《DTC's short story and prologue compendium》


 Unnamed Story - A Fateful Night

    "Stupid mom, stupid dad," Nolan muttered to himself, "why do they always have to fight?" He sighed and looked around. The creaking of the trees in the wind sent shivers down his spine. His plan had been to make his own home in the woods. He¡¯d known it would be lonely but he was used to lonely, being the only kid in the village and all. This however, he was unprepared for. The young elf took a few deep breaths, steeling his resolve. He would make his home in the woods, he didn¡¯t need anyone to care for him. He shook his head, with newly gathered determination he walked on towards the nearby clearing. If anywhere, that was a good place to start.


    He walked the familiar forest paths, the old trees familiar yet unwelcoming to him, the cool night air changing the feel of the forest radically. The old split trunk tree! He smiled despite the scary night sounds. Almost there then, just¡­ through¡­ these¡­ bushes! There! With a rip in his pants he tore free from the bramble. He proudly harrumphed to himself! He knew he could do it! It took him a moment to process what he saw. When he did, he screamed, pushing himself backwards into the bramble bush despite the thorns. The dragon however, did nothing but keep a curious eye on him.


    It took an embarrassingly long time, during all of which Nolan simply curled up inside the brambles, to realise the dragon wasn¡¯t doing anything. Slowly, the young boy crawled forwards, back out of the brambles. Man¡­ Mom was going to be livid about the clothes¡­ He froze when he saw the dragon shift, their head turning to face him. Their slitted eyes pressing down on him with the weight only a being easily thrice his height could. A pained whine almost inaudibly left its mouth. Nolan blinked in surprise, immediately re-examining the creature. That was a lot of blood, he wasn¡¯t sure his entire body had that much, wow. Was¡­ was the wing supposed to bend that way?


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    He looked the beast in the eye, fearfully swallowing his spit. What he saw within was no anger, only pain, sadness and regret. He felt a pang of empathy for the dying creature. Slowly walking closer, afraid of how they might react. But it¡¯s initially piercing green eyes had unfocused to stare into the afterlife, its breathing slower every time. The boy put his hand sympathetically on its wing, head dipped low in respect to the all but fallen creature of legend.


    A snort, Nolan¡¯s eyes shot up and he stumbled back. The dragon¡¯s eyes unclouded, a moment of lucidity. It gazed at the elven youth with an evaluating gaze, he felt his heart skip a beat. Hair¡¯s breadth from death or not, he had little doubt they could kill him with ease. But it didn¡¯t. Instead he saw it slowly, painfully slowly lift its broken wing with a series of pained whimpers. ¡°stop! Don¡¯t hurt yourself! Please!¡± Nolan yelled, but it didn¡¯t. Then he saw why, his breath caught in his throat. Cradled protectively in its claws sat a large spherical object, larger than his head with ease. The dragon pressed its snout against the egg for a second, giving it a loving lick. Then rolled it forwards.


    "Dal¡¯quem."


    "Dalquem?" He repeated, disbelief clouding his mind. The dragon dipped its head, eyes filled with a silent request. Nolan gulped, he wasn¡¯t sure he wasn¡¯t dreaming, but he understood. Feet heavy he stepped forwards. Heaving to lift the egg from the ground. He could feel a calm acceptance within the dragon. Its eyes increasingly unfocused with every breath, each one slower and shallower than the last. Nolan kept it company throughout until he was certain the next breath wasn¡¯t coming. He snapped out of the trance like state, looking upon the dead parent one last time.


    ¡°Rest easy,¡± he mumbled under his breath. The weight of a life heavy in his hands.

 Oneshot - Prophecys End.

    Demon Queen Vanessa was quite vexed. For a thousand years she had ruled the realm fair and just. All the gods were dead, their remains zealously guarded and sought by her most loyal agents. But damn the divine, that prophecy of that golden bitch! What kind of madman uses prophecies anyways!?! Those fate spirits are so single-mindedly stubborn that they''ll burn down the fucking multiverse to so much have a distant shot at completing their goal! And as long as anyone knew of their existence they would live and sadly this one was common knowledge. They didn''t have the time or resources to suppress it to THAT level, thanks internet.


