Join Darrion in Episode 1 of his 8-bit Role-Playing adventure as his everyday challenges and anxieties come to life and he is forced to battle against powerful enemies known as the “Mundanities”.
He sighed. Carved the webbing from the door along with the petrified corpse of his eight-legged friend Miles.
Miles was amazing. A solid friend who kept flies out of his basement and away from where he practiced his turntables every Sunday. And in return, he allowed Miles to use the real estate at the top corner of his basement door. To grow his web-condominium. Shelter from the unpredictable autumn elements.
He used the plastic knife to scrape webbing into a paper towel.
His dog licked his hand. Woof.
He softly pinched his dog’s ear. “I’ll miss him too.”
He found nothing about life funny. Or beautiful. Or remotely enjoyable.
He sank lower in his seat.
Well, there was his wife, and his many unpublished writings. That’s Beautiful. Enjoyable.
My writings suck.
“Then you have negative fourteen to the…” His algebra professor droned while slowly fading out of existence.
Can’t be me anymore. Must be better.
He slapped his nose.
It was a nasty habit. An indication that anxiety was about to overtake his already turbulent mind. Like a spider-sense but for obsessive compulsive writers who lack charisma and self-confidence.
He checked the time.
He sank lower.
Read “Scale-Lord’s Victory” here
My hallowed sword. Clear as ice. Invisible to mortal eyes. Her’s was the red dagger. Black edges. Boisterous. Hellish. Magma. My off-hand weapon.
I stalked her.
Her dagger-like nails. She swiftly peeled through my sanctified steel.
I flung Ice at her eye. Cleaved down on her wings with Magma.
Unholy rage. Desperation. Love.
Ice shattered like glass on impact. Magma snapped in threes.
She cackled. “Hopeless boy…”
I scrambled for the shattered weapons.
Useless weapons! Lying old shaman!
Wings sliced over my head. Clipped my knotted mane.
“Enough!” I pleaded.
E’lees… save her.
I retrieved pieces of Magma in stealth.
Enchanted weapons were her last hope to retrieve what’s left . Of her.
She summoned machines. Slicing. Crushing. Machines.
I screamed. “Stop!”
She took flight. Whipped her wings. Summoned gusts of wind which pinned me against a crumbling column.
My despair dissolved to acceptance.
I braced my body for a pain worse than death.
She caressed my cheek. “Oh, Iku…”
Pity in her demonic tone. Pity for me.
I opened my teary eyes.
Wings. Leathery skin. All vanished in favor of her angelic flesh.
“Stop fighting.” She cuffed my cheek.
I looked away.
You wear her flesh. But you are not her.
I unearthed her broken Magma.
“Be with me,” She pleaded.
I drove Magma into my chest.
To be with her. In oblivion.
Her wings sprouted. Form shifted from flesh to scales.
“Iku!” She shrieked and collapsed the temple on top of us.
Reality’s collapsing around us. Just… us.
Volatile, inter-dimensional shifts bubbling throughout our home. We’re existing in the same space, breathing the same air. Or so it seems.
She enters our kitchen. Phases through me.
“Morning,” I say.
Silence. No reaction to me. She sips coffee. No slurps nor satisfied gasps.
Thick layers of brane… brain? Translucent fields inflaming and growing denser. Filtering my greetings. My regrets. My apologies.
I waved. “Hey”.
We are occupying the same time and space. But never quite the same time. And. Or. Space.
Mission critical. Must. Reunite. Our. Realities.
The centennial Monster Mash.
A once a century, secret Congress of the most powerful and influential monsters of all nationalities, species, and realms. A parlay among humanity’s predators. He was tasked with surveilling the meeting by the foolish and misguided Humanic Order. He had greater plans. The Order will thank him whence the smoke clears.
Red Vampire, the host, was in his cross-hairs. Succubus brides trailing behind him, arranging and rearranging furniture. Preparing for their big feast.
“Doesn’t feel right,” Squire whispered. “Ambushing them.”
“I know… Still doesn’t feel right to me.”
