... it’s okay. Thanks” she says. “That was... really weird. You do this all the time in your planet?” “Yeah. We don’t get hypnotized like you, but it confuses even us, sometimes. It’s complicated.” “Damn.” she simply says. After some time, she looks out the window. “Well, that’s our stop. You coming?” “Yeah.”	Xd> shut its eyes and tried to picture its home. “I can no longer abide these creatures,” it thought to itself. It was normally considered a patient being, but facing humans had become so tiresome that Xd> felt it needed to forsake its duty and simply rest a while. “Ex-dee-sheeww. Wake up over there. We have 14 more gardenias to plant.” Xd>’s boss, Cathy, shouted. Cathy’s face was weathered from years of landscaping work. Her heavy jaw, leathery skin, and piercing grey eyes seemed formidable, but she was truly a softy. She had adopted three misfit Trogolins--the Earthling name for the aliens who had become marooned on Earth in the “UFO Incident of 2052”--and had tried to teach them her trade. They didn’t take to it right away. They were a strange peoples who seemed to view the world the way a computer might. Or so it seemed to her. “Oh, not now,” Cathy mumbled to herself. Xs\[\[ was toppled over in the grass, leaking a beige substance onto the newly-planted spray-rosebush. “Ex-ess-dih-dih, what on Earth do you think you’re doing?” Sometimes I think these Troggies are a bit more trouble’n they’re worth. She bit her tongue. Hard. Not nice, Cathy. They are so far from home. You’re just a few miles away from your TV and your delicious Insta-Cook Escargots and your Tempurpedic bed. They are at least 44 billion miles (or was it light years? She could never remember the difference) away from all they...loved...or...at least...liked? The truth is, Cathy wasn’t sure what the Trogolins thought about anything. They didn’t, as a rule, express themselves much. And Cathy had learned that it was dangerous to tempt one towards self-reflection. So, when she asked Xs\[\[ what it thought it was doing--rather, what on Earth it thought it was doing--she didn’t realize that she had gone too far. A wild screeching sound interrupted Cathy’s pruning of the nearest newly-planted gardenia bush. She looked around wildly, feeling as though a tornado might be barreling through at any moment. Instead, she saw Xd> float up to her right side and felt, rather than heard, it say, “Boss Cath-ee. You have found us amusement for days and perhaps years on Planet One-One-Seven, Earth, but with this question you have gone far too far. We do not know what we are doing on One-One-Seven. We may no longer be near your body, as your body’s brain seems to create torture-puzzles for our peoples. Xs\[\[ is leaking life force because of your body’s brain. We leave now.” Cathy scowled, confused and hurt by her friend? or her employee’s? words. “Well, okay Ex-Dee-Sheeww, but where are you going to go now?” Xd> processed her last question. Where. Now. Go. Now. Where. Now. Now. “Nooowwww” Cathy heard it hiss as it, and its two companions, Xd\[\[ and fFf\^, started to sink into her client’s grass. She finally heard a POP when the three beings fully disappeared. What the… She looked around and saw that the colors of the flowers were brighter, the willow tree was swaying even without any wind, and the koi fish in the pond were all staring at her. On the ground she saw three old smartphones, and no sign of her friends. “Aw hell. I need a beer.”
[WP] A vampire sneezed. I blessed him. He burst into flames. I'm now a vampire hunter. I didn't ask for this.	That was last month. Three weeks ago, I stopped a werewolf when I dropped my lunch. Turns out grapes are bad for dogs? I guess. I'm no vet. Maybe she just choked on one. Then there was the mummy two weeks ago. My cat attacked him, knocking him back at the same time I was stumbling into the ritual torch stand. Fire apparently works well on them. Last week, a mad scientist made an abomination, a living flesh jigsaw. I was dealing with a clogged sink in the upstairs bathroom, and bumped the clog dissolver out the window. Turns out, dumping that on someone covered in poorly stitched wounds is a great way to kill them. Now, the city council has called for my help on planning for a zombie invasion, and I have no clue what to say beyond trying to convince them it's all a fluke. My luck is going to run out at some point, but I'd rather that not happen while my brain's on the line.	I was sitting in a weathered bar. The floorboards creaked, the corners had water marks dripping down them and the tables had been scarred with knives for years. But it was home to me. I was sitting at the bar with a pint in one hand and a garlic bread in the other. They made an amazing cheesy garlic bread. That's when he stood at the doorstep and peered inside. He knocked a couple times and spoke in a posh, dragged out voice, "Hello? Are you open for business?" That's when I got a good look at him. He had the palest skin I had ever seen, so pale that you should have been able to see the blood flowing through his veins. His long cape followed behind him like a posse with the collar up. ON top of his bald head he wore a tall hat. His pale, blue eyes sweeping the room. The barkeep looked at me as if he was saying, \_What's the deal with this guy\_ before inviting him in. "Thank you, sir," he spoke as he entered the bar. He passed me and wrinkled his nose at disgust. "What a wanker," I told my garlic bread. The man sat as far away from me as he could possibly sit, before staring directly at me with hate in his eyes. "You right there mate?" I sneered at him and looked directly into his red eyes. \_Red?\_ My eyes widened as I realized this. "What the fuck are you?" I panickedly asked. I could already feel the sweat starting to pour down my face as a lump formed in my throat. "I am Count Azazel, and you shall die for yo-ACHOO" he violently sneezed. Out of habit, I said, "Bless you." Panic filled his eyes as he realized the implications of what I had just said. "No, No, NO NO!" he screamed as smoke began to rise from his hand. He desperately began to pat himself down in an attempt to tame the flames, but it proved too much for him and he succumbed to his fate. "What in Mary's name happened?" the barkeep asked nervously. Before I could make a sorry attempt of explaining, three people with matching black jackets burst through the door with water guns drawn. "Where is the foul beast?" asked the one in the middle with a long scar down his face. I used my shaking hands to point towards the pile of ash. "it's dead," proclaimed the one on the left, "how?" "He sneezed and I blessed him and then he exploded and I need a drink," I stammered as sat back down in my stool. "Ahh, I know what you are, you're a hunter like us, blending in excellently with the population to fool the vampires," said the middle one with respect in voice. "What are you on about?" I asked him, confused as hell. "You can drop the disguise now, it's just us. Come now, we must have a drink and then we'll head back to base." "But I'm not a hunter..." "Sure you aren't, and Toby over here killed three vampires with one stake." &#x200B; Please criticize and correct me. There may be formatting issues.
[WP] Inspired by their lack of a reflection and ability to see in the dark, you convince your vampire friend to enter a box lined with mirrors to find out what he can see. When the door closes, he begins to scream.	I threw the door open and he looked through me with a 1000-yard stare. "What did you see, Al?" I prodded. "I saw... infinity." he whispered. "You mean like when I look in a mirror, I see an infinite number of myself?" He looked to me and frowned. He pulled me into the box and pointed to one of the walls. "What do you see?" he hissed. I saw myself. Then another one behind him, looking at another one of me and so on and so on. "An infinite amount of me--" "No!!" he cried. He pointed a sharp finger at my reflection. "Count them," he ordered plainly. "What?" "Count. Them. They're finite. You can only see so far before you get in your own way." "That doesn't make any sense," I shook my head, followed by 100s of my other selves doing the same. "Then count them. If you get to 1000, I'll give you $100." I opened my mouth, then closed it, deciding the $100 would be worth as much as the bragging rights I'd earn. I counted under my breath for a couple seconds and slowly stopped and tried stooping my head. "What are you doing?" Al asked slyly. "I'm just trying to..." I didn't want to finish the sentence. "Get out of your own way?" he offered. I turned away from the mirror, and conceded, "I couldn't get past 70." "Mmmm," he looked across the mirrors. "Then what exactly did you see?" I pried. "Infinity!!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "I could see in every direction with no limitation. It wasn't like sitting with my eyes closed, or looking at the stars. I could see everything. It was overwhelming. I witnessed history and the future." "Wait, did you see an expanse of infinity or the past and future?" "Infinity encompasses all of that! It was everything and more! I can unlock the secrets of the universe." I looked over to the box, unable to think of the possibilities that lied within it. "The secrets of the universe are in this box..." I went up to touch it with the respect it deserved. I heard Al giggling behind me. "What?" I demanded. "I lied, man. It's just a box of mirrors."	AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Fredric threw himself through the door to the mirror box, letting out a scream I can only describe as primal. He fell on his back and scrambled away, never taking his eyes off the door. A look of purest terror painted his pale face. His back hit the wall, but he kept pushing away with his feet as if he hoped to will himself through the sheetrock. Unsure how to help him, I instinctively rushed to the door of the box and shut it. "NO," Fredrick screamed like a terrified child, "LIGHT! LIGHT! LIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!" I fumbled with my phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it into the box. Of course all I could see was a million versions of my self, each greener than the last. I looked back to see Fredrick dashing across my parent's garage to their bin of camping supplies. He knew the contents well--Fredrick had gone with us on an expedition through the Flint Ridge Cave System the summer before we started at college. Camping can be tricky with a vampire, but the caves fit the bill perfectly. Fredrick dug through the bin like a madman and, in a moment, emerged with an electric lantern. He switched it on, ran over to the box and, pushing me aside, set the lamp in the middle before slamming shut the door and collapsing on the floor. The hairs on the back of my neck stood tall. Their brothers on my arms did the same. "What did you see?" He looked into my eyes and I saw pure terror. "Demons," he said, "ravenous demons." "What? Frederic, no, there's no such . . . ." "DAMN IT ROB I FUCKING SAW THEM! I KNEW WHAT THEY WERE THE MOMENT I SAW THEM!" "Really. What exactly does a demon look like?" "I can't describe them," he said, catching his breath. They didn't have a form. It wasn't like seeing something like a man or a tree. They were just . . . there. Swirling clouds of hate and rage and jealousy and hunger. Hunger for my soul." He looked up at me, tears in his eyes. "They're right, Rob," he sobbed, "this isn't right. It's a curse. I need to break it, and I need your help."
[WP] You are 20 and just found out you have one year left to live. Your best friend takes the next year off of from college and shares their savings to travel the world with you. Your stories become widely talked about across the globe.	I was given a choice. Either lay down and die slowly or die on my own terms. There was no real in between. I had been diagnosed with a progressive genetic disorder, the doctors thought it was a miracle I was alive until now. Still, as I read over the list of medicine I would be taking every day for the rest of my life I wanted to cry. The doctors had written me off well before I had thrown in the towel. I would show them. I would show the world that I was the best damn thing they never got to meet. When I had first talked to my parents about my diagnosis my mother had cried. She had always been a very religious woman. Me, not so much. Still, she would never see grandchildren from me. She would never see anything remotely close to the future she thought we were going to have. The diagnosis had taken those chains away and shackled me with still more. Dad, well, he looked at me in the way only a father can. When he reached out and hugged me I wanted to be five years old again waiting for him to walk through the door. I wanted to be Daddy's little girl again. He kissed my forehead and just held me for a while until I couldn't take it anymore. I was trying to make this easy on them. Instead we were all crying our eyes out. Not that I really had many tears. Dry eyes were one of the side effects of the medicine I was taking. That and my hair was falling out. I'd be bald by next spring, if I lived that long. My parent's drove me to the airport. There was a clinical trial that I was supposed to be examined for on the east coast. A wonder drug that could save me. I wasn't holding my breath. Brandon was waiting for me at check in. He had agreed, begrudgingly, to accompany me. We had known each other for years, but each time we talked about the issue he seemed to grow more distant. I can't say I blame him. "Are you sure you have everything you need?" Mom asked for the twentieth time before stepping back. I had expected this conversation when I finally decided to start college. Now, it seemed like we were both at a loss for the right things to say. "I have everything I'll need. I'm sure the TSA guys are going to be confused as hell at all the bottles." I tried to smile. I tried to lift the mood, but it wasn't in me to say I would be alright. We hugged again and my dad almost had to pull my mom back to the car. I saw in his face that he didn't want to say goodbye either. My dad, a man of few words. He'd spoken even fewer since the day of my diagnosis. The trip through security was somewhat eventful. The screener pulled me aside for a pat down and got a little feely. I would have slapped him if I had the energy. That or he would have gotten a squirrel tap if I was really feeling evil. No, I think he realized something was off when I didn't respond to him. Took the fun out of it for him probably. We drifted to the terminal after that, and then onto the flight. Everything was going smoothly. Too smoothly to be honest. We landed and were about to get in the car when Brandon finally took me by the shoulders and shook me. Really shook me. "Wake up Mary. This isn't you!" I wanted to slap him. What the fuck did he know about me. I was a dead woman walking. "Fucking hell, you need to get a grip. You've taken on worse than this and come out of it." Now I wanted to punch him instead. "Drop it Brandon." There was a certain ice in my tone. I sort of liked it. It reminded me of my mom when she was truly angry. "No." I turned to face Brandon then. His face was a mask that I couldn't read, which was surprising since he wore his emotions on his sleeve most of the time. "I'm not going to let you just walk away from this and consign yourself to death. We have a year left. Let's make it a year to remember!" There was a passion in his voice. One I didn't recognize. The next thing I knew I was being dragged through the baggage exchange towards the international terminal. When had Brandon gotten a hold of my passport? It took a little less time than I realized for us to be in the air to England. "How much of this did you have planned?" I asked. "More than you think, less than you're assuming." Brandon's response was what I expected if nothing else. It had been 6:30 Pm when we left and it was almost 6:30 am when we arrived. Strange how a six hour flight took so much longer. Curiouser still that I didn't feel robbed for time. At some point during the flight Brandon had fallen asleep, his head resting on my shoulder. I wanted to stroke his hair and tease him. I also wanted to tell him to get a fucking pillow. The fog in London was thick. Thicker still were people's accents. Depending on who you talked to you would get an asshole that didn't care for polite conversation, or an asshole that only cared for polite conversation. Either way, I was losing my interest in the British hunks very quickly. I let Brandon lead me through the city. At this point I had been up for almost twenty-four hours and was starting to feel tired. Well, I was always tired, but I was finally feeling like I could sleep. Insomnia had been my enemy since before I was diagnosed. "We'll be at the hostel soon. Tomorrow we'll be in France. After that we'll see how things go." France? "Huh?" That was about as articulate a response as I could provide. I had been to France a few times. I had loved it as a child though I wasn't allowed to drink. Even though I was legal by local standards, Mom never let us try alcohol. "You're getting lost in the past again." Brandon observed. "You try thinking about the present when you're this tired." The fog of the city had wrapped around us even as we walked into the doors of the "Hostel". A portly woman met us. She was wiping the sleep from her eyes, even as she ushered us inside. It quickly became clear that this wasn't a hostel. A warm meal was laid out for us within a few minutes of us walking through the door. After that our hostess disappeared into the house. The food was delicious. At least, I think it was. I fell asleep after a few bites. It was around 10 am when Brandon woke me up. It was still sinking in that we were in England of all places. "Hell." I muttered as I got up to take care of my morning business. I hadn't planned on any of this. I would need to pick up some things from the local convenience store. I needed some coffee, maybe some energy drinks, preferably a beer. A quick shower later and we were at the table. The matron was there with us. She was pulling some biscuits out of the oven. The eggs were already on the plate and the gravy was simmering on the stove. I don't think I could have had a more English breakfast. "Shit on a shingle." The hostess's accent cut through the silence. I was laughing. Snorting I looked over at her. She had the most innocent look on her face. "What, just because you Yankees have a magically polite name doesn't change what it is." I shut my gob after that and worked on filling my stomach. Brandon had joined us at some point. He was watching this whole thing with a little wry smile. It wasn't like him. Then again, doing things like this was completely out of character for him too. "What are you staring out?" My words were cutting, though they didn't really seem to bite. He continued to smile and just kept eating his brunch. After that we went sightseeing. We lived out the next few hours like that. I tried to get the guards at the palace to react, and truly lived every stereotype I could think of. It was refreshing to not think about the terrible things that lurked inside me. Every night we had a refreshingly British meal with our hostess. It was odd though, she kept refusing to tell me her name. I gave up on it after a while. I didn't have time to think about it. I was sure I would be going back to the States soon anyway. It was easier to not make the connections that she represented. At least, that's what I told myself. We missed our original train, but a Brandon got us on the next days. Brandon informed me that we were moving on later that morning. We boarded the Euorstar and were on our way to France. It wasn't the cross country train trip that I had on my bucket list, but it was a nice facsimile. When we arrived in France proper we moved to find a car. It took some wrangling to get everything approved, but before long we were on our way towards Paris. We also blew straight through Paris. We continued to drive into the afternoon, then the evening before we finally stopped for the night. Brandon wouldn't tell me the destination of our trip. He seemed like the cat that had caught the canary with this whole thing. He knew I hated surprises. He also knew that he would pay for this later. We stopped at a very nice restaurant and the staff was incredibly attentive. It felt weird to be in such a great place dressed in a sweatshirt and yoga pants. Brandon and the staff didn't seem to care though. If anything, they went out of their way to make sure that no one criticized us. We did receive a few glares. Those that spoke up were intercepted by the staff and a quiet conversation was had. The French was too rapid for me to ever hope to follow, but the looks on their face told me plenty. It went from outrage to pity. I hate being pitied. After the bill was settled we left, but not before a portly gentleman came out and gave us a bottle. Leroy Chambertain, it read. I couldn't figure out the rest. The collective grasps from the room made me feel like I had received something truly special, though I didn't know what it was. The following day we continued on the road until we arrived in Nice. It was beautiful. Brandon let it slip that we would be catching a ship nearby and heading to Rome! What the hell was going on? Between the wine and the ship it felt more like a honeymoon than anything else. Author's note: I'm sort of researching as I go on destinations and paths for things. I may add more to this story tomorrow. I have a sort of plan for what is going to happen throughout.	I stood at the podium. Friends, family and fans crowded the room. Several cameras pointed at me. There were TV logos on microphones in front of me. "Twelve months ago," I stopped. I took a deep breath, swallowed and started again. "Last Halloween my best friend Terri walked into our Dr to get the results to my cancer screening. I was too scared to do it myself. It was back. I had twelve months to live. I didn't want details. I didn't question it." The room shuffled. There was a murmer from our fans. "In middle school we always promised if we got sick that we would drop everything and travel. Best friends, til death do us part." "I never knew Terri meant it literally until she dragged me to the court house. 'You're living a full life in the next twelve months boy.' And we did." I told our story to the crowd who had come to welcome us home. How it started as a blog to keep our family up to date. Then there was the unexpected pregnancy, the explosion of support when a Mommy Blogger retweeted a pregnancy shot in the Himalayan mountains. Then finally the birth of our daughter, and the truth about my diagnosis. It was never mine." "I named our daughter Terri," I placed a hand on the casket, "After her mother, who knew how to live a full life in her remaining twelve months."
[WP] You are 20 and just found out you have one year left to live. Your best friend takes the next year off of from college and shares their savings to travel the world with you. Your stories become widely talked about across the globe.	"Why didn't you convince me not to do this?" Tom stared at the revolver in the other man's hand. The first participant of the russian roulette pulled the trigger to a resounding Click and sighed in relief as he passed it to Tom. &#x200B; "Because you're dying in less than a year and I wasn't going to stop you from doing anything?" Rich looked at the gun that Tom was now holding. He thought it was a .44 Magnum, but that's only because it sort of looked like the gun from Dirty Harry. Before the last three months, all of his knowledge of firearms had come from Hollywood movies. What he had learned about guns in the last three months of traveling the world would last him for the rest of his life. More so if the rest of his life only lasted for the rest of the night. &#x200B; Rich took the gun that had been placed in front of him and spun the revolving cylinder that held one bullet. The small group of people, who had shown up to make side bets on the outcome of each trigger pull, moved out of the way as Rich put the gun to the side of his head. He tried to remember that if he died today he would only be missing out on six more months of dying of cancer. &#x200B; He pulled the trigger. &#x200B; Click. &#x200B; The crowd behind him screamed in excitement. &#x200B; "Yeah!" Tom shouted from behind him, "You just won me five hundred bucks!" &#x200B; Rich put the gun on the table and passed it to the next person at the table, an older looking asian gentlemen wearing a headband emblazoned with the rising sun of the Japanese flag. It took him multiple tries as his nervous sweating had caught up with him and his hand kept slipping off of the gun. &#x200B; "You made a bet on me Tom? That's sweet." Rich said. &#x200B; Tom was about to respond before a teenage girl grabbed and caught Tom and Rich's attention. The youth was squealing in excitement and holding a phone up. Rich looked at the screen and saw a photo of them from earlier in the week base jumping from Taipei 101, the tallest building in the country of Taiwan. &#x200B; "Another fan?" Rich asked. &#x200B; After screaming excitedly in her native language for a second she said in English, with some effort, "Picture?" &#x200B; Tom looked at him and smiled, "Gotta give them what they want..." &#x200B; The young girl smiled as the three of them scrunched their faces together to fit inside the camera on the front of her phone. As she clicked the camera button the three of them heard a loud bang directly behind. The three turned around in unison to find the man with the Japanese headband holding the gun straight at the ceiling. The barrel had a small cloud of gunsmoke still hanging at the tip of the barrell. &#x200B; The crowd booed at the old man as he set the gun on the table. &#x200B; "I think that's against the rules." Tom said. &#x200B; "We should get out of here..." Rich said in response. He was staring over the heads of the crowd that was gathered around the table, "There's two big burly guys coming our way." &#x200B; Tom knew they weren't coming for him but it seemed the rest of the crowd had the good sense to start rushing out of the room in the other direction. In just another second Tom could see the two muscled men pushing their way through the panicked crowd. &#x200B; "This way!" The young woman said in her accented voice and grabbed both Tom and Rich as she stepped to the side of the panicked crowd, dragging them in a grip tight enough to surprise both of them, and moved them toward an unmarked door that the crowd had been avoiding as an escape. &#x200B; "I don't think that's the--" Tom said, but was interrupted. &#x200B; "This way!" She yelled again. She let go of both of them and opened the door. It became immediately obvious why the other patrons had avoided it as it opened into the kitchen of the restaurant they were currently in the backroom of. The only other person in the kitchen besides them was a large man cutting vegetables with a large chef's knife. &#x200B; The big man turned his head and looked at them. He yelled at the three of them in what Tom assumed was Chinese. The girl shouted back in the same language but the two non-Chinese speakers both picked up their names in whatever she had yelled at the cook. &#x200B; The burly man looked at both of them. He frowned for a second, then his eyes lit up as he seemed to recognize them. &#x200B; "My bet's on the bear fight in Washington." Rich said quickly as he saw the cook put the knife down and reach for the phone in his pocket. &#x200B; Tom looked at the cook as he scrambled inside his many pockets, "I got a hundred bucks on when we were chased out of Angkor Wat." &#x200B; Rich looked at him cockeyed. &#x200B; "That super old temple where those Buddhist Monks were chasing us?" &#x200B; Rich still looked confused. &#x200B; "You were caught pissing on some sort of tree? It was growing out of the temple and shit." &#x200B; "Ah yeah..." Rich finally seemed to remember what he was talking about. Tom couldn't blame him for not remembering it at first. Both of them had been in the middle of a wicked acid trip. &#x200B; The cook had finally gotten his phone out and was pressing at the screen as he approached Tom and Rich. Before he even turned the phone around Tom could already hear the beginning of the video that had been showed to them in excitement at least fifty times in the past month. &#x200B; "You owe me one hundred bucks!" Rich said in triumph. &#x200B; Tom sighed as the cook excitedly turned his phone around to show them the video he already knew was playing. It had been taken near the beginning of their trip when they were still in the United States. Tom and Rich had been partying it up with a group of rednecks in the middle of the woods when the black bear had showed when no one noticed and began messing with their keg of beer. &#x200B; This being the beginning of their trip and his cancer diagnosis, had spent the last three days on the longest bender of his life and wouldn't let a goddamn black bear ruin it. &#x200B; And the video showed a drunken Tom tackling the black bear off of the keg and into a tree. The bear tried to swipe at him with his paws and got a good claw across the front of his chest. The recovering skin on his chest tingled as he watched the drunken version of himself shrug off the claw attack and begin punching the bear in the face. &#x200B; The cook looked at Tom with awe, "Bear fighter!" &#x200B; "That's me." He responded. That video was the first one they had posted that earned them over a million views between facebook and Instagram. &#x200B; The cook held his phone up with the back camera facing towards them. &#x200B; "No." Tom said. &#x200B; The cook looked from his phone to them in confusion. &#x200B; "All of us." Tom pointed to the cook and the both of them. &#x200B; "Me too!" The girl said from behind Tom. He had forgotten she was there. &#x200B; The cook looked...bashful? &#x200B; "No..." The cook said. &#x200B; "Yes!" Rich said and moved to the cook's side, motioning for the girl and him to join them. &#x200B; All four moved close enough to fit into the camera on the cook's phone. They smiled and heard the click of the phone camera. The three of them waved at the cook as they moved through the kitchen and out to the exit behind the back of the restaurant. The girl ran down the small alley that led back to the main street. &#x200B; "You coming?" The girl asked the both of them. &#x200B; Tom looked at Rich, "More adventure?" &#x200B; Rich looked back at him, "I don't know. I was hoping to catch up on my book." &#x200B; Tom slanted his head sideways in confusion. &#x200B; Rich smiled back, "I'm fucking with you man. Of course I'm up for more adventure." &#x200B; Tom smiled at him. From fighting bears in Washington to trying to break into the Great Pyramid of Giza, the only constant in Tom's life for the past six months had been the call to adventure. &#x200B; And the company of his best friend alongside him for the ride. &#x200B; r/cawdor23	I stood at the podium. Friends, family and fans crowded the room. Several cameras pointed at me. There were TV logos on microphones in front of me. "Twelve months ago," I stopped. I took a deep breath, swallowed and started again. "Last Halloween my best friend Terri walked into our Dr to get the results to my cancer screening. I was too scared to do it myself. It was back. I had twelve months to live. I didn't want details. I didn't question it." The room shuffled. There was a murmer from our fans. "In middle school we always promised if we got sick that we would drop everything and travel. Best friends, til death do us part." "I never knew Terri meant it literally until she dragged me to the court house. 'You're living a full life in the next twelve months boy.' And we did." I told our story to the crowd who had come to welcome us home. How it started as a blog to keep our family up to date. Then there was the unexpected pregnancy, the explosion of support when a Mommy Blogger retweeted a pregnancy shot in the Himalayan mountains. Then finally the birth of our daughter, and the truth about my diagnosis. It was never mine." "I named our daughter Terri," I placed a hand on the casket, "After her mother, who knew how to live a full life in her remaining twelve months."