    How many lives had that petty bitch''s Prophecy already claimed? She sighed, gods. Always the fucking gods. Nobody should have that much power, mad the whole lot of em. She turned to her personal attendant, Lilly, a fellow God Cursed. The result of an ancestor refusing to fuck a misogynistic pig with more power than sense. The succubus nodded, indicating it was time. She sighed, a complex mix of emotions swirling inside her as she looked at the wedding gown.


    You see, Prophecies are kin to contract and wish magic in a way. You brought forth a word and imbued it with enough power to change reality itself. But a word is a word and words have many meanings. When we''d first spotted the loophole we''d thought a one night stand would be enough. She''d hated it, but was willing to swallow her pride and dignity to finish the Prophecy. That man died when the failure became apparent. But the Prophecy had reacted, it had acknowledged the path. So they tried again and again and again. They eventually reached a conclusion. It had to be a form of long-standing power over the other and it had to be real. No pretenses or figurehead. It had to be real, true power over her, specifically.


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    Other paths were considered and evaluated, but no other path was acceptable. The hardest part had been accepting her feelings, to let the Prophecy push on her soul like it was a chew toy. It''s pressure was nigh unbearable these final steps. She would have to devote her everything to breaking it''s grasp now, and all it''d achieve was starting from zero. No, the wedding had to proceed.


    At that altar she saw his smile, she knew he loved her too, she was far too magically potent to be fooled by his mediocre self. As the vows were exchanged she was frightened, she took her time, knowing a lie or hasty answer would ruin all the work. He knew who she was, he was on board with the plan. He was perfect. How could she say no? As they kissed she felt the Prophecy''s power fade as it completed, the spirit peacefully dissipating into oblivion. Content with the completion of its mission.


    She cried into his embrace, a thousand years of struggle and hardship, fighting the inexorable Prophecy and bending it to her will. All the pain and suffering her people had suffered at the hands of various heroes. Gone forever.


    For a Prophecy of her death, it sure was a good matchmaker.

 Oneshot - Old gods rest

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    Worship is... Such a foolish notion. A god I am, but what use does a man have for an ant? What use does a god have for praise? We who are beyond reproach. No, there is very little a common man could do that holds value to any of us. Nothing, really. Not until they grew to be of significant power...


    But many of us hold attachments to the world we rose up from. Some do it for the praise, they rarely last long. Some simply want the normality of living amongst mortals. Most however? Most believe they can make the world a better place.


    But the world is a complex thing, it''s peoples and nature an interwoven and complex web of politics. The thing about immortality is that it''s normal life, just more of it. And life is hard, life is complicated, life is exhausting. Few of us hold on to the drive to micromanage the world for long. So too, did I grow tired of wrestling the people of the realm into being kind to each other. I was worshiped for centuries, even after I quit. But in time, my name faded from the world. Referenced only by historians.


    How surprised I was, then. That a little child prayed at my first, and last, altar. The only one I''d left intact. A memento. She made no offering, simple prayers alone were given. All she could afford to, given how thin she was. I sighed, I had no desire to meddle with the world at large. But a single child? I could help a single starving child. So I gave her a blessing, a blessing of fortune. So the odds may be in her favor.


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    I thought that would be the end of that. But it was only a few days later that she returned. A small offering, this time. A small piece of bread. Stolen by a rat not 15 minutes after. I listened to her prayers. But this time I watched her return to the orphanage, the strict, uncaring nuns who played caretaker but didn''t even stop the older children stealing her food when they were in the same rooms. She was weak, powerless. Without future, even with my blessing. But her spirit was strong, cowed, but full of determination. All she needed... Was a chance.


    So I found her one, a merchant woman, one who wished for child yet could not bear one no matter how she and her husband tried, found her gaze drawn to the child. That was all I did, everything after after was her own actions. At first a helper, then apprentice. But when the adoption came, it was to nobody''s surprise.


    I watched her grow, from child to teen, to woman. Though she told her parents of me, they already had a god in their hearts. With no room for another. But she prayed to me still, and I watched over her. I arranged for her stall to end up next to that of a kindhearted young man. At first they quibbled as rivals, but it soon turned to banter between friends without their notice. In time, even that was not adequate to describe their relationship. I gave them privacy when it was warranted. The kids were cute though.