They bared the mark. His was the mark of a Knight of the Humanic Order. Far more prestigious than that of Squire. He was born superior. A living weapon. A machine sculpted by the Gods.
“Is a preemptive strike the right move?” Squire asked.
Squires were servants. Living tools and nothing more.
Their existence is a declaration of war.
Squire sighed. “I think we shoul-“
He twisted squires ear until it bled. “Are you Knight or Squire?”
“Sq… Squire, sir.”
“Then be a squ-“
Squire’s pupils turned white.
Phwoosh! Inter-dimensional tears formed near the mansion walkway.
He released Squire. “Clean yourself.”
Squire’s blood could attract Red and his wives.
Dragons, basilisk drawn carriages, private jets, stretch hearses and cloaked helicopters emerged from the inter-dimensional tears. Filth. Creating portals with accuracy. Strong magic.
“Camera,” He commanded.
“Should we contact-“
The Order would stop him. Or try.
Squire handed him the full-spectrum camera. “Red organized all this.”
Monsters swiftly gathered in the mansion dining room to feast on the raw carcasses on display.
Squire’s eyes widened. “Temporal-“
Knight yanked Squire to the ground.
Dragon wings materialized among the stars.
Teleporting dragons. Blind, with other Godlike senses encircled them for several minutes. Vanished as fast as they arrived.
Idiot squire left blood-specks on his shoulder plate. Attracting the beasts.
Must act before squire ruins..
“Amazing,” Squire said.
Knight loaded his cannon.”No more waiting.”
“Claim your weapon,” He commanded. “Time to cleanse this world.”
Explosion will eliminate most. Then he and Squire will head down and finish all who survive the blast.
Squire knelt to reclaim his scythe but pulled back.
He drew a pistol and trained it on Squire. “Claim. Your. Weapon.”
Squire claimed his scythe.
Monster unification is a threat to mankind. Can’t allow it.
“Cleanse the world…” Squire said.
“Okay.” Squire sliced Knight’s neck open with his scythe.
Knight desperately held this throat together with his hand. Collapsed.
Blood gushing. Shadows appearing around him. Reapers? No… worse. Red Vampire and his succubus wives.
“All yours.” Squire handed a succubus bride the bloody scythe.
“I can feel its power,” Red sampled Knight’s blood.
Succubus danced around Squire.
“Stay for dinner?” Vampire sampled Knight’s blood with his fingernail.
“I’d be honored,” Squire answered. “To discuss peace-“
“Yes…Yes… peace.” Red Vampire licked his fang-tips. “Prepare a meal for our human ally.”
“We insist,” Vampire whispered in Squire’s ear.
She stomped on the demon’s chest. Used the leverage to dislodge the divine spear of E’lees from its belly.
The Demon’s breaths were shallow. Its crushed rib cage slowly rising and sinking beneath her heels. Its long, shattered wings flapping wildly as if trying to escape its broken body.
The Demon spat in her face. “Finish me, insect!”
She plunged the consecrated spear through the Demon’s left eye. Twisted. Drilled it into the back of its skull. No regeneration this time.
Swooooosh! Escaped souls fired from the Demon’s socket. Ricocheted through the room like vexed lightning.
She raised the glowing spear to deliver the finishing thrust.
“Prophecy always prevails,” The Demon whispered.
Not this time.
She spent her childhood training to combat her so-called prophecy. Awaiting battle against the fate, clerics and superstitious townspeople claimed was inescapable. One strike to its remaining eye and none of it comes to pass. One more strike and she’s free.
The Demon cackled. “See ya.”
She plunged the spear into the Demon’s remaining eye.
Shrieking souls exploded from its skull. Destroyed her remaining dark magic artifacts and sigils in the room. Shattered the towering stain-glass windows.
She withdrew the spear. Wiped demon’s bile from her eyes. Lowered from its corpse before collapsing to a knee upon landing.
“E’lees,” She praised.
She couldn’t free every abducted soul. The souls used for sustenance and to power the Demon’s machines… Gone forever.