[WP] In a modern world where magic exists, you are a retail employee at a store that sells magical items. Tells us some of your customer experiences.	TL;DR: I maliciously complied with an asshat supervisor and watched a waddle of penguins terrorize customers. &#x200B; This Malicious Compliance happened a few years ago, and I’m changing the name of the store. So this day started off like any other. I walked into Dacy’s at the local mall, ready to start my shift. I had just started working part time for the Christmas season, and as yet I’m still in training. So I walk in and I’m greeted by the most pretentious ass hat manager I’ve ever met. I’ll call her PAH for short. I’ve heard stories about PAH, even though this was my first time working directly with her. Someone must have peed in her corn flakes that morning, because she HATED me. She explained to me how she single-handedly (yeah, right), turned HER department into the best of the store, and that the store manager personally commended her. After a few more minutes of her kissing her own ass, it became apparent I was simply another part timer sent to mess up her area. For some reason, part timers were the scum of the Earth. I later found out PAH is notorious for getting part-timers fired, which really highlights her personality. PAH sets me onto my first task, setting up a display of these perpetual snow clouds. I have to admit, they are pretty cool. They float there with ACTUAL snow falling. Even better, the snow is enhanced so that it doesn’t immediately melt, so these clouds can be lots of fun in the winter. And this was right near the display of magic penguin figurines. Those things would become real for about 30 minutes when they got cold enough. I don’t know if non-retailers know this, but there are certain rules concerning the magic items (at least, in this store there are). First, all employees must be signed-off before they can touch anything remotely magical. Without that paper, an employee cannot even enter the magic section. No exceptions. The second rule is that all magic items remain in the designated magic section. This section has protective wards in place to contain any catastrophic issues. Setting up a magic display outside the designated area, without explicit, written permission from the store manager was grounds for immediate termination. So I explain to her, politely, that I thought it would be a bad idea to have snow clouds so close to those penguins. She counters that the clouds are tethered in place, and she personally set up special wards on that display area which would contain the snow. I held my ground, and asked to see the written permission from the store manager. PAH sneered, threatening to revoke my magic permissions. As a manager, she’s allowed to do this of course, which means I would have to complete the 2 day training all over, and I would undergo a review. That was preferable to being fired outright, so I still refused. She left and returned a few minutes later with her favorite employee, BN (short for brown-noser), along with my paper which was now stamped “REVOKED” in big red letters with her signature. BN proceeded to set up the display, while she had me straighten out some clothes nearby. By now, you must be wondering where the malicious compliance occurs. Well, about an hour after BN set up the display, a few kids start playing by it. I politely ask them to stop, but they ignore me and end up dislodging some of the clouds. They squeal in delight as the clouds float away, leaving a nice trail of snow on the ground. Now, my ability to clean this has been revoked, so I high-tail it looking for PAH. Not surprisingly, she’s at lunch, so I talk to BN. She decides that the snow is not an emergency, since it will melt quickly enough and doesn’t create ice. So I go back to the area. One of the clouds is drifting to the penguin display. I knew what was about to happen. A chill of anticipation ran up my spine. Lo and behold, the cloud got stuck on the nearby display of mini penguins. Well, guess what. The snow caused the penguins to begin to transform. All 20 of them. These weren’t the cute little penguins either, but the 6 foot tall Emperor penguins. In no time at all, we had a waddle of penguins walking around the aisles. Customers were panicking, penguins were screaming and chasing each other, one even laid an egg! It was glorious! It didn’t take long for BN to come tearing over to me with PAH in tow. “Why didn’t you stop it? Do you know how much this will cost in damages?” PAH said, exasperated. I couldn’t hide my grin as I said “Sorry, I’m not allowed to touch magic.” &#x200B; Edit: As far as I know, PAH was ultimately blamed for the fiasco and was fired. I was terminated because of that review. No worries, I found a much better job a week later. :)	"Melody to Wands and Staves, Melody to Wands and Staves." The voice crackled in Melody's brain, causing the hairs to stand up on the back of her neck. She shuddered involuntarily. It always felt invasive to receive an unexpected Message, but it was undeniably convenient. "I'll be right there. I'm over in Spellbooks and Scrolls, so gimme a second," Melody thought in response, her message telepathically transmitted to her notoriously impatient manager Randy. Melody dropped the broom and dustpan she was carrying and snapped her fingers. The broom leapt from the floor, eagerly beginning its work of scooping the bits of broken glass and dried herbs, mushrooms, and assorted magical debris littering the aisle. Someone had dropped an entire portable Alchemist's Lab, scattering its components all over the floor. Melody peeled some crushed Wolfsbane on the bottom of her shoe, silently reminding herself not to shake hands with any lycanthropes before she could wash up. Melody briskly made her way down the aisle. Cutting through Aisle 16, Magical Electronics, would be the quickest way to her destination. Melody silently prayed she wouldn't be stopped by any customers en route, lest she face the wrath of her least favorite middle manager mage. She crept past a rotund, confused looking Warlock, careful not to step on his robes as he perplexedly compared two electronic Spell Compendiums ('For the Mage on the Go!'). "Guess even the Great Old One runs on iOS these days," Melody thought. Finally, she found herself in Aisle 14, Wands and Staves, and she was face to face with a beet red Randy. This was not unusual, considering Randy was an Efreeti, but on this occasion, he looked especially heated. Melody noticed that the tail of his dress shirt was scorched in several places, and a thin, black trail of smoke billowed out of each of his nostrils. Standing behind Randy, nearly eclipsed by Randy's towering form, was an equally incensed, elderly human woman, glaring at Melody through rune-inscribed eyeglasses. "Melody," Randy bellowed through gritted teeth, the stench of acrid smoke filling Melody's nose, "this... customer.... is having trouble finding a Staff of Unending Agony. Could you help her locate one?" "Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am. The Staves of Unending Agony were all recalled last week," Melody said, bracing herself for a torrent of unreasonable anger. "What? Why?!" Screeched the old woman, shuffling out from behind Randy to reveal the entirety of her nearly four foot frame, clad in a set of wizard robes decorated with a garish floral pattern. "Well, apparently a lot of customers were experiencing frequent outages in the Agony output. So... it was more like a Staff of Occasional Agony," Melody said, punctuating her lighthearted response with a half-grin that quickly withered beneath the scowl of the old woman. "Hmph. Well, surely you must have at least one left?" "No, I'm sorry, ma'am, but they've all been returned to the manufacturer. And even if I did-". "Have you checked the back?" The old woman interjected. Melody struggled to maintain her call demeanor. "There is no back, ma'am. All of our items are replenished from an extra dimensional space where-". "Well, you could at least check," the woman snapped. Exasperated, Melody looked to Randy for backup, but he was deliberately avoiding her gaze as he pretended to rearrange a standee of Wands nearby. Melody sighed. "Sure thing. Be right back." Melody snapped her fingers again, disappearing in a shower of blue sparks. She appeared in the alleyway behind the store, adjoining the grocery store next door. The alley stank of rotting produce and alchemical runoff, but Melody didn't care. She just needed a break. She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a pack of Firebolt cigarettes. With another quick snap, a tiny flame erupted from her forefinger, and she lit the tip of the cigarette, sniffing out her finger with a quick puff of breath. She took a long drag and exhales, the cloud of smoke shimmering with magical orange sparks. After a brief moment's respite, Melody was steeling herself to face the old hag again, when something caught her eye. Standing at the opposite end of the alleyway, clad in a long, black trench coat, was a tall, broad figure. He didn't move, but as she glanced over at him, he curled his index finger in a "come here" motion. Wanting out of this situation, Melody quickly snapped her fingers, attempting to teleport again, but the spell fizzled in a pitiful plume of blue sparks. Dumbfounded, Melody looked around her. It was then she noticed the long, unbroken circle of tiny runes, drawn onto the asphalt with chalk. An anti magic field. Melody tried to ring in to the store telepathically, but was met with nothing but radio static, as she had feared. The figure motioned to Melody again, this time opening his trench coat slightly to reveal the revolver strapped to his waste. Melody could see the faint outline of the magical auras around all six of the bullets in their individual chambers. Lifeseeking bullets. Deadliest thing on the market. Swallowing hard, Melody took a cautious step toward the figure. God, she hated retail.
[WP] In a modern world where magic exists, you are a retail employee at a store that sells magical items. Tells us some of your customer experiences.	TL;DR: I maliciously complied with an asshat supervisor and watched a waddle of penguins terrorize customers. &#x200B; This Malicious Compliance happened a few years ago, and I’m changing the name of the store. So this day started off like any other. I walked into Dacy’s at the local mall, ready to start my shift. I had just started working part time for the Christmas season, and as yet I’m still in training. So I walk in and I’m greeted by the most pretentious ass hat manager I’ve ever met. I’ll call her PAH for short. I’ve heard stories about PAH, even though this was my first time working directly with her. Someone must have peed in her corn flakes that morning, because she HATED me. She explained to me how she single-handedly (yeah, right), turned HER department into the best of the store, and that the store manager personally commended her. After a few more minutes of her kissing her own ass, it became apparent I was simply another part timer sent to mess up her area. For some reason, part timers were the scum of the Earth. I later found out PAH is notorious for getting part-timers fired, which really highlights her personality. PAH sets me onto my first task, setting up a display of these perpetual snow clouds. I have to admit, they are pretty cool. They float there with ACTUAL snow falling. Even better, the snow is enhanced so that it doesn’t immediately melt, so these clouds can be lots of fun in the winter. And this was right near the display of magic penguin figurines. Those things would become real for about 30 minutes when they got cold enough. I don’t know if non-retailers know this, but there are certain rules concerning the magic items (at least, in this store there are). First, all employees must be signed-off before they can touch anything remotely magical. Without that paper, an employee cannot even enter the magic section. No exceptions. The second rule is that all magic items remain in the designated magic section. This section has protective wards in place to contain any catastrophic issues. Setting up a magic display outside the designated area, without explicit, written permission from the store manager was grounds for immediate termination. So I explain to her, politely, that I thought it would be a bad idea to have snow clouds so close to those penguins. She counters that the clouds are tethered in place, and she personally set up special wards on that display area which would contain the snow. I held my ground, and asked to see the written permission from the store manager. PAH sneered, threatening to revoke my magic permissions. As a manager, she’s allowed to do this of course, which means I would have to complete the 2 day training all over, and I would undergo a review. That was preferable to being fired outright, so I still refused. She left and returned a few minutes later with her favorite employee, BN (short for brown-noser), along with my paper which was now stamped “REVOKED” in big red letters with her signature. BN proceeded to set up the display, while she had me straighten out some clothes nearby. By now, you must be wondering where the malicious compliance occurs. Well, about an hour after BN set up the display, a few kids start playing by it. I politely ask them to stop, but they ignore me and end up dislodging some of the clouds. They squeal in delight as the clouds float away, leaving a nice trail of snow on the ground. Now, my ability to clean this has been revoked, so I high-tail it looking for PAH. Not surprisingly, she’s at lunch, so I talk to BN. She decides that the snow is not an emergency, since it will melt quickly enough and doesn’t create ice. So I go back to the area. One of the clouds is drifting to the penguin display. I knew what was about to happen. A chill of anticipation ran up my spine. Lo and behold, the cloud got stuck on the nearby display of mini penguins. Well, guess what. The snow caused the penguins to begin to transform. All 20 of them. These weren’t the cute little penguins either, but the 6 foot tall Emperor penguins. In no time at all, we had a waddle of penguins walking around the aisles. Customers were panicking, penguins were screaming and chasing each other, one even laid an egg! It was glorious! It didn’t take long for BN to come tearing over to me with PAH in tow. “Why didn’t you stop it? Do you know how much this will cost in damages?” PAH said, exasperated. I couldn’t hide my grin as I said “Sorry, I’m not allowed to touch magic.” &#x200B; Edit: As far as I know, PAH was ultimately blamed for the fiasco and was fired. I was terminated because of that review. No worries, I found a much better job a week later. :)	Today was Black Friday; a day that caused all retail drones to collectively groan in unison for this day was even worse than the crowds that came in during Thanksgiving or Christmas. This was especially true for the employees of Theban's Occult Shoppe for not only were the entitled and rude customers on their worse behavior, but if you crossed said-customers too much then they could cause you much more harm than simply screaming at you. Black Friday at Theban's Occult Shoppe (your one stop shop for all of your magical needs!) was a widely advertised event that attracted certain clientele because it was the day all black magic items were on sale. Poppet kits, love spells, red brick dust, ritual sacrifice tools, cursed money, and more were stocked up. Due to the high incidence of workplace-related accidents (including but not limited to brain damage caused by mind control, spontaneous combustion, slipping on wet floors, and being possessed by demons), loyal employees were hard to come by. The owner, Mr. Craven Theban, tended to hire those with magical backgrounds as they stood a better chance against being magically attacked. Paisley Adams was one of such workers. She was one of the many, many, many illegitimate children of Zeus. Her mother, a cottage witch, reluctantly taught Paisley some simple spells to protect herself after refusing to quit the job. The pay wasn't exactly fabulous, but the job had excellent medical as well as tuition reimbursement. This particular Black Friday was no different than the others. As soon as the doors were unlocked, in rushed a throng of witches, warlocks, vampires, ghouls, and petty soccer moms. They elbowed one another out of the way. Two witches fighting over the last black scrying mirror turned each other into a sloth and a toad. A jar of nightmare elixir accidentally broke in Aisle 8 and sent three customers deep into disturbed, horrific sleep. Rude customers would put things they changed their minds about back on a random shelf while saying to the nearby retail employee, "Job security for you!" The checkout lines had grown obscenely long and Paisley hopped on one of the unopened checkstands. She served a multitude of grumpy faces while cheerfully saying, "Were you able to find everything you needed today?" A particularly overweight woman with an a-line haircut became Paisley's next customer. This woman was underdressed for the weather with her too-tight yoga pants, a tank top, and a pair of oversized sunglasses she was wearing in the store. She had placed a vial of newborn tears and a can of SPAM on the conveyor belt. Paisley scanned the SPAM and then picked up the newborn tears. She rotated the vial around to locate a barcode sticker. She said, "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but this item is missing it's barcode. I'm going to need to call for a price check." "It's ten dollars. Just ring it up for ten dollars," the woman snapped. "I can't do that," said Paisley, "I need someone to verify the price." "Are you calling me a liar?" She said. "No, Ma'am," Paisley said, "It's just standard protocol." The woman leaned closer to Paisley and lifted up her sunglasses to reveal purple eyes. She bared her fangs at Paisley while staring intensely and said, "Stupid girl. Because you insulted me, you will ring up my purchases for free. You will hand me a receipt, a twenty dollar bill, and you will not notice me walking out the door." Paisley pushed a small button located underneath the scanner. Instantly, the muscular security guard materialized next to the woman and blue bandages magically tied her wrists and ankles together. Paisley lowered the sunglasses back over the woman's eyes, "Sorry, Ma'am. The sign at the entrance of the store says attempting to use mind control is strictly prohibited and will be prosecuted as theft to the fullest extent of the law." The security guard grabbed the woman, nodded at Paisley, and then vanished. Paisley smiled at the warlock next in line, "Sorry about that! Were you able to find everything you needed today?" After her shift, Paisley looked to find out what the cost of the tears were. She chuckled when she saw the price tag was for thirteen dollars. All of that woman's drama was over a measly three bucks.
[WP] Space explorers discover a lush jungle planet with an oxygenated atmosphere. Deep below the trees they find ancient ruins, and even further below, catacombs full of frozen corpses. In their exploration, they accidentally start the process of reviving the lost civilization known as "Humanity."	Today is the day all of our forefathers had hoped for. I just wish I wasnt so apprehensive. I mean the ship is all I've ever known. I just wish Mack and Grampa were here to see it. Mack was the rebel. He was loud, opinionated and resentful of me being the next Captain to replace Dad. He tried to create mutiny on the ship Dad said. But I always thought he was harmless. Yet attacking the captain with the most painful and precise weapon in the fleets Arsenal has Consequences. I believe he was tastelessly frozen holding his own decapitated head as a grotesque example of what happens when my dad has an arm and ear amputated and cauterized before he can even blink. Yeah, the doctor on board is my mom. My sister is the shrink. They have been rehabilitating dad. But I don't believe they are doing well. Dad seems to have left himself behind during the ordeal with Mack. So he made me Temporary Captain. I could do no wrong in his eyes. But that's only because I do everything he says. Mack was more fit to be the Captain. Bold strong and strong willed. I remember the night I said to Dad that Mack would be the better captain he is a great leader. Mom got up from Dad's bed side and smacked me. Hard. I tasted blood. She told me my eight times great-grandfather did not create this life for his heirs to squander the opportunity. I had my God given duty since birth, and I would carry it out accordingly whether I liked the time I was conceived or the responsibility it entails or not. Mack understood better. He acted like he hated me but it was only to make me tough enough to deal with the shit storm of our long lineage of responsibility. And Grampa was the only one who understood my secret. Because he was gay as well. It was hard to be gay on the elite deck of the ship.everyone was too important and the servants here loved to gossip and feel important. Grandfather took me to the lowest class deck. and taught me about all the ways a servant is able to please. I hated that because it was only a quick heartless and impersonal fix. I believed in love. I wanted to be in a relationship. Not bound by the times or moral customs of before. Dad would have to die first. Then noone would be able to argue or disapprove of my laws. Or they would be stripped and whipped accordingly. And demoted to the lower class immediately. Yet with this interGalactic scan from this morning. Things are definitely going to need to be evaluated by dad. And a whole planet means finding more time with Percy and a more healthy and free environment where we can be together. If anyone likes this. I will add to it. I plan to finish it on my own time off of reddit, but to save the hassle of extra boring, long winded reading. I will end here for now. Hope you like it! Have a great night everyone!!!	Humanity. Our creators, Our enemies, And our prey. They created us anthros, they enslaved us anthros, and they fell to us, anthros. And now, they’re about to be revived. “DANNY!” “WOAH!” I nearly fell on my face and broke my snout. I just barely managed to recover, and as I did I tripped on my long fox tail. I recovered again. “Sarah?” “Yes, Danny?” “I just had a dream that humans came back and...” I stopped to gather my thoughts. “Murdered us?” “Yes...” Her beautiful Russian accent calmed me. I was wearing my pressure suit, and the only part of me that wasn’t covered by space gear was my head, my helmet was on the table next to the chair I fell asleep in. “Oh, please Danny! They’re long gone, they all died off two millennia ago!” I was still panting heavily out of stress. “I - Ok, ok, They can’t kill us, they’re dead. Sorry.” “Now, return to station.” “Yes ma’am!” “Danny, you know I just want you to call me my name.” “Okay, Sweetie.” “That works too, love.” Yes, we talk like that openly on the main control deck, but it’s all good because our relationship isn’t that big of a secret. I worked at tracking panel 14, natural obstacle tracking station 3. Small asteroid coming head-on. I added in some navigation instructions to avoid it. Sarah, head of _DealBreaker,_ our armed planet-class mothership, was a Russian Blue, coming from the continent-class ship _Russia._ But... Our current target? Earth. And I’m horrified. Not much happened over the next few days. But the landing. We landed rather uneventfully, but I was racked to the core; You see, I volunteered to go out on the first expedition. Actually, Sarah prodded me to. But in the end, She promised me a bit of nighttime knocking... hehe... if I went with her. Oh yeah, She’s my GF... I won’t mention that anymore. 6/14/4270 “Morning Dan, hon’.” “Good morning, Sarah baby.” I got up and stretched. “Oh, that hot sex last night!” “Yeah...” “I’m getting ready for the mission.” “Oh, that motivation! I rarely see it from you.” I showered, groomed, brushed my teeth and put on my underclothes and my spacesuit. She did the same, but by the time she was out of our habitation module, I had a laser rifle in hand, respirator over my snout, and excitement in my spirits. Man, the things a night of sex with your girl can do, I went from afraid of even the thought Ok, I won’t mention that anymore. intercom: recon team alpha, please report to briefing room epsilon for mission breifing. This is my chance. This is my future, and the universe’s future. This is my time. Let’s go.