    As she lay on her deathbed, time haven taken it''s toll, surrounded by family they prayed together to me. As the light faded from her eyes I extended my hand, asking whether she would like to watch with me.


    I have long grown tired of the politics and control needed to truly make the world a better place. But these little things? A little drop in the bucket? That I can always do. Especially when supported by those who joined me in this vigil. My family of angels.

 Oneshot - Your Wish

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    I gazed upon the grand gates. Each and every one of them towering far above me. Hordes of people streaming through the arches constantly like a busy airport. The choice was difficult. Each and every one of them offering


    It was paralyzing. The offers so tempting, but as I stared, a thought crept up to me. Where''s Pride? Shaken out of my stupor, my head whirled around scanning the massive lobby. There, forgotten in the corner with a flaking billboard stood a crooked door that was all but indistinguishable from the walls around it with faint fading letters printed upon it. "PRIDE."


    Really? Pride? Pride of all gates stands worn and forgotten when all others get to be so grand? That seemed so... Out of character. Intrigued, I made my way through the forgotten, smallest gate. Finding myself standing in a simple and functional, but eye pleasing lobby. A receptionist typing away on his computer behind the desk.


    As I approached, he looked up from his work and smiled. "Welcome to pride, greatest of sins. How can I help you today?" He didn''t hide his expectant smirk, my curiosity must not be a new thing. I decided to indulge him, "I expected Pride to be the grandest, most opulent entrance. Why..." I gestured all around, "just this?"


    He chuckled, "you have greed for that don''t you?" I blinked in surprise. "When people hear Pride, they think pettiness, shallow vanity, spoiled princesses and unreasonable second generations. But that''s not Pride," he gestured at pictures on the wall of the other sins.


    "Pride is not Greed, that simply wants to have everything it can no matter the method," yachts, jewels and riches untold heaped around a man surrounded by supermodels in the picture. A glamorous, if hollow life.


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    "Pride is not Sloth, that simply wants to enjoy the good things," an old father, surrounded by his family, together idling away the time. A wholesome, sweet life with little ambition, little change and little events. Only more of the same.


    "Pride is not Gluttony, that doesn''t understand that happiness is fleeting," a comic of a man going from indulgence to indulgence. Eating at a five star restaurant until he grew sick of the taste. A massage that lasted days, until it caused more stress than it relieved.


    "Pride is not Lust, that lives for the moment," a woman following her whims, adventure to adventure, event to event and moment to moment with little pause. A life of joy, adventure and little consistency. Any doubts or hesitation left behind to find the next rush.


    "Pride is not Wrath, that thinks the feelings of others are key," a sadistic man torturing a hundred people, acting out his worst fantasies. A woman who sought to please, always subservient and afraid to act out of line. A life spent thinking of others, explicitly aiming to please or hurt them, never reflecting upon the self or living for what you want.


    "Pride is not Envy, that wants it all," a woman who, on demand or tantrum received any wish. She had it all, any wish granted within the moment. Yet never was she satisfied, never seeing how hollow her life and petty her character.


    "Pride is confidence. Not the hollow veneer that narcissists put up, but knowing full well deep down to your bones who you are, what you can do and what you''re worth. You will be given nothing, you will have to build your own paradise, build your own dreams and prove your own worth. Every gate is a wish, but Pride is the wish to fulfill your own wish. The wish for self improvement. But to walk that path you first need perspective," he said waving at the wall of sins. "If you have any doubts, go ahead and experience the other gates first, see for yourself what your dream life is like. I''ll be here waiting, ready for when you''re ready to reincarnate."

 Character Snippet - Facing Death

    Estelle frowned, the horde of uncountable undead before her. Their Master, effortlessly slaughtering Her way through the army''s ranks like death incarnate, she snorted at the irony of the thought. Really, the undead were more a distraction, barely contributing anything but confusion. Even though they''d count as a strategic weapon on their own by any normal standard. But She was not a normal Master by any metric. Really, the whole thing was gratuitous. She''d already decapitated the leadership as opening strike and this was just pure indulgence. She sighed, sipping her tea, waiting for Her to be done and come over, it was only a matter of time, really.