“E’lees, forgive me.”
She trained the spear on the quivering Demon.
Hiss… The Demon’s form disintegrated to ash. The ash quickly dissolved in the breeze.
Its done. The goddess E’lees granted her strength. The will. The arsenal. All she needed to defeat the Demon. To defeat prophecy. To prove mortals weren’t slaves to destiny.
Iku… I’m coming home.
She shuffled to a shattered window to bathe in the the sunlight. To inhale the sweet scent of grass on the breeze. To take in the sound of caroling birds.
Hell’s ice was thawing. Life was returning to the region. She was going home where there were endless hills, waterfalls and flowers.
To see Iku… To disembowl every thing you love.
Murderous thoughts increasing. Defeaning. Consciousness being crushed. Replaced by another.
Kill them all. Destroy everything… you… I care about.
“I defeated you!” She took an attack position. “You’re-”
“Ach!” She rolled up her sleeve.
Black scales formed on her arms and across her collar bone. Organs rapidly shifting. Expanding. Growing.
She’s dying. But she’d never felt stronger. More alive.
“I’m sorry.” She released the spear.
She jerked forward. Landed on all fours.
They tore through her flesh. Her shoulder blades. Her prickly black wings whooshed angrily.
She cried. Tears of pain. Tears of sadness. Tears of laughter.
Prophecy prevailed as it should. She gleefully embraced what she’s meant to become… The Scale Lord. World devourer. Her true self. Fate.
She smirked. “I’m coming for you, Iku.”
She took flight.
He vehemently stared at the screen.
Technopathy failed. Nothing creative or profound had materialized in his thoughts or Word Processor. His muse was an unsurprising no-show. Why waste inspiration on atrocious writers like him? Right?
“What’s up?” She asked.
“Suffering.” He typed a paragraph.
“Food’s getting cold.”
“Cool.” He deleted everything.
“Hurry… Eat.” She rested a full plate between them. “You’re probably hungry.”
“Probably am…” He reached for the plate.
Stomach’s tight. Extremely lethargic.
He hadn’t eaten sinc-
She slapped the biscuit out of his hand. “Food’s on the stove.”
“Seriously?” He asked.
“Grab yourself a plate.”
She perused the menu of the expensive, five pentagram rated restaurant.
A posh, dark ages style torture room decor with stunning views of the unholiest realms.
Perfect for their Ghoul’s night out.
“Let’s see it,” Bestie demands.
She reaches her ring hand across the table.
Bestie closely examines the gem. “Two trapped souls?!”
“I know!” She shrieks.
“And… he loves children,” She adds. “Lightly seasoned… Well done.”
“Ahhh… bestie remembers!”
Fiery portals open above their tables. Flaming tentacles place two cauldrons of Boiling Hot primordial soup before them.
“Roanoake U Coven reunion tomorrow.” Bestie tastes the soup.
“The Black Lipstick slut sorority?”
Bestie squints. “Didn’t you pledge?”
“Yes… Before you sacrificed me to the demon, Bilquis.”
Bestie nods. “You’re welcome.”
“Whatever.” She laughs. “Hows dating life?”
Tentacles deliver blood champagne.
“Screwed one of the four,” Bestie answers.
Bestie smirks. “Famine.”
“Thought you’d prefer War.”
“Wow… You’ve matured.”
“Two hundredth birthday just passed.”
“I guess…” Bestie frowns.
“Your soulless mate exists. I promise.”
“Yeah, sure,” Bestie sighs.
“Explore… Date warlocks.”
“Religious nuts? No thanks.”
“Followers. One track minds.”
“Oooh, Vampires? They’re romantic.”
“Total racists.” Bestie replies. “Briefly dated a succubus.”
“That semester in Purgatory.”
“Wild in bed.” Bestie flashes missing finger. “Too wild.”
“Ghoul, stop! I’m… fine.”
Bestie nods and raises glass. “Tonights about you and your unholy union.”
“I guess,” She raises glass.
They share a toast.