[WP] Space explorers discover a lush jungle planet with an oxygenated atmosphere. Deep below the trees they find ancient ruins, and even further below, catacombs full of frozen corpses. In their exploration, they accidentally start the process of reviving the lost civilization known as "Humanity."	The journey was always the least exciting part. That's what I always feel like. You're shut inside a small room for a week or two while you traverse the slipspace. Nothing to look at, except your own bored face in the mirror. They lowered the shutters on the observation decks while we were travelling, partially because the slipstream wasn't too interesting to look at, partially because those who did look, tended to wind up bleeding out their eyes and ears. Or other appendages or orifices. So you were confined to a room. Usually you could hang with the other travelers, but this time I was one of a few passengers. And the others were the type of people who'd rather bury themselves in their work while travelling, than having a good time. I sighed. I was lying on my bed, fidgeting with my InfoTab to pass the time. Not that I was going to get anything, connection shuts off in slipspace, and where I was going, all outside connection had been shut off in advance. Then I suddenly got a small alert message, telling me that we had arrived. I put down the device and got up. I walked into the small, cramped bathroom adjacent to my room, and turned on the mirror. It helpfully, and irritatingly, pointed out the dark rings underneath my four eyes. And how matted and dull my rust-red fur looked. How my tail and my big ears were bushy and needed to get a shave. And how I needed to cut my nails. I liked technology, but why did they have to put computers in everything? Sometimes you'd like to just have some time away from them, especially if you had to put tape over the inbuilt camera. Which incidentally, I had to do, after finding out that the local crew usually took, well, candid 3-D videos of your body for usage on the crew only holodeck for... recreational purposes... I know it gets lonely when you're in the force, been there myself, but some things just aren't acceptable. I sighed again, and got out of my bathrobe and took a shower. Which would either have been comfortable or refreshing, but since this was the cheapest craft that the government could have sent, it had de-dirtifier chem-showers. Efficient, true. But who wants to stand in a T-pose for a minute while they spray you with sterilizing fluid? I got dressed, in a cheap black business suit. It was new, but still, cheap. After all, when you're the only expert on an extremely obscure subject, so obscure I could count the number of other experts on the subject on one hand, you don't get high priority on the payroll at the Intergalactic All-Species University. Tenure is good, but when you're the least important staff member of 100.000 teachers with tenure, it's not that good. I got out and headed for the briefing room. It was good to stretch my legs. As I arrived, I was pleased to see I wasn't the last. In fact, I was the first. Typical. The other passengers were the other experts on the subject at hand; The primordial precursor civilization that had flourished briefly in the galaxy about 450 million years ago, before all other known cultures. They had left behind very little useful information archaeologically, only their most ludicrous monuments had remained. Like the black obelisk of Thronta-4, reaching from the sea to the exosphere of that planet, it was clearly big, threatening, and to most religions, considered extremely blasphemous. Or the strange temple complexes on Jhron-Pah-Nak that covered the entire southern pole, seemingly dedicated to a strange obese figure, with white fur and bloodred clothing. Slowly, my eccentric and obsessed colleagues joined us, and eventually, we got the meeting started. ''As you all know, you lot are the Tri-Galactic Federation's primary experts on the oldest known civilization, the Homulogue Monument Builders, or more commonly known as the Homulogues. They are almost completely unknown, even the Archivist Foundation, who have kept records of this Galaxy for the past fifty million odd years, have not recovered a single text authored by them, a single explanation for who they were, why the disappeared, and why the galaxy seems to be littered with their monuments from end-to-end.'' The government official, Rhaskh Olmo, the Fwervi captain of this vessel, looked down at her notes. Her brown feathers ruffled on her head, her beady black eyes focusing on her set of papers, astonishingly, since most everything was electronic or hard light data these days. ''You've all signed the non-disclosure agreement, and you all know you'll be put into maximum sentence prison automatically if you spill a word of this without an official order from the Supreme Admiral of High Command or from two of the three Triarchs of the Supreme Council. And now, we can show you why we've been so secretive.'' She gave a wordless command with a turn of her head. And a screen popped up in the middle of the room. It showed a decently sized planet with a partially strip-mined moon orbiting it. ''This system was the cause of the past couple of years of slipspace difficulties, a malfunctioning device, originally meant to hide the gravitational signs of this system and prevent the light from it being seen, it had begun leaking out unstable excess energy into the slipspace, which we all know causes high gravitational waves in there. When we managed to turn it off, we found that this system has extensive sign of habitation, and various forms of dating, uranium, carbon, solar, proved that this system was heavily populated, about 450 million standard years ago.'' A murmur comes up from the crowd. I myself am impressed, an actual colony of the Homulogues? The chance to study it would almost be a dream come true. ''The system is full of ruined asteroid habitats, old decayed ships, moon mines, research stations, a partially finished terraforming project on the fourth planet. Each of you will be assigned to one project to act as the expert adviser and leader of the archaeological team for the government researchers at that location.'' I nodded. Made sense. All sorts of goodies. But only one team got the main prize. Only one expert per team. ''Tlas Corte; To the fourth planet, and it's terraforming project. Junw the Erudite, son of Masqi the Secretive, to the moon mine. Asih Walfors, to the gas giant extraction facilities. Emda Morful, to the third planet from the sun.'' I heard a groan from the other experts, true enough, all of us had wished to go there, but I drew the lucky card for once. The captain in her deep aria voice told the rest where to go, and then had an ensign hand us our assignments. I walked out of that room only to run into one of the other experts. ''Emda! It should have been ME!'' He shouted at me. Well, my legs presumably. ''Teros the Willful. I didn't hand out assignments, the government did. You know that.'' The twitchy little scaled thing screamed at my from somewhere beneath the truly impressive amount of wooly sweaters, hats, socks, and pants he was wearing. I turned my head to one of the guards, who thankfully, grabbed the little guy before he hurt himself. ''Just take him where he is supposed to go, he'll be alright when he gets to work. He usually does.'' In a small field such as mine, people tend to be... eccentric. Teros was no exception. Flirting with females three times his own size, trying to pick fights with pretty much anything he saw as even remotely against him, letting the students with larger mammary glands who took his classes get higher grades automatically. How he ever managed to get tenure is beyond me. I went to my cabin, gathered what small amount of things I needed, and set off for the transport. 1/3 Continues in next part	Standing there in this lost ruin. Stone and ash and dirt. The ice deep below. The broken bricks of what had once been a stretching city. Fallen now into this green jungle rising up in the heat and humidity. A world devoured. The beast another world itself. She looked down toward the tunnel where they were going down and coming back out. This slow stream of movement, the bobbing headlamps. Standing with her helmet under her arm. The air here thick and warm but clean. She could taste it. He came up to her and watched them for a moment standing in the falling dusk. The single sun burning across the distant horizon. Twenty years in that hurdling home of metal and lights and recycled air and when they finally came down through the atmosphere she could barely believe the way that it felt. “What happened here?” he said. “They died.” “Just died.” “Look at this place.” Pointing out across the overgrowth. A broken street with the roots coming through it. Tumbled bricks and stones and steel beams. The foundations of that which had been devoured whole. Far off a spire rising up through the trees, the metal dark with ages of weather and the top sheered off as if in some great and cataclysmic movement of the tectonic plates. A destruction long wrought and that devastation complete. “Something killed them.” “Maybe.” “A whole planet?” She shrugged. Turned her helmet under her arm. “It's too hot,” she said. “The massive volcano crater in the west. That flooded coastline down south with the buildings in the water.” “It's the planet that killed them.” “In a way.” They watched the line coming up. Between the workers moments of stillness and the darkness down below. Then those workers moving and above them the ship sitting in the quiet air. The tether coming down with the ladder and the car rising and falling. She'd been the first one down there when she found the opening. Walking into that dark and the walls close and suddenly far more like what she'd known for all her life. That confinement a comfort. Treading down the metal stairs and the burned out lights on the floor and her own headlamp casting a harsh and unforgiving glare down and down into nothing at all. At last the bottom, walking into the chamber where the door had stuck. Who had closed it and when now lost to them all. But stuck open those last few feet. Pushing her way through and the body there on the floor. Just bones now in the dust. Blowing away as she bent and touched them and they disintegrated. “What is it?” he'd said from behind her and neither one had known. Walking further along. Finding the cryobeds all laid out in an endless line. So far under these mountains that she could not see the other side. Just rows and rows and behind the glass the frozen bodies. Some with their eyes wide open and the terror on their faces and others in peace with their eyes closed. The glass cracked and the lights dark and maybe that tectonic movement even worse here as it wrenched this place apart. A side tunnel covered in fallen stone. How many buried she would never know. And then at last, coming to that second door. This one closed. A lone light blinking. Something written on it in a language she could not read and very old. Tracing her fingertips across it. Pressing her palm against the panel on the wall. Now above and hours later on this deserted planet, knowing all she'd come to find, all her life had been planned out to discover. Knowing it was here and it was real and they were not alone. Perhaps. Or perhaps just too late, missing this world by generations or a century. Something so tiny and minuscule and measured and a loss too great to really feel. But beyond that door. The hope of something else. The lights flashing. The glass intact. The bodies frozen but still deep in them some spark. A fire to be ignited and all that it meant. “What's the sun here?” he asked. She looked at that failing light, this lost and ruined planet. The bodies coming up from the deep. Pale and ghastly and white. Their cracking eyelids. Even now perhaps the first one waking to take that rasping breath. The steam from its skin as it thawed. “It's called Sol,” she said.
[WP] The bad news is that the girl turned out to be part of an evil cult. The good news is that you're part of something even worse.	"Come on Lilith, hurry up!" Angie pulled lightly on my arm as she tried to hurry down the alley, almost skipping with excitement. We were headed to a rave she said she'd heard about from her new friends at school. I ignored her and stuck to my leisurely pace, craning my neck to look at the tall walls surrounding us, fascinated by the junk piled on the fire escapes. It was like a new world to me. I'd moved to the city just a few months ago and hadn't really taken it in yet. It was a new experience for Angie, too, though she wouldn't want to admit it. Until a few weeks ago she'd been one of the shy and unpopular kids. She ate lunch alone, or with the other quiet kids and the new girl from out of town (that's me). Her evenings were spent at home with Netflix and a bag of Doritos, not hanging out with the cool girls and going to underground parties. But something had triggered a transformation, and now she was one of the popular crowd. She'd already got together with the hottest guy in the school and dumped him for another guy a week later. She looked like she'd lost weight, too, although maybe that was just the confidence showing. I wasn't sure what had happened, but whatever it was I figured she wasn't going to remember the sad little pack she'd left behind. But today at lunch she'd come over to where I was eating alone and invited me to this rave. I'd never been to one--like I said, I was the new girl in town, and I really hadn't tried very hard to connect with the social scene--but it sounded interesting so I agreed, and here we were. We'd stopped at an unremarkable door next to an open dumpster. Angie was doing some kind of complicated knock on the door while I peered into the dumpster. Someone near here really liked pizza and take-out Chinese food, apparently. Angie made a face at me, and I gave up on my dumpster investigation to join her by the door as it swung open. It was very dark inside, but I have good night vision and I could see that the guy who opened the door was wearing a long, dark red robe. Were we supposed to dress up for this? Oh well, too late now. He turned without speaking, and the three of us went down a hallway into a room lit by candlelight. I didn't know exactly what raves were supposed to look like, but I was sure it wasn't this. There were about twenty more people in robes, men and women, standing in a wide circle around a heavy steel plate in the center of the room. As we came in, someone held out a robe to Angie and she slid it on; then four of the robed people gestured me toward the steel plate. When I didn't move, two of them quickly grabbed my legs and picked me up; the other two caught my arms as I fell backwards. It was all very quiet and efficient, so I could hear Angie as she started talking. She sounded less like the extrovert I'd come here with, and more like the shy girl she'd been before. "I'm sorry about this, Lily, really I am, but she's already kept her end of the deal and now I have to keep mine." The four robed figures set me down on the plate and tied me by the wrists and ankles to four hooks at the corners. I guess most people would have struggled and tried to escape, but I didn't move at all. Angie was still talking. "I just couldn't stand being the loser any more, you know? And I found out that she could fix that, if I brought her sacrifices." Her voice was plaintive. "I'm sorry it was you, I know you were never mean to me, but you're new here and hardly anybody knows you and sorry, but it just wouldn't be as much fuss if you're the one who disappeared, you know?" "Sacrifice for who?", I asked, as my captors backed away and Angie approached. She stood over me holding a knife. It was a good chef's knife, not the eldrich dagger I'd half-expected. She smiled at me. It looked genuine. "Naamah," Angie whispered, closing her eyes and seeming to savor the name. "She's so beautiful, and she can make me beautiful too, if I pay the price." It took me a moment to register what she'd said, during which Angie knelt down and sliced deeply across my throat. It was a very good chef's knife. Then her words sunk in and suddenly I couldn't take it. I cracked up. Angie's eyes opened wide and she backed up as I giggled and snorted. The ropes around my ankles and wrists burst into flame as I rolled over and stood up, still laughing at the joke. Angie's eyes were on my throat, which she had cut almost in half. I reached up to touch it and my neck was whole. "Sorry," I said. "That's not going to work." I looked down at the floor. "Naamah!" I yelled, "get your sorry ass up here." The candles abruptly went out, then lit again a moment later to reveal Naamah standing in front of me with a shit-eating grin on her face. Angie and the other cultists started backing away with horrified expressions. I'd bet a soul she hadn't shown them her true appearance before, with her empty eye sockets and holes in her face revealing her mouthful of sharklike teeth. "Hi Lil!" she cackled. "Got you!" I rolled my eyes. "Yes, you got me. Very funny." I looked around. A few of the cultists were chanting something and kneeling with their foreheads on the ground; the rest, including Angie, were edging toward the door. "An actual demon worshipping cult? Really?" I shook my head, then sealed the door shut with a gesture and made the candle flames billow out to ignite the walls and floors. In moments the room was an inferno, and the two of us watched the cultists scream until their flesh blackened and they couldn't scream any more. Then the burnt walls started to collapse, crumbling away to nothing, revealing not the city we'd been in but an endless plain of rough black stone, marked here and there with jagged iron towers reaching up to the smoky sky. I sighed. "I hate this place. Couldn't you let me stay up there a while longer? It was peaceful." "No rest for the wicked," Naamah chided. "And we are so very wicked, my dear sister. Besides, it's my turn to go!" She went over to one of the still-writhing bodies and pulled it up by the arms, then slapped away the blackened flakes to reveal Angie's face. New skin was already regenerating underneath. The nerves always grow back first, so that would hurt like hell. Angie's mouth was moving but she couldn't talk yet. Naamah put an arm around her. "Come on, sweetie! I do keep my bargains. Time to go be beautiful and popular." She tried to wink, though couldn't really pull it off with her empty eye sockets. Then a cloud of soot swirled up from the ground and surrounded them, and when it was gone they were too. I sighed and started walking back to my tower, leaving the cultists to discover hell on their own. I had a prank to plan, and topping this one would be hard.	I’ll just get it over with right at the beginning, I’m not a good girl. I’m not your girl next door. It’s true she had every reason to stalk me, to painstakingly track me down over a period of 3 weeks. I had fucked him, her boyfriend, and I had done it so thoroughly that there was no taste in his memory for anything other than me, other than my hot, slick, velvet…touch. She probably didn’t need to be as cautious as she had tried to be, but oh, how I enjoyed our little game. How it made the pulse in my neck thrill when I’d catch her out of the corner of my eye. Her clumsy attempts at surreptitious shadowing and her frantic scrabbling at scrapped bits in the rubbish bin made my blood roar in my ears. I enjoyed drawing her in so much more than sex. I had targeted her before she was born. Her specific bloodline was thrumming like music in my ears. I was intoxicated by her overwhelming emotions of revenge and desperation. I luxuriated in her perceived power over the situation. It was so obvious in everything that she did that she thought she was the one who knocked…I couldn’t wait until she knocked on my door. Hi, I’m Amayla and you’re never going to believe my story. I was hatched in a galaxy far from this one. My family’s one single mission throughout the ages was to maintain the bloodline of a single heritage brand of human. Yes, you caught that, brand. Humans are kind of like the mice of the galaxy. They are farmed in many different ways and for oh, so many uses. It can be nauseating to go to Galaxoo where the main mall dedicated to Homo Sapiens offers humans in oh so many shapes and sizes. Everything is regulated of course and there are very strict requirements for organic humans (your planet, Earth, is not an approved zone for organic). I digress, back to Lyra, the girl I had wronged and who reacted in such a predictable way. She was drawing ever closer to me as if I were reeling her in on an invisible line. Just last night she had picked the lock on my door and gotten enough courage to explore the foyer and draw a pentagram in sheep’s blood before she lost her nerve and ran away. I hadn’t been here at the time, but when I arrived home I spent a moment savoring her scent on the air, the elation, blood, fear, and anger making eau de wow. I chuckled to myself as I went downstairs to the basement to finish the transporter. Perhaps tomorrow night I thought, perhaps tomorrow I will see my homeland again.
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago.	"Not this crap again," I muttered. I finished chewing the spoonful of cereal I'd just shoved in my mouth and hopped up to grab a sharpie marker from my dad's kitchen counter. I sat back down and grabbed the milk carton. I bit the top of the marker and uncapped it. The marker made a tiny 'pop' sound. I turned the carton towards me and drew a line through the word "Missing" until it was nothing more than a large black rectangle. I grabbed a post-it note and placed it carefully over my six year old portrait. I wrote in block letters. "We know, Mom. It's called Divorce." I went back to my cereal and realizing that it was all gone, I tilted the bowl towards my mouth and drained the last of the sweet sugary milk at the bottom. I emptied the milk carton in the sink and tossed it in the recycle bin. I cleared my bowl from the table and headed back upstairs. "See ya later, Dad," I said. "See ya, kid," he saluted me. Halfway down the stairs, on my way out the door, I stopped. "Dad?," I shouted up to him, "We're out of milk!," and with that I walked out the door for school.	I woke up. It was sunny outside, and I got up. I was slightly tired from all the homework I did last night, but I just needed breakfast and I would be fine. At the kitchen, my mom was wearing headphones while washing dishes. I came to the table, cereal and milk already out on the table. I took the cereal, and poured into my bowl. Next came the milk. I poured it in, bubbling with its cold frostiness mixed with the delicious wheat thins. I took a bite as I set the milk carton down. I spat out my bite as soon as I saw the side of the milk carton. It was a picture of me, or someone that looked eerily close to me. “MISSING: 10 YEARS AGO.” Although I was 16 years old, My heart sank. I came up to my mom with the milk carton. “What’s this?” I said, poking her and showing her the side of the carton. She took off her headphones, snatched it, and chucked it into the trash. “It’s just some kid. Don’t worry about it.” “Mom! That milk was still good!” I wailed, going to the trash to retrieve it. My mom stood in the way. “It doesn’t matter. Get your stuff, the bus is almost here.” “What’s going on!? explain!” I said, on the verge of tears. I was scared. My mom started crying, slumping to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore...” “Do what? MOM!” I yelled. She looked up at me. “10 years ago, I learned I was barren. I couldn’t have children. I was depressed. Then I saw you, at a park. You were beautiful, you were the son I deserved. I stole you. I stole you away, but I loved you. I’ve always loved you, you are my son. I’m sorry.” I sat there, my mind exploding, my mom crying in front of me. It explained everything. Why I never had a dad. Why my mom would always hide me when I was younger. I realized the picture was similar to me, because they used that computer thing to calculate what a person looks like when they’re older, without actually seeing them. My world was destroyed in a matter of minutes. The bus arrived outside.
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago.	“What the fuck?” I blink and read it again: BEST BY -9 NOV 2008- “Watch your mouth!” “What the hell is this?” I grab the carton and shove it toward her face. The blood drains from her nose and cheeks, and her crows feet spread along with her eyelids. “Oh god. You have to listen — we” “What could you possibly say to me? How the fuck could you or dad even begin to rationalize this?” “There was just so much going on, we didn’t have time, we had no choice” “Save it! I don’t think I can stand to hear it.” Foggy and full of ire, I rise from the table. The crushed mass of soggy cardboard in my hand turns my stomach. I look once more at the picture on the back, and the date printed above it in fading black: BEST BY -9 NOV 2008- “I, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Please tell me this is some kind of joke you’re playing on me.” “Son, we never meant for it to get this far, we have been waiting for the right moment... and... and, we waited too long.” Her head sinks and her voice trails into a squeak, a whisper too pitiful to understand. “Yes, yes you did! Ten years too long! I mean Jesus Christ... this milk is ten years old! Ten! Why is it even in the fridge at all? Guess I won’t eat breakfast before school! God this family is fucked.”	I woke up. It was sunny outside, and I got up. I was slightly tired from all the homework I did last night, but I just needed breakfast and I would be fine. At the kitchen, my mom was wearing headphones while washing dishes. I came to the table, cereal and milk already out on the table. I took the cereal, and poured into my bowl. Next came the milk. I poured it in, bubbling with its cold frostiness mixed with the delicious wheat thins. I took a bite as I set the milk carton down. I spat out my bite as soon as I saw the side of the milk carton. It was a picture of me, or someone that looked eerily close to me. “MISSING: 10 YEARS AGO.” Although I was 16 years old, My heart sank. I came up to my mom with the milk carton. “What’s this?” I said, poking her and showing her the side of the carton. She took off her headphones, snatched it, and chucked it into the trash. “It’s just some kid. Don’t worry about it.” “Mom! That milk was still good!” I wailed, going to the trash to retrieve it. My mom stood in the way. “It doesn’t matter. Get your stuff, the bus is almost here.” “What’s going on!? explain!” I said, on the verge of tears. I was scared. My mom started crying, slumping to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore...” “Do what? MOM!” I yelled. She looked up at me. “10 years ago, I learned I was barren. I couldn’t have children. I was depressed. Then I saw you, at a park. You were beautiful, you were the son I deserved. I stole you. I stole you away, but I loved you. I’ve always loved you, you are my son. I’m sorry.” I sat there, my mind exploding, my mom crying in front of me. It explained everything. Why I never had a dad. Why my mom would always hide me when I was younger. I realized the picture was similar to me, because they used that computer thing to calculate what a person looks like when they’re older, without actually seeing them. My world was destroyed in a matter of minutes. The bus arrived outside.
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago.	“What the fuck?” I blink and read it again: BEST BY -9 NOV 2008- “Watch your mouth!” “What the hell is this?” I grab the carton and shove it toward her face. The blood drains from her nose and cheeks, and her crows feet spread along with her eyelids. “Oh god. You have to listen — we” “What could you possibly say to me? How the fuck could you or dad even begin to rationalize this?” “There was just so much going on, we didn’t have time, we had no choice” “Save it! I don’t think I can stand to hear it.” Foggy and full of ire, I rise from the table. The crushed mass of soggy cardboard in my hand turns my stomach. I look once more at the picture on the back, and the date printed above it in fading black: BEST BY -9 NOV 2008- “I, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Please tell me this is some kind of joke you’re playing on me.” “Son, we never meant for it to get this far, we have been waiting for the right moment... and... and, we waited too long.” Her head sinks and her voice trails into a squeak, a whisper too pitiful to understand. “Yes, yes you did! Ten years too long! I mean Jesus Christ... this milk is ten years old! Ten! Why is it even in the fridge at all? Guess I won’t eat breakfast before school! God this family is fucked.”	Item number: SCP-M11K Object class: Keter Containment: All companies specializing in the distribution of milk are to switch from cartons to plastic bottles for all quantities of consumer milk. Implementation has been slow, with pushback from dairy lobbies. Full implementation is expected to occur in 2025. This may not result in full containment. Any instances of SCP-M11K are to be incinerated upon discovery. Any instances of SCP-M11K-1 are to be given a full psychiatric evaluation, and class B amnesetics if deemed fit for release. If any instance of SCP-M11K-1 is not deemed fit for release, they are to be terminated. Object description: all instances of SCP-M11K appear on the side of a carton of milk as a missing child poster. This missing child poster will slowly materialize over the period of half an hour after the carton has been opened. Persons asked about the missing child poster, if not an instance of SCP-M11K-1, will remark that the poster was on the side of the carton when they first purchased the milk. This poster will take the image of the youngest member of the household roughly ten years in the past. If the youngest member of the household is younger than ten years, but older than two, the carton will reverse their apparent age to be two years old. If the youngest member of the household is younger than two, SCP-M11K will pick the next youngest. If the youngest member is older than 18, no anomalous properties manifest. This target is to be referred to as SCP-M11K-1. No members of the household will recognize the person on SCP-M11K except for SCP-M11K-1. Upon exposure to SCP-M11K, a sense of paranoia and unease will overcome SCP-M11K-1. This is usually dismissed by the parents of SCP-M11K-1. No valid reason has been given for this dismissal as of yet. As such, this is believed to be a property of SCP-M11K. Any attempts to identify SCP-M11K by SCP-M11K-1 will be dismissed by the parents, claiming that they look nothing alike. If SCP-M11K-1 remains exposed for longer than a total of five minutes, they will enter a semi-catatonic state. Parents usually dismiss this as being tired. Again, no valid reason has ever been given for this dismissal. After one hour of exposure, SCP-M11K-1 falls into a coma for exactly fifteen minutes. This is usually the first cause of alarm to the parents, and is usually too late for the Foundation to act. At this point, Foundation recovery of the child has a success rate of only 3%, as opposed to a 99% success rate while in the first two states. Once SCP-M11K-1 exits the coma, the missing child poster will no longer seem like a poster of themselves to SCP-M11K-1. Very little change is immediatly present in SCP-M11K-1. However, SCP-M11K-1 will slowly become more and more violent with age. They also become much more secluded, usually neglecting their studies or work. 92% of SCP-M11K-1 are imprisoned for violent crimes within ten years of exposure, 78% of those crimes are directed at their families. 54% result in murder of one family member, with 29% resulting in the murder of their entire family. In addition, SCP-M11K-1 instances have a strong aversion to milk. There is currently no known way of tracking instances of SCP-M11K. All brands of milk carried in cartons have been shown to be infected. As of yet, no milk jugs or bags appear to be infected. Instances of SCP-M11K have been observed on every continent. However, infections are rare, with only one in every ten million milk cartons being reported as infected.