    A good twenty minutes or so later, the undead all collapsed as one. Their master had no more use for them. Sure enough, a pillar of abyssal black spawned nearby, Declaring the Frailty of Life and Demanding the Death of all who Witness it. As the deathgate fades, the Lich stands before her. Clad in a black gothic dress, interlaced with dark purple reliefs and traces of silver. One of her better works, Estelle admitted to herself. Raven hair cascaded down to her butt. Fading purple soulflame revealed glassy purple, dead eyes set in a hauntingly beautiful yet ever scowling face of pallid gray, dead flesh. Her undead state somehow only added to her terrifying, haunted grace. Fading spectral dragon scales clad her form, she could faintly see the remnants of what not long ago were spectral horns, tail and wings. Her movements were unnatural, like she was puppeted by an invisible hand with only minimal regard for how living flesh should move. Strutting towards her with an arrogant smirk and absolute confidence. Typical.


    It was an uncanny, nay, downright horrifying sight that Estelle would never truly get used to. Especially because- "Sister," a voice carrying the chill of the grave spoke, echoing whispers of a thousand dead souls accompanied her words. "I have finished them all." the Lich declared imperiously. Estelle took a deep breath, gathering all the courage and especially patience she''d need to stake down Death Herself. With a snap, she closed her fan and without a moment''s hesitation, knocked the Lich''s pride out of Her with a sudden strike on the head with the fan.


    The now hunched corpse''s empty eyes slowly turned towards her, forcing her to suppress a shudder, the Lich''s arrogant smirk nowhere to be seen. She can easily recognise the silent confusion from her sister''s body language, even while undead. Before She can recover Her poise and get angry, Estelle retakes the initiative. "You need to stop killing yourself Every. Single. Time!" She yelled, "just because you can turn yourself undead doesn''t mean you should!" Arienna stared at her silently, still and silent like the dead, "and your wanton slaughter of their army is utterly unwarranted! Do you even fathom the political fallout this will bring!?" Estelle continued her tirade.


    Arienna scoffs, having recovered her arrogant poise and, Estelle knows, desperately pretending she never lost her composure. "An example must be set! Let all know defiance comes with Consequence." No whispers, Estelle noted. Progress! "Oh, they know. EVERYONE KNOWS! You''ve never let anyone forget for even a second!" Estelle countered, from the glint of life in her sister''s eyes she immediately knew she''d mis-stepped. Impressive how expressive she managed to be, even as a corpse. ¡°Yes, their fear is rather quite the point. So that none may dare threaten us,¡± she arrogantly declared.


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    She felt her brow twitch, "And you never considered that perhaps, it''s their fear that drives them to keep trying to kill you?" She bit out. Ari just scoffed, "Death cannot hold me," She dismissed with a casual snort. "Yes, you''ve made quite the point of proving that by now," she admitted bitterly. Arch-necromancer She may be, one never quite gets used to having to resurrect your own sister''s undead corpse. Ari''s immense smugness, somehow, managed to intensify. "But!" Estelle cut off before she could start bragging. "You aren''t the only one affected! They''re targeting me too! How do you plan to come back should they manage to kill me?" She snapped with narrowed eyes. She had the decency to look away in shame at that. "I''d bring you back," she muttered softly, Estelle could see that she was suppressing a pout. "That''s¡­" Estelle broke off the instinctive retort, she really had no good counter argument to that.


    She sighed, resisting the urge to palm her head. This line of debate clearly wasn''t working. Did she really have to resort to That? She hated using The Contingency, but it was the only reliable way of getting through to Ari she had. She always sulked for days afterwards too, though she would never admit it. With no other recourse to the insufferably stubbornly woman in front of her, she admitted defeat and discreetly signaled Layla, her handmaiden, to bring forth The Contingency. Even as the two of them continued their argument.


    Estelle had reached the point of teasing her sister about how she¡¯d accidentally scaroused her now fiancee into sputtering out a marriage proposal at their first meeting when The Contingency arrived. Layla, with professional courtesy and years of experience, ignored the sputtering and embarrassed Lich and put down the plates. Ari¡¯s eyes practically, no, actually lit up with purple light as she saw what Layla brought in. For a moment, Estelle felt a pang of guilt for what she was about to do. But she ruthlessly crushed it, she spoiled Ari way too much as is. The girl was insufferable on a good day.