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago.	My alarm screamed to the high heavens, doing it’s very best. It must get a sick sense of smug satisfaction when it wakes me. I throw myself into the shower, and somewhere between the lather and rinse cycle I realize it’s Thursday. I hate Thursday. It’s a lot like Tuesday, in terms of schedule, but I’m more exhausted, and ready for the weekend. I must sit through two hours of English, starting at 6:45, and I could honestly care less about my writing. “Don’t use ‘Swifties’ in dialogue!” The teacher ejaculated adverbingly. Kill me now. So, very unlike an oyster, I moved about - dressing myself, packing my backpack, and walking downstairs. Scrambled eggs, milk, and bacon awaited me at the table. Someone loves me, and it’s my mom. She understands Thursdays; I would like to think she’s been through a few in her lifetime. I didn’t see her in the kitchen; instead I made my way to the table. The room was dark, save for the sole light of the chandelier. I sat down, tore open the carton of milk, and devoured the meaty, fleshy strips of bacon. I glanced at the milk carton. On the front – a picture of a lost child, missing for ten years. It was a picture of me. I did a double take, it couldn’t be me, how was that possible? It must be a kid that looked like me. “Mom, are you there?” I said. I heard a muffled yell from upstairs, and footsteps. I looked at the picture again, my heart racing. I was dressed in my blue overalls and was wearing my Spiderman shirt. I had a goofy smile, freckles, and was missing two front teeth. I don’t understand. I don’t remember much from my childhood, hardly anything, so I don’t remember this moment at all. “Mom, can you take a look at this?” I said, as my mother walked into the room. She was wrapped in a towel and had just stepped out of the shower. I saw her study the picture for a moment, before her eyes grew wide in recognition. “Honey, you know that’s not you.” She said “Yeah, who is it then?” I said, my voice rising. “Take a deep breath, there’s no reason to get angry.” My mother said. “Really? Because I think I’m on a missing poster of a milk carton.” I said. I was very angry. My mother sat in the chair beside me and put her hands around my arm. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she began to rock back and forth. “That’s your brother. Your twin brother.” She finally said. “If I had a twin brother, why don’t I remember him?” I asked. “The doctor’s called it dissociative amnesia. We were playing at the park, down on 4th street, and…” she trailed off, shaking her head. Memories started flashing of my childhood, memories I’d had before but never fully understood. A hand playing cars with me that looked just like mine. Laughter that sounded just like mine. The double bunk bed. A name – “Peter” I mumbled, and my mother nodded. I sat there for a long time. The yellow school bus bellowed down the street, but I didn’t care. I felt hollow, like I had discovered an empty space in my soul. A space I now wanted to fill with memories of my brother. I could have had a friend all these years. We could have played together, done homework together, rode the bus together. We could have gone on double dates with the cute twins from 4th period history. All this – gone. “Why keep this a secret?” I asked my mother. “The doctor’s said it might be traumatic to remember, and if you never found out, well – ignorance is bliss.” She said. “I’m sorry, we never should have kept this from you.” My mother smiled a sad smile. “I have pictures of the two of you, would you like to see them?” I nodded my head. A lump formed in the bottom of my throat, and I couldn’t speak. I didn’t want to. My mother went upstairs and returned in a moment with a large scrapbook. She kissed my forehead, left the book on the table. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll make you some more bacon and call the school.” I held the scrapbook tight. The front cover had the same picture as the milk carton, except it showed the other half. Standing next to Peter, wearing the same outfit and a dorky grin, was me. *** &#x200B; r/BLT_WITH_RANCH	Item number: SCP-M11K Object class: Keter Containment: All companies specializing in the distribution of milk are to switch from cartons to plastic bottles for all quantities of consumer milk. Implementation has been slow, with pushback from dairy lobbies. Full implementation is expected to occur in 2025. This may not result in full containment. Any instances of SCP-M11K are to be incinerated upon discovery. Any instances of SCP-M11K-1 are to be given a full psychiatric evaluation, and class B amnesetics if deemed fit for release. If any instance of SCP-M11K-1 is not deemed fit for release, they are to be terminated. Object description: all instances of SCP-M11K appear on the side of a carton of milk as a missing child poster. This missing child poster will slowly materialize over the period of half an hour after the carton has been opened. Persons asked about the missing child poster, if not an instance of SCP-M11K-1, will remark that the poster was on the side of the carton when they first purchased the milk. This poster will take the image of the youngest member of the household roughly ten years in the past. If the youngest member of the household is younger than ten years, but older than two, the carton will reverse their apparent age to be two years old. If the youngest member of the household is younger than two, SCP-M11K will pick the next youngest. If the youngest member is older than 18, no anomalous properties manifest. This target is to be referred to as SCP-M11K-1. No members of the household will recognize the person on SCP-M11K except for SCP-M11K-1. Upon exposure to SCP-M11K, a sense of paranoia and unease will overcome SCP-M11K-1. This is usually dismissed by the parents of SCP-M11K-1. No valid reason has been given for this dismissal as of yet. As such, this is believed to be a property of SCP-M11K. Any attempts to identify SCP-M11K by SCP-M11K-1 will be dismissed by the parents, claiming that they look nothing alike. If SCP-M11K-1 remains exposed for longer than a total of five minutes, they will enter a semi-catatonic state. Parents usually dismiss this as being tired. Again, no valid reason has ever been given for this dismissal. After one hour of exposure, SCP-M11K-1 falls into a coma for exactly fifteen minutes. This is usually the first cause of alarm to the parents, and is usually too late for the Foundation to act. At this point, Foundation recovery of the child has a success rate of only 3%, as opposed to a 99% success rate while in the first two states. Once SCP-M11K-1 exits the coma, the missing child poster will no longer seem like a poster of themselves to SCP-M11K-1. Very little change is immediatly present in SCP-M11K-1. However, SCP-M11K-1 will slowly become more and more violent with age. They also become much more secluded, usually neglecting their studies or work. 92% of SCP-M11K-1 are imprisoned for violent crimes within ten years of exposure, 78% of those crimes are directed at their families. 54% result in murder of one family member, with 29% resulting in the murder of their entire family. In addition, SCP-M11K-1 instances have a strong aversion to milk. There is currently no known way of tracking instances of SCP-M11K. All brands of milk carried in cartons have been shown to be infected. As of yet, no milk jugs or bags appear to be infected. Instances of SCP-M11K have been observed on every continent. However, infections are rare, with only one in every ten million milk cartons being reported as infected.
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago.	“What the fuck?” I blink and read it again: BEST BY -9 NOV 2008- “Watch your mouth!” “What the hell is this?” I grab the carton and shove it toward her face. The blood drains from her nose and cheeks, and her crows feet spread along with her eyelids. “Oh god. You have to listen — we” “What could you possibly say to me? How the fuck could you or dad even begin to rationalize this?” “There was just so much going on, we didn’t have time, we had no choice” “Save it! I don’t think I can stand to hear it.” Foggy and full of ire, I rise from the table. The crushed mass of soggy cardboard in my hand turns my stomach. I look once more at the picture on the back, and the date printed above it in fading black: BEST BY -9 NOV 2008- “I, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Please tell me this is some kind of joke you’re playing on me.” “Son, we never meant for it to get this far, we have been waiting for the right moment... and... and, we waited too long.” Her head sinks and her voice trails into a squeak, a whisper too pitiful to understand. “Yes, yes you did! Ten years too long! I mean Jesus Christ... this milk is ten years old! Ten! Why is it even in the fridge at all? Guess I won’t eat breakfast before school! God this family is fucked.”	I sit back up in the chair with my head throbbing, the loud TV in the background is NOT helping. I read the milk carton again. I couldn't believe my eyes, it's actually me. But I'm right here, and I'm not lost what is going on? Confused, I rush to google myself but I can't find anything on my name. Actually, no results come up at all. I always thought my name was pretty unique but I didn't think I wasn't going to find anything about me. My school must have me on some sort of list online, some site I signed up on must have leaked something about my name but nothing. I go to call my mother downstairs to see what she thinks. "MOM! You need to come see this." I yell. I waited about 1 minute with no response. "Mom? Are you coming down?" She doesn't say anything at all as she starts walking down the stairs. When she gets to the bottom she heads toward the kitchen to make some coffee. She starts heading toward me and I go to grab the milk carton to show her, and as soon as I grab it she screams. Startled, I drop the carton on the floor. "Wow mom, what was that for?" I ask angrily and confused at the same time. Seemingly ignoring me she walks towards the front door and yells "OK, WHO IS THERE? STOP MESSING AROUND THIS ISN'T FUNNY." I ask her what she is going on about and she runs straight back into the kitchen and grabs a knife. I go run behind the kitchen wall next to the front door. Does she not see me? What is she going to do with the knife? Has she gone insane? These are the thoughts I'm thinking in my head as my mother stands in the kitchen with a knife, trembling in fear. Shit, I think I hear the bus. Maybe she is just pulling a cruel prank on me and I'm falling for it, pretty messed up to get a knife involved in a prank. I grab my bag and bolt out the door toward the bus as it starts leaving my house. The bus stops just before the train tracks to check for a train. I run up to the door and start walking up the steps. The bus driver looks confused and peers down at the stairs. What is he doing? Can no one see me? I go sit in an empty seat. The bus driver stops at the next stop and 5 kids walk onto the bus and go sit in empty seats, the last guy comes towards my seat and says "Hey, sup dude mind if I sit here?" It turns out to be my friend who I've known since 3th grade. I say "Sure, I have to tell you something." "What?" He asks. "Honestly, I'm kinda freaked out right now my mom and maybe even the bus driver are pretending that they can't see me or something. My own mother pulled a knife on me. I ran to the bus afterwards; I have no idea what is going on." "Oh, so I can't sit here? Well ok then." He says. "Wait what? I didn't say that. Come back!" He walks away and goes and sits in another seat. I begin to freak out, no one can see or hear me now. I start yelling and screaming and no one seems to acknowledge me. The bus driver enters onto the highway. Crying and screaming hysterically I run towards the back of the bus and open the back door and jump onto the pavement. My vision goes away, I can't see anything. I wake up in a chair and my head is throbbing. I look forward, there is a TV playing in the background and carton of milk on the table with my face on it. Date Missing: 11 years ago. I start laughing hysterically. What is going on? This can't be happening. Have I already done this 10 times?
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago.	My alarm screamed to the high heavens, doing it’s very best. It must get a sick sense of smug satisfaction when it wakes me. I throw myself into the shower, and somewhere between the lather and rinse cycle I realize it’s Thursday. I hate Thursday. It’s a lot like Tuesday, in terms of schedule, but I’m more exhausted, and ready for the weekend. I must sit through two hours of English, starting at 6:45, and I could honestly care less about my writing. “Don’t use ‘Swifties’ in dialogue!” The teacher ejaculated adverbingly. Kill me now. So, very unlike an oyster, I moved about - dressing myself, packing my backpack, and walking downstairs. Scrambled eggs, milk, and bacon awaited me at the table. Someone loves me, and it’s my mom. She understands Thursdays; I would like to think she’s been through a few in her lifetime. I didn’t see her in the kitchen; instead I made my way to the table. The room was dark, save for the sole light of the chandelier. I sat down, tore open the carton of milk, and devoured the meaty, fleshy strips of bacon. I glanced at the milk carton. On the front – a picture of a lost child, missing for ten years. It was a picture of me. I did a double take, it couldn’t be me, how was that possible? It must be a kid that looked like me. “Mom, are you there?” I said. I heard a muffled yell from upstairs, and footsteps. I looked at the picture again, my heart racing. I was dressed in my blue overalls and was wearing my Spiderman shirt. I had a goofy smile, freckles, and was missing two front teeth. I don’t understand. I don’t remember much from my childhood, hardly anything, so I don’t remember this moment at all. “Mom, can you take a look at this?” I said, as my mother walked into the room. She was wrapped in a towel and had just stepped out of the shower. I saw her study the picture for a moment, before her eyes grew wide in recognition. “Honey, you know that’s not you.” She said “Yeah, who is it then?” I said, my voice rising. “Take a deep breath, there’s no reason to get angry.” My mother said. “Really? Because I think I’m on a missing poster of a milk carton.” I said. I was very angry. My mother sat in the chair beside me and put her hands around my arm. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she began to rock back and forth. “That’s your brother. Your twin brother.” She finally said. “If I had a twin brother, why don’t I remember him?” I asked. “The doctor’s called it dissociative amnesia. We were playing at the park, down on 4th street, and…” she trailed off, shaking her head. Memories started flashing of my childhood, memories I’d had before but never fully understood. A hand playing cars with me that looked just like mine. Laughter that sounded just like mine. The double bunk bed. A name – “Peter” I mumbled, and my mother nodded. I sat there for a long time. The yellow school bus bellowed down the street, but I didn’t care. I felt hollow, like I had discovered an empty space in my soul. A space I now wanted to fill with memories of my brother. I could have had a friend all these years. We could have played together, done homework together, rode the bus together. We could have gone on double dates with the cute twins from 4th period history. All this – gone. “Why keep this a secret?” I asked my mother. “The doctor’s said it might be traumatic to remember, and if you never found out, well – ignorance is bliss.” She said. “I’m sorry, we never should have kept this from you.” My mother smiled a sad smile. “I have pictures of the two of you, would you like to see them?” I nodded my head. A lump formed in the bottom of my throat, and I couldn’t speak. I didn’t want to. My mother went upstairs and returned in a moment with a large scrapbook. She kissed my forehead, left the book on the table. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll make you some more bacon and call the school.” I held the scrapbook tight. The front cover had the same picture as the milk carton, except it showed the other half. Standing next to Peter, wearing the same outfit and a dorky grin, was me. *** &#x200B; r/BLT_WITH_RANCH	I sit back up in the chair with my head throbbing, the loud TV in the background is NOT helping. I read the milk carton again. I couldn't believe my eyes, it's actually me. But I'm right here, and I'm not lost what is going on? Confused, I rush to google myself but I can't find anything on my name. Actually, no results come up at all. I always thought my name was pretty unique but I didn't think I wasn't going to find anything about me. My school must have me on some sort of list online, some site I signed up on must have leaked something about my name but nothing. I go to call my mother downstairs to see what she thinks. "MOM! You need to come see this." I yell. I waited about 1 minute with no response. "Mom? Are you coming down?" She doesn't say anything at all as she starts walking down the stairs. When she gets to the bottom she heads toward the kitchen to make some coffee. She starts heading toward me and I go to grab the milk carton to show her, and as soon as I grab it she screams. Startled, I drop the carton on the floor. "Wow mom, what was that for?" I ask angrily and confused at the same time. Seemingly ignoring me she walks towards the front door and yells "OK, WHO IS THERE? STOP MESSING AROUND THIS ISN'T FUNNY." I ask her what she is going on about and she runs straight back into the kitchen and grabs a knife. I go run behind the kitchen wall next to the front door. Does she not see me? What is she going to do with the knife? Has she gone insane? These are the thoughts I'm thinking in my head as my mother stands in the kitchen with a knife, trembling in fear. Shit, I think I hear the bus. Maybe she is just pulling a cruel prank on me and I'm falling for it, pretty messed up to get a knife involved in a prank. I grab my bag and bolt out the door toward the bus as it starts leaving my house. The bus stops just before the train tracks to check for a train. I run up to the door and start walking up the steps. The bus driver looks confused and peers down at the stairs. What is he doing? Can no one see me? I go sit in an empty seat. The bus driver stops at the next stop and 5 kids walk onto the bus and go sit in empty seats, the last guy comes towards my seat and says "Hey, sup dude mind if I sit here?" It turns out to be my friend who I've known since 3th grade. I say "Sure, I have to tell you something." "What?" He asks. "Honestly, I'm kinda freaked out right now my mom and maybe even the bus driver are pretending that they can't see me or something. My own mother pulled a knife on me. I ran to the bus afterwards; I have no idea what is going on." "Oh, so I can't sit here? Well ok then." He says. "Wait what? I didn't say that. Come back!" He walks away and goes and sits in another seat. I begin to freak out, no one can see or hear me now. I start yelling and screaming and no one seems to acknowledge me. The bus driver enters onto the highway. Crying and screaming hysterically I run towards the back of the bus and open the back door and jump onto the pavement. My vision goes away, I can't see anything. I wake up in a chair and my head is throbbing. I look forward, there is a TV playing in the background and carton of milk on the table with my face on it. Date Missing: 11 years ago. I start laughing hysterically. What is going on? This can't be happening. Have I already done this 10 times?
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago.	I stared at the carton, the unabashed smile mocking my shock. I glanced up to the refrigerator to see the same exact photo with me smiling my big smile at age six. Only difference I could discern was the huge MISSING stamp at the bottom of the carton's image. My face grew hot as I gazed up at my father seated across from me, absorbed in his newspaper. My mother was still in the other room. I pulled out my phone and opened up Google on it, but couldn't think of what to look up to corroborate this story. I began typing in my name, when suddenly my dad jumped up from his chair and slammed the newspaper onto the table. My cereal spilled by the force of his movements and I sat frozen. "You know, son, I think it's about time I told you something about yourself," he said, nonchalantly. "Don't worry, this isn't another puberty talk," he continued with a wink. My eyes kept flitting back and forth between my dad's sincere face and the milk carton with my own face. I kept trying to keep focus on my dad, but the fact he just stood there without saying anything made it especially awkward to hold his gaze. "Uhh... Dad?" I asked. "HONEY!! I'm telling him the thing!!" My dad called to my mom. She came running out of her room yelling, "Not without me! Not without me!" She took her place by his side and had a very excited look on her face. My eyes now kept bouncing between the three faces in front of me. "Well, son, I don't know how to put this except plainly," he said, slowly choosing his words. He put his fingers on his chin and couldn't think of the next line he had planned for this. "You're adopted!" my mom said happily. I'm sure the look of concern on my face was very clear to them. "I knew that already.." I said, except it sounded as much like I was asking a question. "What!?" my mom screamed, as they looked shocked at one another. "How??" "Dad told me he was sterile during the puberty talk. He told me not to worry about it since the surgery from a decade ago might affect my ability as well." "Yeah, but we never told you..." she trailed, understanding what I meant. "I... why am I on the milk carton?" I asked, my bravery finally making itself known. "Well, son," my dad said, a slow smile creeping on his face. "We almost lost you to that surgery ten years ago. And we were so happy about seeing you come home safe, we even took a picture. And now," he could barely contain his laughter, "I'm just milking it." I looked to the milk carton again and back to my dad as he burst into tears from laughing so hard, my mom joining good-naturedly. I'd seen some low dad jokes before, but this one really took the cake. _________________________________ Come see more at /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! Or don't, I'm not your dad. Even if I was milking this joke a lot.	I sit back up in the chair with my head throbbing, the loud TV in the background is NOT helping. I read the milk carton again. I couldn't believe my eyes, it's actually me. But I'm right here, and I'm not lost what is going on? Confused, I rush to google myself but I can't find anything on my name. Actually, no results come up at all. I always thought my name was pretty unique but I didn't think I wasn't going to find anything about me. My school must have me on some sort of list online, some site I signed up on must have leaked something about my name but nothing. I go to call my mother downstairs to see what she thinks. "MOM! You need to come see this." I yell. I waited about 1 minute with no response. "Mom? Are you coming down?" She doesn't say anything at all as she starts walking down the stairs. When she gets to the bottom she heads toward the kitchen to make some coffee. She starts heading toward me and I go to grab the milk carton to show her, and as soon as I grab it she screams. Startled, I drop the carton on the floor. "Wow mom, what was that for?" I ask angrily and confused at the same time. Seemingly ignoring me she walks towards the front door and yells "OK, WHO IS THERE? STOP MESSING AROUND THIS ISN'T FUNNY." I ask her what she is going on about and she runs straight back into the kitchen and grabs a knife. I go run behind the kitchen wall next to the front door. Does she not see me? What is she going to do with the knife? Has she gone insane? These are the thoughts I'm thinking in my head as my mother stands in the kitchen with a knife, trembling in fear. Shit, I think I hear the bus. Maybe she is just pulling a cruel prank on me and I'm falling for it, pretty messed up to get a knife involved in a prank. I grab my bag and bolt out the door toward the bus as it starts leaving my house. The bus stops just before the train tracks to check for a train. I run up to the door and start walking up the steps. The bus driver looks confused and peers down at the stairs. What is he doing? Can no one see me? I go sit in an empty seat. The bus driver stops at the next stop and 5 kids walk onto the bus and go sit in empty seats, the last guy comes towards my seat and says "Hey, sup dude mind if I sit here?" It turns out to be my friend who I've known since 3th grade. I say "Sure, I have to tell you something." "What?" He asks. "Honestly, I'm kinda freaked out right now my mom and maybe even the bus driver are pretending that they can't see me or something. My own mother pulled a knife on me. I ran to the bus afterwards; I have no idea what is going on." "Oh, so I can't sit here? Well ok then." He says. "Wait what? I didn't say that. Come back!" He walks away and goes and sits in another seat. I begin to freak out, no one can see or hear me now. I start yelling and screaming and no one seems to acknowledge me. The bus driver enters onto the highway. Crying and screaming hysterically I run towards the back of the bus and open the back door and jump onto the pavement. My vision goes away, I can't see anything. I wake up in a chair and my head is throbbing. I look forward, there is a TV playing in the background and carton of milk on the table with my face on it. Date Missing: 11 years ago. I start laughing hysterically. What is going on? This can't be happening. Have I already done this 10 times?
[WP] Humans finally realised that aliens have been conversing using different wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum, and that using the microwave for past century has sent disturbing signals to the aliens.	„And you are 100% sure?“ „Yes of course I am Malingo. The messages seem to be encrypted but our team of professionals deciphered them and it looks like they are sending Coordinates on where to find a habitable planet.“ „is it their planet? In which solar system are they located?„ „They are way too far from us. We do not have much time left and our resources are limited after we send all we had on the last evacuation mission but like I said, these beings are caring for us and we should plan our next mission accordingly.„ “Well...., it looks like our best option right now anyway, doesn’t it? ... so let’s do it. Just one last question though: how come we never received any of their communication until 30 years ago? As they use the same microwave frequency as we do we should have at one point received some kind of signal. If those beings are so advanced that they can point us to a place we couldn’t find they must have discovered microwave communication 10.000 years bevor we did. We should have received their signals the moment Antrumong discovered microwaves 700 years ago.” “Well I don’t know. The only thing I know this is not our best but our only option. We should start acting now!” “Well ok then, put this coordinates in our star-gate and get everyone ready for the last evacuation”	humanity got a grind reminder of the universe cold and unfeeling nature,as god like beings decended from the sky.Almost as if the bells of hell opened,a frequency so unimaginable,it was something a completely insane and mad person could discribe as there nigthmares.Two beings,like wise of lovecraftian horror,with tentacles coming out of what look to be there eyes and mouths in which a black and a blue fluid was coming out,with a putrid smells the likes of which have never been imagine posible.A red skin which resemble a goats blood with dirt springle all over it.One of the aberretions screeched like babies being sawed in half slowly,the other one took a sudden U turn and make a sound that roughly sounded like a metal being banged by a bat.The monstrosity looked back at us,one of its tentacle reach for someting on its cavity,it took a gigant disc with two chains that could only be discribed as a mask for they mouth.He putted on his mouth and continued to "speak" "IF YOU GUYS COUL-OH,LOUD,YEA THATS TOO LOUD...LET ME SEE,UHHHh,yeah thats better.if you guys could stop saying mean things we would be very happy,please." and so the thing in which the things came,made an echoing sound and left in a split of a second.
[WP] Write about an ordinary week, except that the imagery hints at something catastrophic to happen soon.	There is never enough time in the day. Leaves fall, the wind whistles, and there’s is an expanding silence between the breeze. People commute today like they did yesterday. The trains work and arrive on time, and the busses follow their allotted trips as planned. The commuters, surrounded by noise, fail to notice the ever expanding silence. Far away, in a place that some would call the middle of nowhere, a child sits atop a hill and looks out at the ocean. He notices then, for the first time, that he can hear a sound that has no meaning to it. That this sound is as intermittent as the wind and that it fills the space of noise that his brain has already labelled. He listens and tries to understand what he hears. But it is not a voice, it is not a sound as he knows it, it is an expansion of something he has never heard. And as the gap widens and everything else seems to quieten, the child knows that he does not understand this noise. But that it is growing and that it is certainly there.	I take a walk through the forest. The reds, yellows, and oranges makes it look like a postcard. I would have been fine with this if it was October, not June. I walk crunching the leaves underneath me. I enjoy my evening walks, they make me feel more connected with the world. I start walking home watching my breath curl in front of me when I hear a loud screech. I look up and hundreds of crows are crowding the sky. I look closer to see it’s not just crows but all types of birds. I shrug it off as something having to do with the leaves. Looks like nature is as confused as the scientists. When I get home I am met by my dog daisy going absolutely bonkers. She practically dives out of the house as soon as I get the door unlocked. I go chasing after her just managing to grab her collar before she gets to the intersection. I notice a bunch of pets running about. Going the same direction as the birds. I’m not some idiot so I grab a bag of emergency supplies and start to follow where the signs are leading, away from here.
[WP] Your girlfriend has invited you to her family's annual reunion as an opportunity to meet them. According to the official invitation, it's being held on the weekend at a resort called Mt. Olympus. You can't wait to finally speak with her parents; Zeus and Hera. You've heard so much about them!	He whistled in awe as the massive complex came fully in view. "And you said this weekend wasn't going to be any fun, I can think of at least five things we could do right now that would qualify as fun," "And yet I can think of tenfold more that would be the opposite," She muttered as she pushed past him, "Oh come on Eris, believe me when I say, family reunions can be a bit tense, but this is a vacation, so I say we treat it as such." She couldn't quite suppress a smile from creeping halfway up her face as she turned to look at him. "You know I hate it when you're this positive, Seth, it makes it really difficult to brood unhappily." He smiled broadly and slapped her joyfully on her back as he pushed past her and up to the large entrance flanked by two gentlemen who were so alike they had to be brothers, if not twins. "Salutations gentlemen, what a fine day it is to stand outside wearing black clothing." He utterly beamed as he walked up to them, One of the men stepped forward and removed his sunglasses to stare him right in the eye, "Looks to me like someone decided to hike up the wrong mountain," The other, nearly identical man cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck before speaking, "Perhaps it would be smart of that someone to turn around while he still can," "Relax, Alexiares, he's with me," Eris shouted as she came up behind him, her hair messy and slick to her forehead, "It's nice to know you two meatheads are still stuck manning the door, but if you'll excuse us we're here to see mom and dad," "Eris, you're back," The other brother said, his voice cold as ice, "Not for long I hope," "Just for a few days Anicetus, I'm sure you'll survive that much," She gestured for the glass doors behind them, "Now, if you would?" With a grunt one of them, he had already forgotten which was which, nodded to the other and the glass doors slid apart before them. "Charming fellows," Seth said to her as they walked in, "Though I always love it when you talk back to people," "And I always hate it when you love what I do," She said with a sigh as they entered the lounge. The lounge area was large, more so on the merit of its extraordinarily high ceiling. The slightly jagged cone shape of the inner roof gave the impression of them truly being on the inside of a mountain, but on the floor stood several cozy sofas and chairs that radiated warmth and comfort. "Eris, darling," Came a voice that thundered across the room as a large fairly rotund man rushed over and lifted the much smaller woman up and around in a joyous embrace, before finally placing her back onto the ground, "Haha, too long has it been since we last met, you are in good health I see, that is good." "Hi dad," She said as if forcing out the words, "Where's mom," "Aha, this one eh, always going on about her mother," The large man said and nudged Seth with his elbow, "One would think they would outgrow these things with age," "I'm serious," She said, a hint of frustration seeping into her voice, "I don't wanna have to do this twice, can you please call her," "There is no need for that," Said a different voice that was both stern and warm at the same time, and suddenly a tall, slender figure appeared behind Eris and ruffled her hair like one would a child, "Now don't be rude and introduce us to your friend here," "Yes, who is this strapping young lad you've brought home with you this time," The man who could be none other than Zeus said as he grabbed Seth by the shoulder and punched him playfully in the stomach, "I dare say his tan even rivals my own," He continued, following the statement with another bout of hearty laughter, Pushing herself away from her mother, Eris pulled Seth away from her father and took a deep breath before speaking, "Mom, dad, this is my boyfriend, Seth," "Wonderful, truly a pleasure to meet you, Seth, I'm Zeus but you can call me dad if you want to haha!" The large man said gripping his hand like a vice as he simply nodded along. "Ah yes, I believe I have heard something about you," Hera said as she elegantly extended her hand for him to shake, "Set, was it?" "Seth," He responded with a smirk as he took her hand, "Only my Brother calls me Set,"	Elena was my first European girlfriend. I don't say just to brag, or imply she had great legs (she did) but to point out that she was from a country of which I knew very little, other than it took up space somewhere west of Russia and east of Germany. It happened that a ways into our relationship there was talk of marriage, and marrying, and kids too, and I did want that with her. One day at dinner she told me she wanted us to meet with her parents and get their blessings. Fine, I said, but you sure it'll be safe for us to be together there? In public? She put her hand on mine and told me it would be fine. Her country was a good country, a modern country, a Christian country where they believed all men were brothers. The soul knows no color, she told me. She added that her parents lived in the capital. They went by Zeus and Hera and would "receive me" at a resort outside the city the locals called Mt. Olympus. I didn't blink. Christian parents with pagan names? OK. Must be hippies. When it came to Elena, I didn't ask many questions: not about her need to swim at least one every three days, her odd disappearances, or her reluctance to eat much, if at all, while I was watching. The circumstances of our first meeting were stranger still: I first encountered her by the river that flows past my town, at the stretch where the water gets turbid and seethes. The stretch that you go to after dark with a booze can when you want the papers to read "tragic accident" and not the other thing, the shameful thing. That night she was plucking a stunted violin and singing some ditty in a tongue I had never heard. I sat there and listened to her and shared some of the booze I'd brought and then we made our own "tragic accident" there on the riverbank with only the rushing water to accompany us. The plane flight was uneventful. We arrived in her country and made our way out of the airport, while I did my best to not be unsettled by how even the taxi drivers stopped to stare at me. It was cold that day, colder even than New England, but the wind was silent and I could hear people converse. They spoke a clipped language that sounded nothing like the song I had heard her sing that day and I wondered, but the Uber had arrived and I began loading our luggage. The journey was again uneventful. When we stopped at a traffic light a man on a motorcycle rapped our window, and I, a fool and an optimist if ever there was one, lowered it. He glanced and me and Elena and then glared, barking at her. From the rear-view mirror I could see more motorcyclists approaching. As the light turned green I caught the driver's eyes. The hell, dude, what were you waiting for? Drive. GO. Get us out of here. He put his hand to the ignition, then, with a painful slowness, turned off the engine, pulled out the keys, and, smiling at me, dropped them by his feet. Fuck! I nudged Elena's shoulder and told her we needed to run. She had been very still. I could her mutter something over and over in that other tongue; something pleading and yet somehow resolute. The biker growled and reached for the door lock-- Elena's hands closed around my eyes-- Light! Light, I could see the light even through her hand and my eyelids, it was too bright, it was hurting me-- Sound! Monstrous, ringing, without limit. And then I couldn't hear anything anymore. The only senses I had left were sense and smell, but while the soft press of Elena would have excited me in diverse places, now was not the time. I opened my eyes and realized I couldn't hear anything anymore. The car smelled like a swimming pool. Something sat on the leather seat to my left. A hand. The body of the hand was fine. Looked human. Just the fingers, man, those had been flayed of their skin and underlying flesh. You could hang it up as a Christmas ornament. Or maybe put it on a pile of candy. Pesky kids wouldn't empty the whole bucket then, would they? I realized I was shaking when Elena wrapped her arms around mine. She said something to the driver; at least I saw her lips move. The driver reached down and fumbled. I got up and looked outside the window. A dog, or dog-like thing lay where the motorcyclist had been, most of its body blown off, and the remainder seared. Elena reached across, picked up the hand and threw it out, and then rolled up the window. Too late. The car smelled like a swimming pool. Then the car lurched to a start. I must have been shaking something fierce, because she began to sing-- and I could hear her when I couldn't even hear the breaths my own lungs were taking. I rested my head against her shoulders and let the motions of the car take me to a realm where things might make more sense. When Elena woke me, we stood at the foot of a mountain without end, in a desolate land when swirling storm clouds grumbled from their perches high above. Still delirious from sleep and with a horrid suspicion blooming in my gut, I asked where we were and what she was. Mt. Olympus, she told me, and she was a naiad, one of the many immortal daughters of Zeus and Hera. Before I could even begin to digest her words, lightning flashed and a golden road appeared. "Father grows impatient," Elena said, and held out her hand. I took it. The destiny that I had chosen for myself on that fated day was a seed only now coming to fruition; if I had known earlier the toils I would come to endure for the crime of having loved an immortal woman...no, I would have made the same decisions and paid the same prices. If that wasn't love, what was? I did say I was a fool.
[WP] Write a short story of several paragraphs, which you can read in any order, but the order in which you read the paragraphs changes the nuance/meaning of the story	The night was silent, yet I was unable to tell why. Not a cricket, not a broken twig, not a breath of wind. There wasn't anything that was wrong, but there wasn't anything that was right either. Perhaps that's the reason I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard her giggling. \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Why do you do that?" I said, turning towards her. "What?" "You know what." "No, I couldn't possibly." she grinned. "Liar." "Are we going to do this or what?" \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ She always wanted to try it, but I had always chickened out before. Jumping off a bridge was not an experience I wanted to have. But, seeing her standing there on the edge, I could hardly think about backing out. She seemed so ready, and sure of herself as she always was, and there was no way I'd ever get in the way of that. My heart leapt in my chest as she vanished over the edge. \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------	My mission is clear, and yet, my thoughts are clouded. I made a mistake. I hate making mistakes. Not because they set me back, but because they remind me of the punishments. Years and years of punishment. A flashing pain in my gut forces me to focus again. I steel my mind for the next encounter. No more mistakes. The tender eyes of a boy stare at me. Brimming with innocence and tinged with fear, they beg for help. Only a few meters away, his captors lie asleep. The room is quiet yet filled with a silent scream for my help. Iron shackles eating away at his wrists and ankles, emaciation exposes his ribs, and cracked lips bleeding into the gag at his mouth. His only sin is preaching hope. The penance for such actions sparks rebellions, and The Order, they quell these hopes. WHIP My vision turns white, the pain flares through my back and burns into my spine. I've been careless. The Order holds me prisoner for my sins. Vengeance, justice, sympathy. All meaningless and forlorn in this hellhole. The order has taken everything I love, and burned it before my own eyes. WHIP Again, the searing pain at my back. My mind grows tired. Not from the pain, not from the hunger, but from the system. I have fought long and hard and now. A rebellion has died. I can only look up and ponder. The Order looms precariously in the distance. Every task of mine before this one pales in comparison. I can not fail. I will not fail. I know what I must secure, and my conviction is hardened with every death I come across. So I plan. I am prepared to forfeit my body, to endure pain, and to lose my life. As long as I can save the people from the pain I've had to face. I may be shackled but I am not restrained. Tonight, I retaliate when they don't see and find vengeance. No mercy. Not for the orphans, not for the widows, and surely none for the ill. Kill or be Killed. Steal or be stolen. Abuse or be abused. That is the mantra of the elders. Those who die, die painful deaths. Those who survive are made to produce the drug. Those who show promise are trained in their martial arts; becoming their instruments of war and collection. The allure of food and shelter draw in the unknowing, and from there, they are trapped. Revolutions are always quelled. But not tonight.
[WP] Write a short story of several paragraphs, which you can read in any order, but the order in which you read the paragraphs changes the nuance/meaning of the story	Now I feel something... something exciting. It feels amazing, but only for a short while. Until I do it again. I wonder how that is to be ? All I did was take a life, for a life. I killed a man, never my fault. He tried to frame me with the things he's done, it is done. His lifeless body lied on the ground, never to awake anymore. And so I did. I wanted to feel alive, I wanted to feel like I was doing something right by my own standards. But it never works... Maybe I should do something else that could make me feel alive. Something crazy and exhilarating, something that gets my heart pumping. I need to do something, something that can only be done by people like me. ---This is hard as hell, first time doing it.	My mission is clear, and yet, my thoughts are clouded. I made a mistake. I hate making mistakes. Not because they set me back, but because they remind me of the punishments. Years and years of punishment. A flashing pain in my gut forces me to focus again. I steel my mind for the next encounter. No more mistakes. The tender eyes of a boy stare at me. Brimming with innocence and tinged with fear, they beg for help. Only a few meters away, his captors lie asleep. The room is quiet yet filled with a silent scream for my help. Iron shackles eating away at his wrists and ankles, emaciation exposes his ribs, and cracked lips bleeding into the gag at his mouth. His only sin is preaching hope. The penance for such actions sparks rebellions, and The Order, they quell these hopes. WHIP My vision turns white, the pain flares through my back and burns into my spine. I've been careless. The Order holds me prisoner for my sins. Vengeance, justice, sympathy. All meaningless and forlorn in this hellhole. The order has taken everything I love, and burned it before my own eyes. WHIP Again, the searing pain at my back. My mind grows tired. Not from the pain, not from the hunger, but from the system. I have fought long and hard and now. A rebellion has died. I can only look up and ponder. The Order looms precariously in the distance. Every task of mine before this one pales in comparison. I can not fail. I will not fail. I know what I must secure, and my conviction is hardened with every death I come across. So I plan. I am prepared to forfeit my body, to endure pain, and to lose my life. As long as I can save the people from the pain I've had to face. I may be shackled but I am not restrained. Tonight, I retaliate when they don't see and find vengeance. No mercy. Not for the orphans, not for the widows, and surely none for the ill. Kill or be Killed. Steal or be stolen. Abuse or be abused. That is the mantra of the elders. Those who die, die painful deaths. Those who survive are made to produce the drug. Those who show promise are trained in their martial arts; becoming their instruments of war and collection. The allure of food and shelter draw in the unknowing, and from there, they are trapped. Revolutions are always quelled. But not tonight.
[WP] Write a short story of several paragraphs, which you can read in any order, but the order in which you read the paragraphs changes the nuance/meaning of the story	Now I feel something... something exciting. It feels amazing, but only for a short while. Until I do it again. I wonder how that is to be ? All I did was take a life, for a life. I killed a man, never my fault. He tried to frame me with the things he's done, it is done. His lifeless body lied on the ground, never to awake anymore. And so I did. I wanted to feel alive, I wanted to feel like I was doing something right by my own standards. But it never works... Maybe I should do something else that could make me feel alive. Something crazy and exhilarating, something that gets my heart pumping. I need to do something, something that can only be done by people like me. ---This is hard as hell, first time doing it.	I find myself wondering what time it is, briefly thinking about if I have time to sleep right now, or if I am supposed to be up and doing stuff. There was always more to do, my tasks are never finished, and I feel exhausted for a moment, just thinking about how many things I need to do. I enjoy every moment of my busy schedule, but I have so little time to sleep, I cherish every moment I get. I stretch out across the bed, feeling the soft fabric across my skins, and smile a tranquil smile. It feels so good to stretch my muscles, and my mouth moves in a peaceful stretch. There is absolutely nothing wrong in the moment, the day is absolutely perfect, and I feel so wonderful. Nothing can ruin this moment. The room is silent except for my slow deep breaths, and I feel so peaceful and tranquil. I take in a long deep breath, enjoying the absolute silence, the tranquility of the moment, and then breathe it out, my entire body is so relaxed as I lay there, my mind empty from drowsiness. ***** Please let me know if you think I succeeded in this challenge. This is the order that I wrote the sentences to be read in. Do you think I accomplished these goals, or was one ways of reading it not clear? First > Second > Third = Person whose day is done goes to sleep Second > Third > First = Person who wakes up and can't decide if they want sleep in or get up. Third > First > Second = Person who wakes up and decides they will have a good day Third > Second > First = Person who wakes up in the morning. If you like my writing, you can find more of it at /r/iruleatants
[WP] Write a short story of several paragraphs, which you can read in any order, but the order in which you read the paragraphs changes the nuance/meaning of the story	Now I feel something... something exciting. It feels amazing, but only for a short while. Until I do it again. I wonder how that is to be ? All I did was take a life, for a life. I killed a man, never my fault. He tried to frame me with the things he's done, it is done. His lifeless body lied on the ground, never to awake anymore. And so I did. I wanted to feel alive, I wanted to feel like I was doing something right by my own standards. But it never works... Maybe I should do something else that could make me feel alive. Something crazy and exhilarating, something that gets my heart pumping. I need to do something, something that can only be done by people like me. ---This is hard as hell, first time doing it.	Artemis looked down on the body of his dead lover with disbelief. How did it get this far? He cradled her in his arms, sobbing. What had he done? This was all his fault; He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t change his nature, but for her to react as she did? For her to claim innocence, as if she was the only victim of a doomed love? It wasn’t fair—to either of them. Kartha was the love of his life, and he would do anything and everything for her. She would realize this—if only he could talk to her again. Except—he could. Artemis sat her down on the floor, stepped back, and drew the wand from his robes. His cloak billowed as if from a great wind, his eyes turned black, and dark tendrils of power burst from his wand, into her dead heart. Black ichor ran through her veins; she sat up, turning to face him. “Why bring me back to life?” Kartha asked quietly. As if she didn’t know. &#x200B; &#x200B; Rage built up inside Artemis. Even now, after all this time, she claimed innocence? No—he had to make her understand, what she did was wrong. He lowered his wand, aiming towards her. Kartha crawled back towards the wall, pleading. “I loved you, and you betrayed me,” he said. “No—please. I didn’t do anything. Please—you have to believe me.” Kartha said. “How can you not remember? You left me; you walked away. You brought this on yourself.” “Please don’t do this,” She said, a lump forming in her throat, “I won’t fight you, not anymore” She was willing to sacrifice herself for their daughter, but unwilling to fight for herself. Artemis looked down on her in disdain. A beam of red lightning forked through his wand, and she fell to the ground. He knelt in front of her, gently holding her fallen body, tears in his eyes. &#x200B; &#x200B; Kartha was silent, her expression cold as the grave, and the wizard spoke. “I know you must hate me, for what I did. I know you blame me for everything, and I understand.” Artemis stared into her face, so gentle, once filled with warmth and love. He remembered when they first met. It was over forty years ago; he was riding out on horseback, she was sent to kill him — Artemis turned, barely fast enough to deflect her spell. She ducked underneath his retort; moving to close the distance between them. She was fast, but he was clever. As she jumped to tackle him, Artemis cast a spell at the ground beneath him; it turned to water, and he dropped like a stone. She fell above him, and he raised his wand, casting a binding spell. It hit her exposed side; magic ropes bound her arms and legs. She fell into the water as he swam to the surface. He could have let her drown, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the look of determination in her eyes, or maybe it was just out of pity, but he cast another spell, and she began to float upwards. He brought her out of the water, setting her on dry ground— Brought back to the present, Artemis looked at his lover with tears in his eyes. Nothing had changed— their love was suffocating; It took him far too long to realize this. *** This was a real challenge, and a fun prompt to work with, thank you! r/BLT_WITH_RANCH &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[More from this series](https://www.reddit.com/r/BLT_WITH_RANCH/comments/9vdyhr/arhalym_chronicles/)
[WP] Write a short story of several paragraphs, which you can read in any order, but the order in which you read the paragraphs changes the nuance/meaning of the story	Now I feel something... something exciting. It feels amazing, but only for a short while. Until I do it again. I wonder how that is to be ? All I did was take a life, for a life. I killed a man, never my fault. He tried to frame me with the things he's done, it is done. His lifeless body lied on the ground, never to awake anymore. And so I did. I wanted to feel alive, I wanted to feel like I was doing something right by my own standards. But it never works... Maybe I should do something else that could make me feel alive. Something crazy and exhilarating, something that gets my heart pumping. I need to do something, something that can only be done by people like me. ---This is hard as hell, first time doing it.	(it's only two paragraphs but I thought it would be cool if I did a thing where it's polar opposites) I'll always love her. There's not a moment I would spend away from her. There's not a thing about her that I would change. From the bottom of her toes to the tip of her head she is perfect for me. When we first started our relationship I was a bit hesitant. "What if she's not like the others?" I thought. But then when I kissed her all my doubts vanished. I only wish I had more time with her. Then my days at work wouldn't be so long and painful. She died a few days ago. I went to her funeral. She was so beautiful. I cried then. There were too many emotions for me. Why her? Why did I have to fall for her? I won't let this stop me though. I'll always love you my dear.