    Arienna held out her arm to Estelle for resurrection. She ignored it even as she grabbed a pastry and made sure to savor it while she still could, the consequences would soon catch up. Ari shook her arm a bit, trying to grab her attention. Estelle just raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Es! Bring me back," she whined, though she did a good job masking it as a demand. The older of the two just silently took a second. Ari''s scowl notably intensified, "no, you''re not doing this again Es! Don''t you dare!" Cold, dead hands grasped her shoulders, small shocks of necrotic energy painfully coursed through her flesh. With great effort she managed to suppress the instinctual shudder that threatened to shake her poise, though she couldn''t stop the hair on her neck from raising in alarm. Something deep within screamed at her that she was about to die. She ignored it with the help of endless practice, Ari''s tricks had long grown old.


    Instead, she tilted her head in faux-confusion, blinking with exaggerated innocence, "don''t what?" Arienna glared balefully, purple soulfire blazed within her glassy orbs, the mortal dread intensifying with every second, whispers from the beyond demanded she give in. For a moment they continued their standoff, but Estelle was wise to her tricks, not one to enter a staring contest with a literal corpse, she turned her head back to the food on the table. That was enough to spur the Lich into action, with a huff, She crossed her arms, ¡°come on Es! You know I can''t taste as undead!¡± she huffed, Estelle raised her eyebrow, internally pleased she got her sister to drop the domineering attitude. ¡°Perhaps you should¡¯ve considered that before killing yourself,¡± she said with a casual sip of her tea to an ignored storm of complaints and clammy, dead pokes and other annoyances courtesy of her sister.


    Truly, necromancers make terrible siblings.

 Snippet - Fall

    "Hey buddy," I said with a wave. "So, how long have you been here?" No response.


    "Yeah, figured that''d be the case. Definitely feels that long, doesn''t it bud?" No response. I grab my waterskin and take a small sip.


    "It''s really boring here, you know that bud?" No response.


    "Yeah, I know. Just tryna make conversation." No response.


    "Hey, mind if I borrow this?" I ask, grabbing a finger bone from my skeletal friend.


    "Thanks, it''s better than nothing." No response as I mindlessly chew on it.


    "So how''d you end up here bud?" No response.


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    "Hmm. Let me guess¡­ A betrayal by a loved one?" No response.


    "Oooh! A pirate captain!?" No response.


    "Oof, betrayed by your own crew!" I toss the bone. No response.


    "Ah, but the treasure is still buried away huh?" No response.


    "Imagine the lucky bugger who''ll find that." I said with a sigh. No response.


    "Yeah, yeah those fuckers would deserve such a fate. Yeah." No response.


    "Me?" No response.


    "I¡­ It''s not much of a story really, you sure you wanna hear it?" No response.


    "I¡­ yeah, I guess it''s only fair," I sigh. No response.


    "I guess¡­ I was just done." No response.


    "No, I don''t really know what prompted it. I was just done with life and figured this would be a good end." No response.


    "Yeah, I KNOW what the sign said!" I snap back, no response.


    "It''s just¡­" I struggle to find the words. No response.


    "I figured the pit wouldn''t ACTUALLY be bottomless.

 Story Teaser - Last Embers

    "I- What?" I gasped, "What do you mean I''m leaving? Where am I even supposed to go? There is nothing out there but the living dark! What-" Father raised his hand, I shut up. "You are commanded by the Council to join the Expedition as liaison," he stated as if discussing the snow.


    "The¡­ THE Expedition? The one towards The Citadel? THAT, Expedition?" Bile rose up in my throat, I felt numb and cold. Yet all I was met with was a simple nod. I clamped my hands tight enough to draw blood, I felt the tears building in my eyes despite my best efforts. Father said nothing. "How¡­ How could you," my voice was small and weak, but bitterness pushed me on. "You know¡­" I spoke barely audibly, but as I spoke, my voice grew louder as anger replaced shock. "You KNOW, JUST AS WELL AS I DO THAT''S GLORIFIED SUICIDE! HOW COULD YOU-"


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    He held up his hand, I cut off my tirade with trembling hands balled into fists. He spoke, for the first time in my life with emotion, a small trembling quiver in his voice. "I know, son. I know." I saw the regret marring his stoic fa?ade as we lapsed into silence.


    ¡­


    "Dismissed."


    That was the first time he''d ever called me son.