[WP] You were forced to swap bodies with the biggest nerd in school who knowingly did it. Instead of demanding your body back, you decide to teach the nerd some self worth by becoming the most popular person in school in the nerd's body	This wasn't my house. It wasn't my bedroom. And it definitely wasn't my body. I had panicked at first. I was sure I had been drugged, kidnapped, or something. Anything. It wasn't until I got a good look in the mirror that I knew. Somehow, I was in that freak's body. Her name, now my name, was Lacey McHale, head freak and local goth of the town. I reached up and touched my now short and choppy dark hair. It was shaved on the sides and looked as if Lacey had cut it herself. I cringed in disgust at it. Her room itself was a living nightmare for me. The walls painted purple with every piece of furniture spray painted a dark black. It was far different from my cheerful baby blue and white bedroom that was carefully decorated with a gentle aquatic theme. On the dresser sat a couple bottles of prescription medications with a note. The note read "For depression and anxiety TAKE THESE" I scoffed at them. Depression was only something losers made up for attention after all. Looking over at the corner section of the room, I spotted the problem. A dark pentagram had been painted on the floor. Burnt out candles and various objects lie scattered around it. I backed away from it, not wanting to touch whatever dark magic emanated from the area. This could help though! It was proof of her demonic exploits. If I could convince someone of who I was, I could expose Lacey for the monster she was! I checked the clock. Lacey hadn't bothered to set it, causing me to sleep in quite a lot, but that meant that the house was probably empty, and her parents had left for work already. I'd just have to do it at school. Surely my friends would recognize me. I went to the closet and picked out the lightest colored outfit Lacey owned, which happened to be a light grey t shirt and a pair of red jeans with a checkered pattern. Lacey was thin. Grossly thin. We often mocked her for it. I approached her dresser and attempted to find some suitable makeup, but the only things Lacey owned looked like they belonged in the halloween section of a store. I decided to go without any. I started to make my way out of the house when I had a thought. If I could find more dirt on the girl, perhaps she'd have second thoughts about ever doing this again. A wicked smile stretched across my lips as I spun around and began looking through the home. As I searched, I began to feel uneasy. Something was off with this family and not just that one of them knew how to switch bodies with a person through demonic rituals. The house was clean but felt empty. There was very few things in the house aside from basic furniture. Looking at the bedrooms, it seemed like Lacey lived with two sisters and her mother but while they appeared to be a family of four, when I opened the fridge, the only things in it were some old milk and a half carton of eggs. The cabinets were equally barren. The sisters' rooms were of no interest to me, but in the mother's bedroom, sitting on the bathroom counter were a couple needles and some questionable substances in bags. It was then that I noticed the bruises on my arms and shoulder. I started to feel sick. I left the home with a dreaded feeling in my gut. Driving Lacey's car was strange. She drive a small cheap pickup truck, much larger and clunkier than my sleek car. It took a couple attempts to start. The drive to the high school cleared my mind. I didn't care what her family was like. She stole my body and nothing was going to stop me from getting it back. I pushed all thoughts of her home aside and drove with a newfound determination. I arrived at the school at lunchtime and spotted my body instantly. Lacey was sitting at MY table, smiling, and joking with MY friends in MY body. Anger surfaced in my mind and without thinking, I stormed over to the table. "What the hell are you doing freak?!?" I demanded, grabbing her by the shirt and jerking her to face me. The instant she recognized her own face, she averted her eyes. One of the girls at the table, Amanda, stood and pulled my hand away from Lacey, glaring daggers at me. "How DARE you!" She screeched. "What the hell is wrong with you?" One of the other girls, my best friend Riley, chirped in with a viscious smile. "Looks like the freak forgot her meds this morning." I turned to Riley and pointed at Lacey who shifted uncomfortably. "That's not me!! I'm me! I'm Courtney! Have you not even noticed?? I'm Courtney not Lacey!!" Riley's cruel smile turned to disgust. "Wow, you're even worse than I thought." She said with a sneer. She turned to Amanda. "Think maybe we should call an asylum for this lunatic?" "More like the police." Amanda retorted, "I think she finally broke. Freaks like her might just hurt someone." I was shaking at this point. Tears threatened to surface in the corners of my eyes. These were my best friends. How could they not recognize that they had been spending the morning with a stranger? How could they not believe me or pause their cruelty to at least hear me out? Had I really been acting like this the whole time? In a fit of anger, I screamed, turned to Lacey and slapped her across the cheek. At this point though, our argument had gathered the attention of surrounding tables. One of the jocks, Thompson, jumped up at the attack and tackled me, holding me down while my best friend screeched for someone to call the principal. I spent the rest of the day in the office and was ultimately suspended. Later that day, as I was leaving the school, I was approached by Lacey. I felt so drained from all the stress of the day. As she approached, I only whispered a weak "Stay away from me." But she didn't stop her approach. She got closer and closer until. . . she put her arms around me in a hug. "I'm sorry." She said gently, "I didn't mean for all this to happen. I just...." She let go of me and paused, "I just couldn't take it anymore, you know..?" I stared at her and in that moment, we looked the same. Broken. For me it was something new. My family had money. I always got everything I wanted. I had never felt this truly broken in my life, but looking at Lacey and thinking about her life, I knew it was nothing new for her. This was her life and at that point, I understood. I wouldn't have been able to take it either. "I'll switch our bodies back tonight." She smiled weakly, "I'll deal with the suspension and the punishment." I didn't reply. Part of me wanted to attack her, hit her, and scream at her for what she did, but I just didn't have the energy. "You forgot to take my meds didn't you? I left you a note and everything..." Lacey sighed. "Just put me back in my body tonight..... freak." When I got to Lacey's home, I went straight to bed, though I couldn't sleep for a while. There was shouting downstairs for a long time after Lacey's mother got home. At one point, of the sisters began to cry while the other took most of the damage once her mother got violent. I felt horrible for not stepping in. Or doing anything at all. Once I did finally fall asleep, I had nightmares of Lacey's mother barging in and killing me in my sleep. When I woke up, I was back in my body as promised. Over the course of the next few days, I didn't say much. Lacey was suspended and I didn't get to see her. I spoke very little to my friends and they suspected I was upset about something. Riley even tried to console me, suprising me with chocolates one afternoon. She said she took them from a freshman that morning. They were meant for his crush. Riley said he didn't deserve her. I felt sick after that. The next week, Lacey was back in class. She was bullied relentlessly by my peers at first. Finally, I spoke up. A couple jocks, Thompson, the one who had stopped me from fighting Lacey the week prior, and his buddy had cornered her in a hallway. She was staring down at the floor, saying nothing as they demanded answers on why she attacked. Was she on drugs? Was she stalking me? I strode over the them and stepped between the football players. They let me in, expecting me grill Lacey for her actions and looking at Lacey, I assume she thought the same. I took a step towards her and spun around to face the two football players. "You guys go. I'll handle this." I stated plainly. The two shrugged and walked away. After a moment, I turned back to Lacey who continued to avert her gaze. She seemed surprised when I smiled gently and gave her a pat on the back. "You doing okay?" We talked for a little while about various things. Eventually, the topic of the body swap came up. Again, she apologized. I smiled and said that I forgave her. Not long after, I gave her my phone number and told her she could call or text me any time. I started inviting her to sit with me during lunch. A lot of my friends disapproved. Riley flat out stopped speaking to me, but I didn't mind. After the few friends that stayed got to know Lacey, they loved her. She was quiet around those she didn't know, but once she warmed up to them, we all found her morbid sense of humor and peculiar interests to be endearing. We started hanging out more and more. I taught Lacey how to work on her social skills and to be more confident. Lacey taught me how to be more tolerant and understanding of people's struggles. A few months later, Lacey's mother was arrested. Her two sisters went to live with a relative, but after explaining her situation to my parents, Lacey moved into our guest bedroom. She recieved support from everyone in the school. Lacey won prom queen her senior year. I was the runner up. Lacey wore a long black dress and looked like she was going to attend a funeral and I wore a short pink puffy dress with glittering jewelry. We looked so different, but everybody knew we were inseparable. The two most popular girls in school. Some would even attest that we knew each other so well, we could switch bodies once a week and nobody would even notice.	"This, isn't going to plan." It felt odd, writing in someone else's diary, but for as long as people call me Nigel I planned on writing in Nigel's diary. The first four months were great. I made friends, and remade others. My grades are higher than they've even been, despite it all being my usual quality of work (can't wait to call teachers out on that one.) Seeing that smug child self-sabotage so spectacularly might have elicited a little schadenfreude if I wasn't going to have to deal with the consequences of those down the road. This should all feel so... satisfying. Being right should feel so good. So how infuriating it is that it doesn't. It doesn't, therefore it can't be going to plan. Thw lunch hall was getting busier, so I packed the diary away in my bag and continued to mindlessly twirl my fork around in the cold spaghetti. Carla flicked a grain of rice at my nose and, regaining my sense of presence, I looked up to see her grinning. No matter how much I insist her little fangs are cute, she maintains nothing will deter her from 'fixing' them with braces someday. Secrets are really hard to keep, sometimes. I felt the chemistry, but didn't want to address it, not in someone else's body. I sighed out loud, somewhat unintentionally. Carla and Ben were the couple people wouldn't quit gossiping about. We were madly in love, and I just left. For all the crap I give Nigel about his insecurities, I threw away my shot at 'the one' because I was terrified of being used. I didn't know it at the time, not consciously, but being sat across from her like this and feeling completely at ease, knowing my inner self was the person she was drawn to this entire time? I was right about Nigel. I was wrong about the one person who mattered.
[WP] You were forced to swap bodies with the biggest nerd in school who knowingly did it. Instead of demanding your body back, you decide to teach the nerd some self worth by becoming the most popular person in school in the nerd's body	"This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of," I said to Bobby flat out. "It works, Lisa! I know it works!" "Are you going to demonstrate it?" I asked, mainly just teasing. "Help me take it to school for the science fair and I'll show you!" he replied proudly. I agreed. Turned out Justin, the football team captain was bent out of shape that I was going to drive Bobby to school on Friday instead of him. He keeps asking me out, but the more I get to know him the more he seems like kind of an ass. Nevertheless, I picked up Bobby on Friday morning and helped him load his science project into the back of my Camaro. Another car came by and slowed as it passed. "Hey!" Crap, it was Justin. "Found another ride!" He was sitting in the passenger side of Chelsea's car. I walked over while Bobby continued loading his equipment. "What are you doing with that nerd?" asked Chelsea softly. "Yeah, what are you doing with that nerd?" asked Justin loudly enough for the neighborhood to hear. I'm sure Bobby pretended not to hear. "He's my neighbor, he just needed help getting his science project to school." "What are you doing after cheerleading practice?" "I've got ju jitsu tonight." "Aw, ju jitsu is stupid," sneered Justin. He'd gone with me once, trying to get me interested in him. They'd mopped the floor with him. Chelsea rolled her eyes and I smiled back at her. Have fun with Justin, I thought, and went back to my Camaro to help Bobby get the trunk closed. He really was a nerd, a gangly kid always dressed in rumpled clothes, usually with his head in a book, and unable to look anyone in the eye. But we'd grown up next door to each other. He was a nice guy. Not anyone I'd ever be serious about, though. Chelsea knew that. --- We set the machine up in the hall behind the science room. There were some of the other geeks setting their projects up when we got there, but it took us longer to get Bobby's set up. I kept trying to weasel out and he kept trying to convince me to wait so he could show me it works. "You wanted to see a demonstration! Just give me a second to finish and I'll show you!" I rolled my eyes. "OK, well explain it to me again." He went into a long boring spiel about capturing brain states and storing them in a raid array and transposing them to opposite neural nets. A whole bunch of stuff that sounded kind of like an explanation of how bluetooth headphones work. But it was supposed to switch brains. I figure if it makes me smarter, maybe I'll pass my math quiz during fourth bell today. "OK, ready?" I nodded, really just ready to be done with this and off to class. There was a sort of 'pop!' and I think I passed out. I opened my eyes and I was looking in a mirror. Then I saw myself get up. That wasn't me... I looked down at myself, at the rumpled clothes I was wearing. I jumped up, and nearly fell back on my face. How does anyone function with limbs like this? I left myself looking astonished in the back hall and ran to the girl's room. There was no one in the halls, first bell must have rung already. In the bathroom I looked in the mirror. I was Bobby. I guess Bobby was me now. I looked at the rumpled clothes, the dishevelled hair. This wouldn't do. Just for curiosity's sake I stepped into a stall and unzipped. Hmm. Quite respectable. I'd have to rethink this whole nerd thing. Resisting the temptation to stay and play, I started out. "Hey what are you doing in the girls' room?" I looked over at the hall monitor standing at the door. Of course. "Sorry, my bad," I said, brushing past her. I didn't give her time to decide what to do. I went back to the science hall, Bobby was gone. I wondered if he was as shocked as I was. No telling where he'd run. I'd have to find him later. I headed back to my locker, opened it up and grabbed my credit card and spare car key. Time to play hookey and get a haircut and some new clothes. I'd be back by lunch and maybe find Bobby and get this straightened out. I sure didn't want to go to his classes. --- Strolled back in a few minutes before the fourth bell. A few people in the courtyard were giving me funny looks. It took me a minute to figure out why. I was walking taller, no slouch, had my glasses- er, Bobby's glasses, in my pocket. Probably looked like a different person. Chelsea looked at me with her eyes wide. I winked and smiled at her. She blushed and looked away. The other cheerleaders laughed, but it was not the derisive laugh that I usually see Bobby get. It was a laugh at someone being bold and getting away with it. Suddenly, Justin was standing in front of me. "There you are you little twerp." I stopped up short. Suddenly the courtyard was quiet. "Trying to steal my girl from me are you?" "I don't think she's your girl, Justin. In fact, I don't think she even likes you." There was a murmur around the yard. Juston looked a shade angry all of a sudden. And I realized in a flash that I was in a very different situation than I was used to. Juston would never take a swing at me. But he would take a swing at Bobby. Well, if Bobby would use his math skills to take my quiz next bell, maybe I could use my ju jitsu skills to help him out. I hoped they transferred over. Justin shoved me. It was way more strength than a man had ever used on me before and I realized it was a little scary. But for a good ju jitsu showing, I wanted to get him to really commit. I put on my best nonchalant look. "Really?" I sneered, leaning my chin towards him a bit. The crowd 'ooohed' and he grew enraged and took the bait. He swung hard. I slipped the punch easily, having sort of set him up for it. His face got red and he swung again. His rage made it easy to slip the next one. Then he charged and I side stepped and directed him towards the brick wall of the building. His shoulder made a crunchy sound. He sat down hard and I just left him there. --- After fourth bell, Chelsea was standing in the in the hallway with some of the other cheerleaders. I walked right up to her, and she was obviously taken aback that Bobby Brenton had the nerve. "Hey Chelsea," I said. She looked me up and down. Sharp-dressed, head high, and no problem talking to whatever social class you think you are. She was still trying to figure this out. Keep on it, honey. "Where's Lisa?" Chelsea made the right decision to play me straight. "She was in the bathroom all first period and then went home sick. She wouldn't talk to any of us." Nods all around. "OK, thanks. I'll see you around." I turned and walked without waiting for any acknowledgement. Things are going to be different for you from now on, Bobby Brenton. I walked out the doors to my Camaro. Bobby must have walked home. Of course he wouldn't think to take my car. I reached in my jeans and dug out my spare key again. Jackie Tillman saw me headed towards the parking lot. He ran over, trying to hold all his books and push his glasses up at the same time. "Where you going Bobby? Are you taking Lisa's car? What's going on?" "Yeah," I told him, "I gotta go check on Lisa. I'll catch you later." I gave him the chin nod as I turned away, leaving him with his jaw hanging. "Gotta find out what Bobby's doing with my body," I finished under my breath.	"This, isn't going to plan." It felt odd, writing in someone else's diary, but for as long as people call me Nigel I planned on writing in Nigel's diary. The first four months were great. I made friends, and remade others. My grades are higher than they've even been, despite it all being my usual quality of work (can't wait to call teachers out on that one.) Seeing that smug child self-sabotage so spectacularly might have elicited a little schadenfreude if I wasn't going to have to deal with the consequences of those down the road. This should all feel so... satisfying. Being right should feel so good. So how infuriating it is that it doesn't. It doesn't, therefore it can't be going to plan. Thw lunch hall was getting busier, so I packed the diary away in my bag and continued to mindlessly twirl my fork around in the cold spaghetti. Carla flicked a grain of rice at my nose and, regaining my sense of presence, I looked up to see her grinning. No matter how much I insist her little fangs are cute, she maintains nothing will deter her from 'fixing' them with braces someday. Secrets are really hard to keep, sometimes. I felt the chemistry, but didn't want to address it, not in someone else's body. I sighed out loud, somewhat unintentionally. Carla and Ben were the couple people wouldn't quit gossiping about. We were madly in love, and I just left. For all the crap I give Nigel about his insecurities, I threw away my shot at 'the one' because I was terrified of being used. I didn't know it at the time, not consciously, but being sat across from her like this and feeling completely at ease, knowing my inner self was the person she was drawn to this entire time? I was right about Nigel. I was wrong about the one person who mattered.
[WP] One person can draw anything they can imagine, and it'll become reality. The other can draw something that already exists and then erase it, and it will no longer exist in real life. One is a villain and the other is a hero.	I stood across the table from the most insidious person I have ever met "So what are you going to do?" he smirked He erased something again, that I'm sure of, he has a lot of pride and wouldn't come here just to mess with me he showed me two drawings The first of a normal Horse with a singular horn on it The other was an also a horse, but its neck and legs were stretched out to impossible lengths and covered in orange spots The terms were, one of the two were erased yesterday, exactly one, not both or neither. It was my job to figure out which one was the correct one and bring it back. The stakes? He claims to have deleted a southeast Asian country and won't tell me how to restore it unless I guess right. I managed to save Panama, Atlantis, Somalia, and Mongolia this way. He always held up his end of the bargain. I couldn't call the police since everything he draws is erased. All of it, memories, living creatures, etc. Meaning no evidence to convict him. That said, It will leave traces such as constructed mythology that results in humanity reaching the same current point in history. I couldn't kill him either, I was a hero, not a vigilante This "Unicorn" as he called it, was probably real. It is the national animal of Scotland and a horn on a horse is hardly difficult to believe. No country would have a fictional animal as their national animal. On the other hand, this "Giraffe", was stupid. There is no way such an animal ever existed, that neck, those colors, those legs. How could something like that exist? But something felt off, it was too easy. I had started drawing the unicorn on my sketchpad, he still had that smirk on his face Believe in yourself me, he's playing with you But that Platypus thing last week turned out to be real as well No, the last time I made a long-necked animal, it was 20 meters long ocean reptile. It was basically a dinosaur and the fact it's still in the oceans today terrifies me. Would he pull the same trick twice though? Screw this, ignoring the stupidness of the Giraffe, there is no way he would make such an easy choice, pulling the same trick twice, and be content with his victory of a horse with a singular horn coming into existence I tore up my drawing, opened a new page, drew a 5-meter tall horse with disgustingly long neck and legs, and colored it in with orange spots. "That your choice?" he asked, he was clearly shaken by my sudden turnaround Not sure if it a good or bad way "Yes" I replied I chanted "By the great creator, please bestow upon us this hideous creature" He opened his phone and checked to see if the animal had been created, sure enough, it was "Yeah, you're right, good guess," he said acknowledging his defeat, "Here are the documents for how to restore Arstotzka" He slid a packet of documents over to me describing the culture, architecture, geography, and history towards me "So this Arstotzka is basically North Korea?" "More or less, just without nukes". He paused for a moment, "Honestly didn't expect you to get it right, you know, the world might be slightly better off without Arstotzka, you could choose not to restore them" His normally very cocky attitude had toned down a fair bit, almost like he was implying something. I wasn't having any of it. "Don't be stupid, of course, I'm going to restore it" He was right though, it wasn't a country I was keen on restoring but they still had the right to live	You love your job! It isn’t even a job! It’s just your life! You can do anything! If you want a chocolate river, you’ll make a chocolate river! If you want a Cotten candy lion, you’ll get a Cotten candy lion! Some people don’t like your drawings, but what do they know? They’ve probably just been spending too much time with your sister. Oh look! That’s her there! You can’t wait to show her the liquorice hydra! ———— You hate your job. No, you hate your life. Ever since you and your brother found out you had powers your world has been turned upside down. Once literally. You can erase anything you can draw, which, since your a terrible artist, isn't much. Your brother can bring anything to life that he draws. Unfortunately, his power isn’t as picky with his drawing skill. You look at the latest den of chaos he’s created and try to find him. It doesn’t take long. “Hey sis! Look what I made!” Looking towards the sound, you see him in a magicians costume next to a massive serpentine mess of liquorice. You rush over to him while he explains what it is. “Isn’t it awesome! It’s just like the one Hercules fought!” You don’t bother explaining that Hercules didn’t fight liquorice and snatch the drawings out of his hand. Without a moments hesitation you start erasing what he’s drawn. “Oh come on! Not again!” He starts hitting you. As he’s half your size, it doesn’t do anything. As you finish erasing the chaos inducing drawings he pulls out the deadliest weapon in his arsenal. “I’M TELLING MOM!” You hate your job.
[WP] You've never been much into religon. A new friend you've recently met relentlessly tries to get you into it. To humor them, you agree to join in a prayer. As you start, a voice responds back.	In retrospect, I interpreted this prompt rather loosely. ------------------------------------ It was a frosty morning in October and I sat sprawled out on the couch, a furry blanket over my legs and my laptop over that. My college lecture played in one half of the screen while I browsed facebook in the other. My coffee grew steadily colder on the coffee table and by all accounts it was an uneventful morning. The news on my feed carried the headlines of more little boys assaulted by Catholic priests, more of the usual strife in the Middle East, and more unrest about abortion. I never really got the whole religion thing, I mean, do people really believe all this s***'s got some grand plan? And who wants an "all powerful being" telling them what to do anyway? The bombardment was getting me worked up and I hadn't even registered a third of what the professor was saying. Time for tumblr. My roommate walked in bringing an icy draft with her as she opened the door. I recoiled my feet under the blanket in protest. She was usually bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed after her morning lectures but today her face was drawn with some unspoken distress. "Fail a test?" I joked. "No." She replied, holding back. "Actually, could you do me a favor?" "Depends." I said, curious. "You know my astronomy club?" She asked. "Yeah." I followed. "Well, we were gonna have a party tonight, an initiation of sorts, like for pledges, but we're a man short. Michael is sick." She continued. "Okay." I nodded. "Would you be willing to come help out?" She asked. "Sure." I answered. "Great." She responded, clearly relieved. "By the way, we like to do a little act to scare the pledges. Do you mind memorizing a few lines? If not you can always use notecards, but I think the effect is better when memorized." "I can give it a shot." I replied, harkening back to drama class in middle school. I looked over the lines a few times and had them memorized after about the fourth read. They were pretty simple stuff, but some of the other people had some beefy roles with quite a bit to remember. The eveing came and went and soon the sun had set and the bloated, yellow moon had peaked over the naked treetops. We arrived at the observatory, a small set of rooms on the roof of the physics building. A large telescope formed the highest floor with a rotating dome over it, allowing for viewing of the entire sky, one sliver at a time. That night, however we went out on the roof beside the dome where 11 other people stood waiting in a circle. They stood around some chalk drawing, maybe a set of planets or a star chart. The symbols and shapes meant nothing to me. There were 3 pledges, all easily recognized by the tattered white apron over their clothes while the remaining 8 people wore pressed black robes with colored satin aprons symbolizing their role in the ceremony. My roommate and I donned our black robes and colored aprons and took the two remaining places at the circle. The club president walked around the circle with a bowl and collected our phones and set the bowl inside the observatory, turning off the lights on his way back. He re-entered the circle, placing a lit candle at its center, likely a symbol of the sun. It shed little light, but in the full moonlight I could almost make out everyone's faces. Suddenly, and with a striking degree of gravity, the others began reciting their lines. Silently I mouthed all the words, counting down to my part. I even whispered some of the pledge responses. My time to speak still startled me and there was a noticeable pause, but I said the lines, loudly, clearly and sincerely to which the pledges responded. After getting out my last line, a feeling of relief washed over me, the freedom of being done with public speaking. It was short lived, however, because a deep disquiet rose in me from the depths of my heart. For a moment the shadows grew inwards from the periphery of my sight and time was irrelevant. The candle at the circle center flickered brighter as the wind ceased. A low voice addressed me by name and said, "welcome. I've been waiting for you. You know, together we'll accomplish great things." "Who are you?" I whispered under my breath. Logically I should have guessed I was hallucinating, but deep down I knew it was real. "You know me. You spoke my name just tonight. I am the Morning Star. I am Lucifer." A chill went down my spine and froze me to my bones. I stood there, in shock, until my senses returned, the shadows faded, and the group's speech resumed. The moment had passed, but that dark disquiet in my heart remained.	Oh, shut up, shut up, shut up.... &#x200B; "C'mon man, there's not a downside or anything. I know you don't believe in spirits and gods and etc. but, like I said before, no downside!" Geophree kept badgering m- what? Oh, his name? Yeah, Geophree is his name. I was confused at first too, but, um... I don't know. It's just a name, right? I guess his parents wanted to be special or something. Anyway, that's beside the point. No more questions. &#x200B; "Well, there's a couple of downsides. It takes time, and, well what if I die on the way?" &#x200B; "Wha… what if you die?" He did that sort nose exhale that people do when they find something funny, but not funny enough to laugh. You know what I mean, right? Yeah? Good. "Well, there's always a risk to die. You haven't died yet, have you?" &#x200B; "No, but time is an issue." &#x200B; Geophree kept going, "It's just half an hour. It's not a formal event or anything, just some religious folks gathering around in a few prayers." &#x200B; At this point, I was tired, I was cold, and I was tired of Geophree's sh\t. "Fine," I said, "I'll go." &#x200B; "Alright! I'll see ya then. Remember, you have to be up by 2." "Yeah, yeah, I know. You've burned it into my head already." "That's the idea," He smiled, left my car, and walked away. I took this opportunity to watch the sun set. The oranges, yellows, reds, all mixing together. Beautiful. I started up my car and walked away. &#x200B; \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- &#x200B; Alright fellas, listen up. Here comes the interesting part. What, you were already listening? Listen harder, then! &#x200B; I was just going through my morning routine, y'know. Showering, breakfast, all that other stuff. And just after I put my pants on, I heard a beep from my phone. I observed the clock, 1:52, before I read the text, unaware that I was nearly late for the prayer that I had forgotten about. But the text is why I had picked up the phone, so, I read it. &#x200B; "Hey, I'm parked out on your driveway. When you're ready, text back."* &#x200B; I sent back, "Geophree wtf. y r u in my driveway???" &#x200B; "The prayer is today. Y'know, the one you agreed to last night?" &#x200B; "Oh sht I forgot lul ill be out in a sec" &#x200B; I slipped my shoes on, jammed in a last spoonful of cereal, and walked out the door. &#x200B; "Oh, we're gonna be so late..." &#x200B; "Don't worry Geoph. It's just an informal prayer, right?" &#x200B; "You make a good point there, Jimmy. But we should still hurry." &#x200B; "Yeah, well, you're driving. I can't speed us up." &#x200B; He pulled out of the driveway. His car made a deep rumbling sound. It was old and rusted, which made me uncomfortable. &#x200B; \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- &#x200B; I looked at the clock. 2:06. "Hey Geoph, we're late." &#x200B; "No sh\t, sherlock" I giggled softly. It was hard to get Geophree to get angry. Might've been something with how he was so religious. &#x200B; "It's lucky we got here when we did. Late, but not too* late." &#x200B; "Yeah, one-sixth of the prayer not attended is just fine." &#x200B; Geophree breathed aggressively and glared at me. Still a little upset, I assume. &#x200B; \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- &#x200B; After we entered the building, we just sat there for a minute, letting the people there finish they're prayer. Something about a messiah, I wasn't really listening. After they were done, what I assumed was the leader of the group welcomed me. He was kinda stereotypical. Long, grey beard, old, wore odd clothes. Very friendly. He held out his hand. &#x200B; "Hello, mister..." &#x200B; "You can call me Jimmy. Geoph badgered me here." &#x200B; "Oh, he did now?" &#x200B; "Well, he wouldn't have come here himself." Geophree argued. &#x200B; "Not religious, I assume?" The leader guy questioned. We both nodded. "That's okay. I won't force you to repeat anything with us. You can sit with us if you want to." &#x200B; "Alright. Sure. Why not?" &#x200B; Geophree and beard guy (Who's name I have not received yet) along with two other sat on their knees in a circle, with their hands together. I sat next to Geoph and beard guy, where I felt the most comfortable. Beard guy started to recite some religious stuff that I couldn't care less about. Still, I listened. I realized they were doing the same prayer again, the one about the messiah. I looked up, and realized their eyes were closed. So I closed mine. I let beard guy's words flow through one ear and out the other. &#x200B; \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- &#x200B; A few minutes had passed when I had zoned back in. And, boy, was I panicked. I hadn't even remember what I was thinking about, but I knew time had passed. Oddly enough, the prayer seemed to still be going. After multiple minutes. My eyes were still closed, I wanted to be respectful, after all. But through my eyelids things seemed bright. The lights were on, yeah, but it seemed a little more bright. &#x200B; They stopped abruptly. &#x200B; I may not be religious, but I panicked a bit. I guess humans just instinctually fear things. My eyes flew open. I was staring at the ground. The bright ground. The ground that had mixed reds, yellows, and oranges. Terrifying. You may be saying, Oh boy, they set him on fire as a sacrifice! Honestly, I don't know. I don't think so, though. I would've been in a lot a pain, but the ground was bright, and now I'm here... &#x200B; ...uh, where is here, by the way? Are you, like, God? Well, if you were you would know my story already... &#x200B; You're reading this? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is this a book or a comic book or something? &#x200B; Y'know what? I don't want to know. I've probably been stitched up by some sh\itty 14 year old. That's probably why my parents died when I was young. Wait. That's.... why my parents died! F\CK YOU, WRITER! I'll find a way out of this stupid story and kill your a\*s! &#x200B; If I'm gonna kill this writer I gotta get outta here. And I still don't know where here is. &#x200B; \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- &#x200B; I should stop here. This is far too long for something so mediocre. I'll probably make a part 2 later, most of this is before the big climax and it never gets resolved, so I guess I don't have a choice.
[WP] A little girl grows up thinking all doors are automatic, but it’s just a really polite ghost haunting her. At age 16, she discovers the ghost’s existence.	Thud. Jessica’s phone clattered to the ground. She stood rubbing her forehead, staring in front of her; at the door which, to her consternation, remained closed. Retrieving her phone and taking a step backwards, she tried again. Thud. She blinked, confused. ‘This doesn’t usually happen,’ she thought, ‘must be broken.’ Looking down, she spied the door handle. An archaic implement from the times before doors were automated, Jessica had always assumed. She had never used one. Tentatively, she poked it. Nothing happened. She pulled on the door handle. Still nothing. She ran her thumb along its length, like she was unlocking a phone. Stubbornly, the door refused to open. Infuriated and out of ideas, Jessica hammered on the door with her fist. ‘Mum! Mum, the door’s broken!’ she cried. Continuing in this way for a few seconds, the door was eventually opened by her mother, a wry grin on her face. ‘You’re still pretending the door is automatic?’ she asked. Jessica laughed sarcastically. Her mum liked to pretend that the door wasn’t automatic. The door, like the rest of the house, was old, but Jessica knew that all door were automatic now. Just like horse-drawn carriages and gas-fuelled lamps, manual doors belonged to a bygone age. ‘Very funny,’ she said. ‘When’s it getting fixed?’ Her mother just rolled her eyes in response, returning to the living room without a word. Jessica stood just inside the entrance for a moment, peeved at her mother’s irritating sense of humour. Releasing an exasperated sigh, she jogged upstairs to her room. Reaching the door to her room, she paused, cautious. ‘Perhaps she’s disabled all the doors in the house,’ thought Jessica, regarding her mother. ‘Wouldn’t put it past her. She probably thinks its funny, watching me walk into doors.’ To her relief, the door did open upon her careful approach. Muttering under her breath, she entered, taking a seat at the desk. Behind her, the door swung closed, as it always did. Booting up the computer, Jessica first checked her Facebook, then Reddit, then back to Facebook, eventually tabbing in to youtube and settling down to watch something really not worth watching. A few minutes went by, then Jessica was interrupted by a touch to her shoulder. Spinning around in her chair, Jessica began to speak: ‘Mum? What’s u--,’ then stopped. Before her was not her mother. Before her was a boy, maybe a year or two older than she was, dressed in a shirt and corduroys. Behind him, directly behind him, Jessica could see the various things she might expect see if there weren’t a person stood in the way, unobscured except for a faint blue tint. ‘Excuse me, miss,’ said the ghost, eyes fixed on the ground, his hand grasping the wrist of the other arm. ‘It’s just --.’ Jessica inhaled, making to scream. ‘No, no, no, no!’ said the ghost. ‘Please, miss. If you yell, I’ll be forced to make myself scarce, and then I won’t be able to say what I’ve got to. Please, I’m begging you, miss: hear me.’ Jessica, recovering from the initial shock, admitted to herself that the apparition didn’t seem terribly threatening. Nevertheless, her voice wavered when she spoke. ‘Go on then,’ she said. The ghost looked relieved. ‘Thank you, miss, truly.’ Here, the ghost paused, considering what to say. 'Here’s the short and the long of it: I’m here to apologise. ‘Apologise?’ Asked Jessica, confused. ‘What for?’ ‘For not opening the door, miss. I’m terribly sorry, it’s just-- Well, I was distracted, you see? You look so much like her of late, I couldn’t help but recall …’ ‘I don’t understand,’ said Jessica. ‘I look like who? And yourself; who are you, even? And … The door? You opened it?’ ‘If it pleases you, miss, I’ll explain.’ Silently, Jessica nodded. ‘This house was once an inn, you see? Ran by my father and myself. Mother died when I was young. Anyway, one night, the inn was empty, just Father and I sat afore the fire in the main room.’ He gestured downward, towards where Jessica’s mother sat watching TV. ‘It was a winter night, moonless, dark. Father didn’t expect there to be any travellers abroad, so the front door was locked tight, windows shuttered. We were about retire when, all of a sudden, there came a battering on the front door. A young lady - one that I found later looked much like yourself - was outside. She was frantic, begging to be let in. From what I could discern of her desperate cries, she and her family had been set upon by highwaymen. The lass had managed to escape, but was pursued, and so begged for sanctuary inside the inn. I jumped to, of course, eager to respond, but Father held me back. “Dont,” he said, “It’s all a trick, we’re being duped.” I struggled, but the coward had me fast. I couldn’t help you. Her. I couldn’t help her, couldn’t open the door for her. I wanted to open it so badly. At the very least, she wouldn’t have died alone that way. It didn’t take long before the cries of the young lady were cut short. After that, Father hoped we’d be left alone, that if we hid, the bandits wouldn’t bother with us.’ The ghost looked down at his translucent body. ‘You can see how well that plan worked for us.’ Silence reigned. For a full minute, Jessica couldn’t think of anything to say. Incapable of finding anything better, she asked, ‘So … You open doors for me?’ ‘I do,’ replied the ghost. ‘It’s the only thing that brings me any satisfaction anymore.’ Again, silence. Eventually, Jessica looked up. ‘I-- uh. I think I want to go some place.’ The ghost, meeting her eye, nodded. ‘Thank you, miss,’ he said, even as he slowly disappeared. Without a sound, the door opened wide.	Alice walked through the front door, opening before her, as always. Before the door closes she hears a voice. “m’lady” the voice says. “Huh?” She says, confused, “who said that?” A floating fedora (slightly tilted to one side) comes through the door. Alice screams, at the floating thing on the doorway. A voice coming out of the fedora exclaims, “Why, that is way too much noise for my liking! I should be off, anyway, goodbye dear.” The door opens again, the fedora leaves, and the door closes behind it. She could here footsteps coming down the stairs. “Honey! Honey, are you all right?” Her mother asks coming into view. “I’m fine” she replies. “Well then you shouldn’t scream like that, you almost gave me a heart attack! You’re grounded for a week!” “Bu-“ “No buts, go to your room, now!” “Yes mom,” Alice says, defeated, she goes to her room and walks to the door, or rather, into the door. The door didn’t open for her... “Mom, the automatic door is broken for my room!” She calls down.... “What automatic door?” Her mom asks....... Sorry for grammar and spelling mistakes I’m on mobile....
[WP] A little girl grows up thinking all doors are automatic, but it’s just a really polite ghost haunting her. At age 16, she discovers the ghost’s existence.	Becky stood on her porch, wondering what had gone wrong with the front door. It remained shut no matter how close she drew near. Becky was close enough to the door to smell the chipped paint, the old wood underneath, even the familiar smell of her home beyond the door. Yet still it remained closed. As long as she could remember this door—as all doors she’d ever come across—opened automatically. Even when staying at hotels, while others had to swipe their plastic keycards, all Becky had to do was approach the door's threshold and they would yield. The first time Becky had seen the repulsion of two magnets with similar poles, she had thought, ‘Oh, that’s like what’s happening with me and doors. I’m the same pole as the door, and when I get close it just gets so repulsed by me, it opens up.’ She didn’t know whether to take that as an insult or not, but it did explain the strange phenomenon—well, strange to others. Becky had been living with it for what seemed like her entire life. Becky pressed her face against the door. It felt hard and cold against her cheek. Frowning, Becky jiggled the handle. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually had to use one. ‘It’s simple right? You just turn it.’ She’d seen it done a thousand times by others. Even children can use them. So why was she having such a difficult time? A voice inside her head whispered, ‘You can't open it.’ Becky let her hand fall from the handle, her knuckles dragged against the door as her hand fell to her side. Becky sighed. She patted her pockets, but she knew she didn’t have the key to the door. Why would she? Doors had always opened themselves up, locked or not. Raising her hand to knock, that same voice called out to her, “No!” It wasn’t inside her head this time. It was loud, really loud, causing Becky to wince and pull her left shoulder up as if it would help protect her. Becky turned and saw a boy standing beside her. To say he was a little pale would have been like saying a rock is a little unmoving. His skin had a blue hue to it that made him look like he had just walked out of a walk-in freezer. Becky imagined one of those blue tinged hands reaching out and touching her on the arm or shoulder. She shivered and broke out in goosebumps at the thought. Despite the boy’s frozen appearance, his eyes exuded warmth. On top of that, they seemed familiar. Had she seen this boy before? He looked to be the same age as her, but definitely was not in any of her classes at school. She would definitely have remembered someone this odd… and blue. “No.” The boy repeated as he put a hand against the door. He shook his head. Becky narrowed her eyes, and glared at him. Who was he to say she couldn’t enter her own home? The same day she loses the strange ability to open doors without having to touch them or think about them, this boy shows up and starts giving her commands? She would have shoved him away from the door if he had not been so blue. The boy's kind eyes soothed her anger. They said what his words didn’t. A lot can be gathered from a person’s eyes. There’s a reason why they're called the windows to the soul. Real or not, figurative or literal, the eyes are that window. If a person knew how to look, they could tell what kind of soul someone had with a high confidence interval. Becky, like most people, had the subconscious tool set to see that this boy was not a danger to her. She was still angry. Crossing her arms Becky asked, “And why can’t I go inside? I have a mountain of homework and I'm hungry." The boy sighed. “I'm sorry. Usually I would have already opened this door and let you pass. This time I can’t.” Becky’s eyes widened. “You.” She pointed a finger at his chest. She left an inch or so of room, she didn’t want to actually touch him. “That’s where I’ve seen you.” It had been years ago. Becky must have been four or five. She had fallen behind her parents and had found herself all alone on a busy sidewalk. Adults like towering giants brushed past her. Becky could still remember the rising fear, the quickening of her heart like a tiny drumroll building to a painful intensity. Then a door had opened. A boy her own age had pulled it back, revealing her parents talking to store clerk. The boy had smiled at her. The memory replayed itself with perfect movie quality. At the end, Becky was slammed back to the present. That boy was here, just a little older, same as Becky. “Wait. So you’ve been opening doors for me all these years?” “Yes.” “Why? Who are you? Don’t you have, like, parents and a life of your own?” He shook his head. “I…” He looked to the side. Becky watched as the boy seemed to search for his memories. Pain transformed his face into a horrible grimace. Forgetting her revulsion to the boy, Becky tried to place a hand on his shoulder. Her hand went through his body like he was made of smoke or some kind of warm vapor. A small amount of condensation covered her hand as if she’d let it hover over the steam from a boiling pot of water. “What the hell?” She heard herself say. “I died. I don’t usually remember it. I don't like to.” His voice was almost pouty, like a sullen kid that didn't want to do some chore. The boy tried to resume his previous smile, but it seemed some of the pain still lingered from earlier. “I was lost like you, but I didn’t have someone to show me the way back.” Becky didn’t know what to say. She pinched her forearm and felt the expected stinging sensation—she wasn’t dreaming. “I’ve lost it then. There must have been some kind of residual radiation or something from the doors opening for me, and after years of exposure my brain is a melting goop.” The boy shook his head. “I’ve been opening them for you. Your brain,” He cocked his head to the side. “It’s not ‘goop’.” He reached out and took her hand. This time she felt a solid presence from him. His skin was cool, but not cold. “How—” “No time to explain. You need to get away.” His eyes widened, they were serious and worried. “Now!” The boy pulled her off her porch. Down the steps and across the yard into the neighbor’s lawn. He led her to her neighbor’s driveway, behind a small retaining wall they could crouch behind. Just as the boy pulled her down, Becky’s front door exploded outward. Two men in Halloween masks carried an assortment of her family’s possessions in their arms. Becky stood to shout at them, but the boy pulled her down again. The men carried the items to a white van parked around the corner. “What if my mom is home?” Becky hissed at the boy who still held her hand in a tight grip. “She’s not. She’s at the store with your brother.” He let go of her hand. He gave her a pleading look. Becky sighed and crouched back down. She reached out and tried to grab his hand, but it was like trying to grab at steam. “How come I can’t feel you, but you can grab doors and my hand?” He shrugged as if to say, ‘I don’t make the rules.’ He pointed to her side pocket. Becky smacked her forehead. “Duh, my phone.” She pulled it out and dialed the police. After she reported the crime, the woman on the other end told her to stay on the line until the police arrived. Becky covered the phone with her palm and whispered, “There’ll be here soo—” The boy was gone. Becky looked around but all she saw was an empty driveway. Peeking over the retaining wall she saw the men carrying more of her family’s electronics and some of her mother’s jewelry. No sign of the boy. I didn’t even get to ask him his name. She thought with a sinking heart. Eventually, the police came, but the men and the white van had left minutes before. Becky gave an account of what she saw, minus her strange friend. Becky lied and said she’d heard loud sounds coming from inside her house and thought to hide. The police complimented her on her quick thinking. After the police left and her mother and brother came home, they went inside to a house half-full. Becky’s room had been mostly devoid of valuables to start with. She hoped—with crossed fingers—that they didn’t take much from her room. As she entered the hallway outside her bedroom, Becky heard the blood-curdling shriek of her little brother, followed by a wail of “They took my PlayStation! I had just gotten an Arabian horse with full stats!” Becky rolled her eyes and shook her head. The door to her room opened, slowly, before she could even think to reach for the handle. Becky smiled and looked around. She was alone in the hallway. Or was she…? &nbsp; ------- 12,469 / 50,000 Words of NaNoWriMo short story goal.	Alice walked through the front door, opening before her, as always. Before the door closes she hears a voice. “m’lady” the voice says. “Huh?” She says, confused, “who said that?” A floating fedora (slightly tilted to one side) comes through the door. Alice screams, at the floating thing on the doorway. A voice coming out of the fedora exclaims, “Why, that is way too much noise for my liking! I should be off, anyway, goodbye dear.” The door opens again, the fedora leaves, and the door closes behind it. She could here footsteps coming down the stairs. “Honey! Honey, are you all right?” Her mother asks coming into view. “I’m fine” she replies. “Well then you shouldn’t scream like that, you almost gave me a heart attack! You’re grounded for a week!” “Bu-“ “No buts, go to your room, now!” “Yes mom,” Alice says, defeated, she goes to her room and walks to the door, or rather, into the door. The door didn’t open for her... “Mom, the automatic door is broken for my room!” She calls down.... “What automatic door?” Her mom asks....... Sorry for grammar and spelling mistakes I’m on mobile....
[WP] A little girl grows up thinking all doors are automatic, but it’s just a really polite ghost haunting her. At age 16, she discovers the ghost’s existence.	The door creaked open. She didn't look at it as she slipped through, didn't give it a second thought. Why bother? It wasn't anything new. Her classmates all whispered behind her back, calling her gullible. Stupid. But every time they did, she only insisted all the harder. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't. She was certain of it - every time she reached for a door, it slid away from her touch, opening entirely on its own before she could touch it. Of course, it never happened when anyone else was looking. And it wasn't just new doors. She'd peered up at door frame after door frame, looking for the springs. Looking for the closer. She'd found only bare wood and ancient hinges. But little by little, anything becomes normal, and so too did the mystery of the door. She stopped bringing it up to her mother, who in turn stopped worrying herself to death over her wayward, confused daughter. Little by little, the appointments with nice men and women in cozy, comforting rooms dwindled, finally stopping entirely. It didn't stop her from whispering "thank you" every time she slipped through an entryway. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she thought she could feel someone smiling at her, like eyes on the back of her neck. The years slipped on, and she wasn't a little girl anymore. The laughter of her friends rang in her ears as they slipped out of the convenience store. It might have been her imagination, but she thought the door opened ahead of them, waiting obstinately open for a single, patient second. She didn't give it a second glance. Whatever the door did was her business. Her phone was lit up with messages, texts from that boy in 6th period. The one who looked at her with those eyes, the ones that were endlessly blue and filled with laughter. A low chuckle slipped from her throat as she hesitated, glancing down at his latest message. Her steps slowed. Her friends reached the far side of the crosswalk, still laughing amongst themselves. They didn't notice. It was just a second, after all. Just a second, but long enough. The impact sent her flying. The phone fell from her hands, clattering across the asphalt. The screen shattered, sending all of those messages into blank, empty darkness. She didn't feel the ground when it rose up under her. --- Her eyes snapped open. Black. There was only....black. Her heartbeat accelerated as the memory of what had happened ran through her head. The texts. Her friends. The truck. Her pulse thundering in her ears, she threw herself upright, spinning in a circle. When she looked, she saw nothing. When she called, no one replied. Until a single sound rang through the darkness - soft, and indescribably smooth. Her eyes widened at the recognition that she wasn't alone, that she wasn't going to be swallowed up by the endless night. But when she spun, she froze a moment later. He didn't look anything like the pictures she'd always seen. He wasn't a skeleton. He wasn't particularly tall, or even all that scary. He was just a man in a black robe, his face hidden by the shadows. He didn't even have a scythe. She shrank back from him all the same. She knew. His hand slipped from its sleeve, rising. Beckoning. His fingers twitched, drawing her in closer. Despite herself, she found she was walking, stepping forward one quivering footstep at a time. Her eyes were fixed on the black where his face should have been, wide and terrified. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. The thought hung in her mind, suspended in a moment of terror. It wasn't. She wasn't supposed to die, not in a car crash. Not like that. She was too young. That happened to other people, people on the news and in TV shows. Not her. And yet, she couldn't stop. Her legs were shaking, her shoulders not far behind, but still the man called her forward with a look. A hand landed on her shoulder. She shivered, twitching as the robed man's hold on her faltered. A shape slipped past her - tall, and just as dark as the robed man. She recognized him all the same, even though she'd never seen him before. Her lips parted, sliding open as he pushed past her. His steps made no sound as he stalked out front. The robed man paused. His hand twitched, his fingers falling still. She waited, frozen in place, and stared at the scene playing out in front of her. She could hear them talking. The words cut through the darkness, lashing about her like wings flapping at midnight, like leaves rustling in a storm. They circled her, tantalizingly close and yet just out of her reach. They were arguing. She could tell that, somehow. Feel it. Not angrily. If anything, the robed man seemed almost...sad. She wasn't sure why she felt that, since she couldn't see his face, but she knew it all the same. The shadowed figure turned, looking back at her as the voices fell quiet at last. He smiled. No. She knew, knew that something had happened. A decision had been reached - one made entirely without her input, and she wasn't- she hadn't- Her legs shook as she broke into a run, but it was like she was caught in a dream. No matter how fast she ran, they were farther still. No matter how she reached, she couldn't quite touch him. The faintest rustle of cloth brushed against her fingertips as the world around her exploded into black. --- The truck's horn. She hadn't heard it before. She heard it then - loud, and right there, and she knew that she wasn't going to be able to move in time, and- A hand slammed into her back, hitting her hard enough she tumbled. A cry slipped from her lips as she fell hard, flying to the side. The truck careened past, leaving black streaks and the smell of burning rubber in its wake. She didn't move. She just sat where she was, frozen and shaking. When she looked up to where she was, there was no one there. --- Her friends were on her seconds later, screaming and crying and worrying. She was dragged here and there - the police station, the hospital. Her mother wrapped her in a hug, sobbing madly. She tolerated it all, somehow...shaken. Not by the truck, but by what had happened. By the feeling she couldn't quite push away. The feeling that something had changed. The doors didn't open for her anymore. She waited at each one, looking up, but they stayed resolutely in place. He was gone. She knew it. Even though she'd never known he was there before, known it was him, he'd always been waiting. And now he wasn't. Now she was alone. The picture frame on her mother's desk was never dusty. It was well-polished by the oil of the hands constantly picking it up. She was just the latest visitor, staring down into the pair of smiling faces. Her mother looked so beautiful in her dress. She'd always thought so. And he looked so nice in his suit - made even more handsome by the look in his eyes, the raw love there as he stared down at her mother. She hadn't been able to see his eyes. It was too dark. Had he looked at her like that? She couldn't be sure. But she liked to think so. And the thought made her feel just a little less alone. She smiled. --- (/r/inorai, critiques always welcome!)	Alice walked through the front door, opening before her, as always. Before the door closes she hears a voice. “m’lady” the voice says. “Huh?” She says, confused, “who said that?” A floating fedora (slightly tilted to one side) comes through the door. Alice screams, at the floating thing on the doorway. A voice coming out of the fedora exclaims, “Why, that is way too much noise for my liking! I should be off, anyway, goodbye dear.” The door opens again, the fedora leaves, and the door closes behind it. She could here footsteps coming down the stairs. “Honey! Honey, are you all right?” Her mother asks coming into view. “I’m fine” she replies. “Well then you shouldn’t scream like that, you almost gave me a heart attack! You’re grounded for a week!” “Bu-“ “No buts, go to your room, now!” “Yes mom,” Alice says, defeated, she goes to her room and walks to the door, or rather, into the door. The door didn’t open for her... “Mom, the automatic door is broken for my room!” She calls down.... “What automatic door?” Her mom asks....... Sorry for grammar and spelling mistakes I’m on mobile....
[WP] "The ritual was a success, but in the process all the cultists died. After thousands of years, I still have no idea why they made me immortal."	"Hey, Kat, tell me your story again." Kat rolled her eyes. She used to love the attention, but it grew old four hundred years ago. "Charles, I don't know what more there is to tell you. I was born on the streets of Egypt to a pure white cat. I began to hunt rodents around the palace, and when people began to die from the presence of rats, I became a palace guard. Next thing I know, they're feeding me better food and treating me like royalty. Pretty soon after, I was brought to a chamber, and these guys started chanting around me." "Yeah, yeah, but you're immortal?" "I was born in Egypt nearly five thousand years ago." "And you've got no clue why they made you immortal?" Charles chuckled. "None whatsoever," she said, bemused at his laughter. "Have you ever considered that it's because you're a talking kitty?"	You’ve watched society grow, and looked on with excitement as humans – you’ve stopped thinking of yourself as one of them – began to research their past. They’ll search for old cultures, old societies and religions, and they just might find what you’re looking for. Of course, it might have been too long. The odds of finding even a scrap that references a book that talks about an old story based on the events is astronomical… But you can’t think of that. The idea that there’s no knowledge? That you’ll never answer the question? It’s too much to bear. Even thinking about acknowledging the question is treading a thin line of sanity, and your sanity has been wearing thin for years. Ten thousand years is a long time. It’s embarrassing to admit that it took about five years to realise you’d stopped ageing. You thought you were just youthful looking, but when your new friends started to ask questions… Perpetually a young adult. It could have been worse. Imagine being an eternal teenager, unable to even drown your sorrows in alcohol. To start with you thought it would simply be appearances. Maybe you’d still die of old age, you’d just look good. You considered that idea until you were about one hundred and ten. By then your friends had died, as had the next lot. And their children. After that the truth sank in. Immortality. Were you a god? Was that what they were trying to do? Create a god? Maybe, but you’re still… You still feel pain. You get ill, even. Not often, but you get illnesses. Even deadly ones, ones that should kill you. The 14th century was hell. You can still imagine the feeling of the lumps under your skin. The agonising pain. Your immortality doesn’t even protect you. You feel all of the horrible pain of dying, but without the release of death. Eventually it goes away. Or you get used to it. One thing you don’t get used to. The one thing everyone seems to know would be painful about immortality. Seeing the people you know grow old and die. Everyone thinks about it. “Immortality isn’t a gift, it’s a curse,” they say, thinking themselves wise. They have no idea how right they are. You assumed that the horror would be remembering them, long after their children’s children’s bones had turned to ash and the names of their kings were forgotten. You assumed that would be what hurt the most. It wasn’t. You made promise after promise to yourself, swore on blood and bone, earth and stone, the sun and moon. And still… you forgot. Ten thousand years, hundreds of lifetimes. Hundreds of thousands of friends, and lovers. You can’t remember their names. Sometimes you can't even remember their faces. But sometimes someone will say something, and you’ll remember someone else saying it, laying under the stars with you, firelight in their eyes. What was their name? Sometimes you see someone out of the corner of your eye, you recognise them! But when you turn your head, they’re gone. Dust in the wind. Eventually you stopped befriending people. Stay distant. Focus on the search. The search. Ten thousand years of reading esoteric texts, piecing together scraps of parchment that tell tales of cultures you lived. Searching for the answer to the one question that can be answered by no one who’s been alive in the past ten millennia. Why. Why did they do it? Why did they pick you? All of the cultists are dead. You don’t know how. To be perfectly honest, you don’t remember much from that night. Or that year. That century, actually. Your life before is all forgotten. Really, you remember in detail the events of the past few decades, vaguely, the major events of the past few centuries, more vague still the defining moments of the past millennia. After that it becomes impossible to recall memories. You write down your most important discoveries in a language no one has written in seven thousand years, using an alphabet that was dead long before the Egyptians started scrawling pictures. You’ve managed to remember the language, at least. Using it every day helps you remember. You should use one of the more modern languages – maybe ancient Greek? – but you can’t take the risk. If someone managed to translate it, it would raise too many questions. Anonymity is virtually impossible, nowadays. You miss the days when cameras were on tripods, and you could avoid them. Even more, you miss when people did painting. You always loved painting. Plus, it easy to avoid painters. Cameras? Not so much. CCTV makes everything harder. You end up dressing in different styles of clothing almost every day. You dye your hair regularly, you have different coloured contact lenses. You consider getting cosmetic surgery to change your face structure. Disguise in the modern world. You remember when the biggest threat to your anonymity was fingerprints. You quickly started carry a pumice stone in your pocket to rub down your fingerprints, and you still do it to this day, more out of habit than anything else, since you know DNA would still link to you. Whatever your DNA would look like. You can’t really be human. Not after this long. The people that surround you… they’re so far removed from what you knew. What you forgot. Immortality is a nightmare. One long, eternal nightmare, from which you’ll never wake up.
[WP] Scientists invent a material that is completely impervious to physical damage. It is so cheap that the average consumer can afford a full suit made from it. War breaks out and after a week of fighting the first person has yet to be harmed. The UN convenes a meeting to figure out what to do next	Herculeum proved to be a particular dilemma for the world. On one hand, it was cheap, light-weight, and somehow completely impervious to physical damage. Naturally, it was applied to warfare almost immediately. The good news was nuclear weapons haven't been detonated yet, we aren't complete idiots, I suppose, but conventional warfare was useless. Bullets bounced harmlessly off of Herculeum suits, explosions were about as useful as holiday sparklers, and no chemical could eat though the metal. For months the UN council squabbled, but no solution could be found. Back to the status quo. &#x200B; Unconventional warfare it is, then. Really, though, it was quite an elegant solution. Every night, after another day of useless fighting over command points and high-profile targets, the boys go back their barracks to drink and eat and ready themselves for another day of playing dress up. Showering is the high point of their day. The one thing scientists couldn't figure out is how to make the armor breathable without sacrificing protection. A necessary compromise. So after a hard day of sweating in nasty crapstain terrain, the soldiers hang up their armor in the vault, lather themselves in soap, and hit the sack. They snore, the commanders squabble and break out the hidden stockpiles of whiskey and scotch, while the night watchemen smoke and laugh about that one time. All the while, I come in, like the Sandman, giving blissful dreams to the boys in their beds. Dreams they will never wake from as I push my blade against their fragile, unarmored necks.	When the first nukes went off, it was a little bit anti-climactic. Like, don’t get me wrong, the city was just gone. But as the city collapsed, everyone just kinda bounced around in their S.U.I.T. I was in the office at the time, and the building was annihilated our from under us. Amidst the conflagration, our government-issued S.U.I.Ts instantly deployed, and everyone from the eighth floor just sorta, bounced. Booiiingggg, and a roll onto the melting asphalt. People from higher floors bounced around like pinballs as they collided with each other, is, and falling debris. I heard that the record for someone on the 50th floor downtown was 87 bounces. Anyways, we were all just sort of looking at each other in the streets like “Did that really just happen?” Occasionally a building would fall on someone and they’d slip out from under it with the speed of a cannonball. We’d all known theoretically what the government wanted when they forced us all to wear these things. Supposedly they were from “a higher plane” or something stupid like that. The same scenes repeated themselves around the world, I’m told. Supposedly our government wanted to make tanks and planes and ships with their own S.U.I.Ts, which violates an arms treaty. Where am I writing this from? I’m in a refugee camp, huddled around the camp’s single remaining TV. The S.U.I.Ts even created energy for us so that we didn’t need to eat or drink; the result was millions of people living in wastelands, absolutely bored out of their minds. On the screen was a gathering at a United Nations building which they had managed to fit a S.U.I.T onto. A bunch of sheepish world leaders hid in their protective armor, realizing that the only casualties had been trillions of dollars worth of buildings. “The era of war is over! It’s time to face reality! We need a new forum for addressing the dispute between nations. A bloody rock-paper-scissors tournament would have been more conclusive than this!” A prime minister delivers and impassioned speech, despite having been part of the coalition that started the war. Thousands of refugees boo at the uncaring television screen. “You had your chance!” Some of the world leaders actually start muttering about setting up a rock-paper scissors tournament when our president stands up decisively. He pulls out a gun, which is met with derisive sneers by the other world leaders. Ignoring their sarcastic comments he says: “S.U.I.T, meet T.I.E.” A bullet spews out of the muzzle with a loud pop, and pierced through prime ministers suit in a colorful explosion. We sit in horror as the broadcast is cut short, presenting us with a blank screen. We start to realize that the true war has only just begun.
[WP] all of a sudden teens from all over the world become their OC with all of their abilities, equipment, and appearances, but most importantly their tragic backstories as well	The sudden feeling of every nerve in my body crying out in pain woke me up from my sleep. I noted that the teacher had stopped talking. Slowly and painfully I raised my hand, "y-yo, teach, I'm in a load of pain right now," my voice was muffled by the desk. The teacher made nought a sound. I slowly lifted my head (the pain had started to subside), and saw that she just stood there, her mouth agape and eyes as wide as dinner plates. I followed her gaze. Every student in class had...changed? Some had scales and wings, some were anthropomorphic animals (fucking furries), other looked edgier than a knife. "Can someone explain to me why everyone is in costume, it sure as hell ain't halloween," said a voice...no, no, that was me...my voice was strangely deep. After a moment, all the girls squealed with delight and one exclaimed, "I'm my OC Sarah!" Oh fuck. I glanced down at my hands. Cuts lined the rough, dirty fingers. The tip of my left pinky was missing. Looking at my arms just brought more dismay. The olive sleeves of a fatigue jacket was rolled up to my elbow to reveal dirt and grime under a mat of hair. I now realized I felt the familiar yet strange weight of an M1 helmet upon my head. I slowly reached up to my face to feel the long, unshaven beard that now was there. It simply wouldn't do. Using my father's trench knife, I roughly shaved it. As I unslung my Garand, I looked around and realized something. I had no idea where the fuck I was.	At first, everyone was laughing at each other. Of course everyone thought everyone else looked stupid. A few kids had rainbow skin, wings, or just plain being a different species. Some kids looked normal, but of course everyone was far from normal now. I stared at my hands. They looked normal as far as I was concerned. But then a sudden thought took my head. Which OC was I? I took a sudden breath and looked up to the teacher. The classroom was turning to chaos as students were trying out new powers and abilities. The panicked look on the teacher’s face was enough. Of course, I knew I couldn’t just help her with the class. They weren’t going to be calming down anytime soon. Some kids were crying hysterically, so I thought I should start there. And now I knew who I was.
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not.	I've grown very cold recently. My entire life has no meaning if I don't do this. And with all the new technology out there, and.... with what I've discovered, it would be pretty simple to actually be a super villain... But morality stops me. I'm a scientist not a monster. &#x200B; But.. wouldn't I be the monster if I let lower beings destroy this planet? Wouldn't I be the monster if I allowed them all to act like they're superior? All our warnings, no one heeds. All of our technological advances, they turn into weapons. &#x200B; It's no different than if lions were to grow brains. Monkeys. All of them. Not just the dumb ones who use our technology with money they steal from the people, I'm talking about the people who have an education. The ones who have the true power yet they sit there and take this bullshit from men with pointy sticks and coins of gold. Scientific prostitutes, that's what they all are. &#x200B; No, lap dogs. &#x200B; Something must be done about this. And if I don't do it, no one will. Millions of years of evolution had to happen for me to be born. It's not like I want to do it. I have to. My neurology has grown in ways no one's ever dreamed of. With all my enhancement, I'm not technically even human anymore anyway. So it wouldn't be killing, it'd be exterminating. Getting rid of some pests so my underlings could grow. So that this world becomes more like what I desire it to be. What I feel it should be. &#x200B; What it could...be. But where do I start? I'm just a scientist. What could I really do? Without money? Without "real" money, how can I even begin? If somehow I could win the lottery. It's based on the decay of the americium atom. I could predict that, easily. Quantum Physics... pshh... they really think it's something else. It's so simple. Yes, I could actually do this. So then what, 250+ million isn't enough. What if I write an algorithm to predict the stock market? Invest that 250 million to 250 billion overnight. But still 250 billion isn't enough and money alone won't get this job done and even though I could crack bank security, I will never steal from the people.. I'd need to..... yes that's it. I could cure all diseases. &#x200B; They won't ever see it coming. The FDA would have a field day. All hospitals shut down in an instant because no one walks in. Okay, so I'll use the money to distribute the vaccines amongst the people. &#x200B; They can't get drugs off the street no matter what they do, if I developed the cure for all diseases and made it freely available, that would get passed around so fast, they wouldn't know what hit em. That'll get me the army I need. But they'll be the front army. The pretend army. They won't be afraid of them. &#x200B; That's when they'll go full out, and that's when they stop pretending like democracy is a "thing". I know full well what "really" goes on behind the scenes. Voting? Yeah ahuh. There's only one actual government. And that's when they'll initiate their real plan. The second they attack first, that's when I destroy them. &#x200B; What, you think I'd write it all down in my journal? Like I'll start this huge war and then at the end of the book I'll just give you my secret weapon? No, this is just for you to be terrified. Because I know you'll find this. After I initiate my plan, no doubt you'll search my house. No doubt you'll find this journal, and no doubt by the time you do it'll be too late. &#x200B; If you're reading this, I've already won. No.... We've already won. &#x200B; Love wins.	It was like a fortress floating towards the center of the megacity known as New Corpus Christi, a cloud obscuring the bottom part of it. It was like an ancient, floating castle made of modern metal. A tall tower stood in the center. Just above it, dark clouds were forming, creeping out from the center like oil on water, unnaturally taking over the skyline. The dark tendrils of cloud made their way past the majestic Harbor Bridge, where one lone figure bore witness. His name was Primus, the first hero of New Corpus. He was everything the people wanted him to be: Handsome, super strong, the embodiment of the Alpha Male. His outfit was skintight, dark green with a blue belt and boots, both trimmed in silver. With one mighty leap, he was streaking towards the floating castle. He made a slight crater when he landed, as much to make an entrance as to test the integrity of the castle. It held under his weight, surprisingly. Primus could make himself as dense as a small moon when needs be, and the castle didn't budge under the added weight. "Come out!" Primus challenged, "Unless you want your little floating tree house to get all smashed up!" The voice that answered him was just barely more than a whisper, dripping with guile and trickery. "Very persuasive as always, Primus." The man that appeared near the top of the parapet was about as thin and sharp as a rapier in a lab coat, with goggles over his eyes and a jetpack on his back. Primus scoffed. "Veritas Rex. I should have known you and your tricky gadgets were involved. I didn't know you had it in you to build...whatever this is. Just land this thing before I land it for you." Veritas Rex grinned pleasantly at his old foe. "Such a charmer, and yet...I've no intention of capitulating to you. Not with what's at stake." Primus cracked his knuckles. "The hard way, then." He flew right towards the scientist, intent on wiping the smug grin off the thin man's face. Instead, something struck him in midair, hard enough to send him crashing off the wall and into the courtyard. Primus picked himself up; he'd had much worse than that. When he looked up, though, his nemesis was not alone. Hovering on a block of ice was a werewolf with a snowy white pelt, with ice on the tip of his fur. Veritas Rex smiled. "I'm sure you know the White Wolf of Skellon, the continent under the Arctic. Leader of the Adaman Wolves, and a talented mage besides." "I didn't know you were in the market with underlings," Primus chuckled, and cracked his knuckles again. "Still, if it's a whuppin' you're a-wantin'..." Primus surged into the air so fast a corona of fire erupted from his hands. In the blink of an eye he was on the White Wolf- his keen ears picking up the telltale sound of a trap being sprung. Primus turned towards it, seeing the giant hammer arcing towards him, sprung from a mechanical arm on Veritas Rex's utility belt. Almost in slow-motion, Primus brought his arms up to snatch the thing out of the air, and then pummel the scientist with it. In the hero's mind, he had already disarmed him and was onto the next step- and then felt ice-cold claws dig through his costume and into his ribs. His brain acted reflexively, his body twisting towards the massive werewolf, ready to cripple the beastman's face for good-- The hammer struck home. It knocked Primus on his butt on the floating platform, leaving his brain spinning as the White Wolf snatched up the burly man. "People like you," growled the beastman, "They're poison the oceans with oil. They drain the land dry of all its life. Still you wonder if the doom you people have brought upon us can be averted!" Primus cringed at the rage of his captor, and wondered why he couldn't shake free of his grasp. Veritas Rex grinned. "Adaman bracers, Primus. They cancel the alien magic that powers you. You've got options, though. Use your magic word and slip through the White Wolf's grasp, or simply let him tear you to pieces- though I assure you I wouldn't take pleasure in it. No matter what you think...this isn't about you." Face to face with the monster, the hero gritted his teeth, hating to be in a no-win situation. "Primus," he growled. In a flash of light, Primus was replaced with an eighty-year old man dressed as a banker. The White Wolf released him, letting him fall on the floating, icy platform. All he could do was watch as the clouds gathered, while in secret he sought to gather his strength once again. "It's not about you," Veritas Rex continued conversationally. "It's about all of us. The people you take money from are systematically destroying the planet. This weather machine is merely the first step to setting things right." Primus- or rather, Cornelius Brewster- shook his head. "Your evil plan will never work, Veritas. You're not a god." "No. No trickery, Old Man. Not this time. The temperature here has been steadily rising about one degree every year or so. Today's high was a hundred-and teeth degrees. Before the drilling and the deep land excavations started in the 80s, it was barely ninety degrees. Well, you know what I predict in today's forecast? Rain...Old Man." With a snap of Veritas' fingers, the clouds let out a sharp clap of thunder, and began to pour down rain for dozens of miles in every direction. Crops that had not seen water in nearly six months began to climb out of hibernation. The scorching air cooled. The White Wolf dug the metal on his claws in lightly into Cornelius' shoulder, but felt satisfied. "The weather machine works, Veritas. Your schematics were spot on." Veritas Rex grinned almost charmingly. "My machines are always perfect, Wolf, as you'll come to know. This alliance has been successful and yet this is only one city. Once we convince the other to join our League, we'll have the money and power to build a satellite of such power that we can save this planet from these...heathens." Veritas leaned into where Cornelius was kneeling, grimacing defiantly, struggling to regain his powers. "Now then," Veritas said to erstwhile hero, "Whatever will we do with you?" *** (Sorry for the long post!)
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not.	OOC: I'm late to the party and as such nobody is going to read this but it's a fun one so I'm going to write anyway, upvotes be damned. "At 10am today, the Evil Supervillainess, 'Mistress Organic' dumped tonnes of graphite to the White House and Senate bathrooms via underground microbores. Thick layers of black dust now cover the bathroom surfaces. So far authorities have both failed to apprehend Miss Organic and plug the leak. Emergency portable toilets have been issued. When asked about her motives Miss Organic had this to say:" The screen showed the evil villainess in a carbon black victorian dress cackling,"You cannot stop me! My microbots will keep digging new holes and keep the carbon coming. And what's more I have a near INFINITE SUPPLY of it! That soot that is filling your toilet bowl, I get it FROM THE AIR! MUAWHAHAHAHAHA!" "Meanwhile the notorious Professor O'Neill has reportedly just finished his orbital death laser. O'Neill is currently negotiating with the UN:" The screen showed a split screen of the UN General Assembly and a white-coated professor in what looked like a space station. "FOR THE LAST TIME, IT'S NOT AN ORBITAL LASER! It's a LANGRAGIAN MASER! Lagrangian, because it sits at the Sun-Earth lagrange point, and maser because it converts Petawatts of solar radiation into polarized microwave radiation into a single focused beam!" "So this microwave laser-" "MASER!" "Yes Professor, MASER, you plan on using it to boil humanity alive unless we meet your demands, correct?" Asked the Secretary-General. "NO, NO, NO. I'm going to shine it on rectennas on earth to provide you with free energy!" "What? Why would you do that? And why would we accept? We already have perfectly working power plants." Suddenly the UN went pitch black, as the chamber filled with black pitch. Out of the oozing pitch rose Mistress Organic in a now pitch-black victorian dress. "NOT ANYMORE! The entirety of the world's coal-fired power plants only have 15 minutes remaining of coal left to power your pitiful society! You see, I STOLE, your... COAL."	"professor you can't, this is madness!" "Madness? Madness Vanessa? I'll tell you what is madness. For the last 60 years our world has fallen apart while in lock step the hoard follow fools. But no more, no more Vanessa." "Professor adamovich please." "I am no longer professor adamovich, I am pestilence, the horseman" the micro biologist donned a red cape decorated in models of the human circulatory system. "Either you join me Vanessa or you too shall fall under my trampling hooves." His assistant hesitated "There's still time we could-" "There was time 15 years ago! We are now on our last string, the masses chose their path, and now we choose ours." In her mind she knew he was right, but in her heart she knew he was wrong. But the time for hearts and minds had long since passed and she knew what had to be done, to save everyone. ______________________________________________________ A man in a trimmed suit sat on the couch of the oval office. He sat drinking a small cup of Americano. The president came in not long after. "Hello mr.president" he offered his hand. "Dr. Smith, I hope you know that this meeting is eating into very important time" "Oh worry not mr.president I assure you this meeting will not take but a moment of the Americans people time." He sat back down and continued to sip his coffee. "You know mr.president the Americano was invented during a war. It truly is inspiring how creative humans can be during a war. More broadly though I suppouse it is more how creative humans can be when their lives are on the line" "Dr. Smith does this have anything of use to me" "No actually" "Than I kindly ask you leave this office" the political scientist kicked his legs onto the table. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Lelalilou" at the trigger word the president's security detail pointed their guns at the head of state. "On your knees" said the senior guard in a cold monotone. "What is this, a coup?" The president asked as he got onto to his knees. "No, this is a war. Or more specifically speaking" Dr. Smith pulled a gun out of his pants. "I am war." He pulled the trigger and the president's brain splattered across the floor. "What is the state of the military takeover and the takeover of the bank?" War asked. "The major asset's including nuclear codes, 1 million soldiers and the mint have been seized, sir" "Good, now that we have all our cards in hand it is time for us to make our first move"war strolled over to the desk if the president "I tap the CIA to hack everysingle nuclear site in russia.
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not.	OOC: I'm late to the party and as such nobody is going to read this but it's a fun one so I'm going to write anyway, upvotes be damned. "At 10am today, the Evil Supervillainess, 'Mistress Organic' dumped tonnes of graphite to the White House and Senate bathrooms via underground microbores. Thick layers of black dust now cover the bathroom surfaces. So far authorities have both failed to apprehend Miss Organic and plug the leak. Emergency portable toilets have been issued. When asked about her motives Miss Organic had this to say:" The screen showed the evil villainess in a carbon black victorian dress cackling,"You cannot stop me! My microbots will keep digging new holes and keep the carbon coming. And what's more I have a near INFINITE SUPPLY of it! That soot that is filling your toilet bowl, I get it FROM THE AIR! MUAWHAHAHAHAHA!" "Meanwhile the notorious Professor O'Neill has reportedly just finished his orbital death laser. O'Neill is currently negotiating with the UN:" The screen showed a split screen of the UN General Assembly and a white-coated professor in what looked like a space station. "FOR THE LAST TIME, IT'S NOT AN ORBITAL LASER! It's a LANGRAGIAN MASER! Lagrangian, because it sits at the Sun-Earth lagrange point, and maser because it converts Petawatts of solar radiation into polarized microwave radiation into a single focused beam!" "So this microwave laser-" "MASER!" "Yes Professor, MASER, you plan on using it to boil humanity alive unless we meet your demands, correct?" Asked the Secretary-General. "NO, NO, NO. I'm going to shine it on rectennas on earth to provide you with free energy!" "What? Why would you do that? And why would we accept? We already have perfectly working power plants." Suddenly the UN went pitch black, as the chamber filled with black pitch. Out of the oozing pitch rose Mistress Organic in a now pitch-black victorian dress. "NOT ANYMORE! The entirety of the world's coal-fired power plants only have 15 minutes remaining of coal left to power your pitiful society! You see, I STOLE, your... COAL."	It started as a joke from Jim the undergrad during lab meeting. Then, one of the post-docs joked about it with another post-doc from the neuro lab next door. Then, the grad students of the neuro lab brought it up with the all the other grad students in the department at a seminar, and suddenly Dr. Mob found himself being approached by other PIs. &#x200B; "We heard you wanted to do something about it," they said. Dr. Mob, being new to the department and having only recently acquired his second grant, felt the need to make a name for himself. &#x200B; And that's how Dr. Mob found himself standing at a makeshift podium in the basement of an apothecary, getting ready to hypothesize how to fix the world - whether anyone liked it or not. &#x200B; They had a surprisingly good turn out - apparently word had spread at a few different conferences, and the room was now packed with Birkenstocks, science puns and extremely specific jargon about drosophila. There was a good representation from labs across all areas of the country, too. It would have made Dr. Mob excited, if only for the constant thought of the possibility of them all being arrested for biochemical warfare. In that scenario, there would be a lot of missed experiment time points, grad student mess ups and wasted grant money - simply unacceptable. &#x200B; "Can I get everyone's attention?" Dr. Mob yelled out into the round once 8:00pm rolled around. It hadn't really been necessary, though - everyone had quieted down at 7:59 and now had their notepads at the ready. &#x200B; "We are gathered here today for one reason - to change the world." Dr. Mob intoned, gesturing at the tv screen stationed on the wall behind him. With a few flicks of his clicker, a Prezi popped up. "I hate PowerPoints." Dr. Mob explained. Several people clapped, and everyone chuckled. &#x200B; "So, as I'm sure you're all aware, the Earth is dying." Dr. Mob flipped through Prezi screens showing the usual pictures of ice caps melting and people starving. "And along with the Earth, us. Now, every single administration on Earth has proved themselves either ineffective or unable to cooperate with our warnings. It's up to us to convince them - with science." Dr. Mob came to a blank screen. The crowd was silent. &#x200B; "Here, we reach our hypothesis: IF we scare the masses into giving in to our demands, THEN we can finally instate proper climate change laws." IF and THEN were bolded, as well as capitalized, to show emphasis. "However, this is where I need you assistance - our methods section is currently inexistent. Aside from the transgenic modification of newborn calves to make them glow green and blaming it on pesticides, we need more safe scares." &#x200B; Dr. Mob looked away from the screen to face the crowd once more. Every single hand was in the air.

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