《Sir Skelliton》Confession
Advertisement
Noooooooo! Why does he keep doing that!? Why can’t he stop knocking out everyone he comes across?
Isha would be crying at the moment if it weren’t for the fact she had to focus on everyone said Minion had knocked unconscious. Her father was in the best condition, so all she had to do was put some of his bruises on ice and make sure he wasn’t in an uncomfortable position.
The stranger who had initially helped her was in a precarious situation since while she thankfully survived, her numerous wounds were still on the verge of reopening. Just because the clotting set in didn’t mean she was out of mortal danger yet. Nothing some bandaging and rest could, hopefully, fix.
Her mother... Oh by the God’s why did she let it get this bad!? While her wounds weren’t any worse than the strangers, she had been beaten twice, almost in quick succession. Not to mention the fact her Minion kept dropping her while her wounds had yet to be bandaged, much less healed. If she recovers from this with just minor scars would be a miracle in and of itself.
Jerald was trying to help, but he had the constant urge to stare at Skelliton. Either because of justifiable fear or because he was simply curious seeing a non-hostile Undead, Isha couldn’t tell. It left him less than helpful than he could be, so she had to repeatedly call his name to keep on task.
Speaking of said Minion, he was currently poking a glass jar holding one of her dad's failed and pickled experiments. Some Imp that had its head replaced with an owl she thought. While she was worried about him breaking anything in this room, at least he was occupied with something else. Hopefully, he doesn’t get himself, or Isha for the matter, into any more trouble.
Advertisement
‘ugh’
Ah. Seam’s they’re waking up. Or at least one of them is. And that person was her father, but that wasn’t surprising in so far as he only had been knocked out.
...just had to make sure he didn’t look into a mirror any time soon.
“Isha...? What are you doing here? Ow! Bloody vengeance my head.”
Isha pushed her father back into the medical bed, urging him to hold the icepack on his face.
“Hi, dad. You’re hurt, so please stay on the bed. You, uh, got pretty hurt.”
Please, please, please, don’t ask.
“I did? How did this occur? Another mystical mishap.”
Damn it! Ok, just lie! Lie like your life depends on it!
“Well, um, yeah. I didn’t see what caused it but Jerald and I found you on the ground with your face smashed in. Nothing serious but you were still knocked out.”
Isha hears a sigh from her father, accidents being a common enough occurrence for him to believe her.
“Well, I do remember two of our guards strolling on by after they... took care... of a... Skeleton...”
For a second. So not long at all, but at least a second.
Farlen sprung up from the bed, ignoring his aches and pains. A worried look upon his face, as he grabbed his daughters’ arm.
“Isha, there was this Skeleton! I was so blind with my experiments once again in an attempt to find you, and it got out! It had your mother, and who knows what more chaos it has wrought. Please, you need to help me find the Skeleton!
It was at this moment that Farlen realized said Skeleton was currently chewing on one of his experimental brain transplants. He didn’t hesitate.
“Ice Sp-“
“Dad! Stop!”
“ear!”
Advertisement
Farlen lost his grip on his magical glyph as his daughter grabbed his armed. The spell still went off, but its projectile shattered on the ceiling instead of its intended target. Farlen was left confused as to why his daughter had endangered herself like that, on top of keeping him from putting this unholy menace.
“Isha what are you doing!?”
“He’s my Minion!”
Her father was befuddled for a moment, not quite registering what she said. Then his eyes began to slowly widen as her words began to sink in. Even more so when his magically inclined mind was surely going over the implications of such a statement. Isha only hoped he didn’t react so rashly again. She’d like for the attempted filicide to stop from recurring.
“But that’s-“
“Impossible. Yeah, I know dad. You told me and so did mom about how these things work. But look, there’s proof.”
Isha turned and faced her Skeleton, who if they weren’t an Undead would be choking on the kobold brain. If she didn’t have to save everyone some more pain, she’d have felt embarrassed.
“Put that down.”
The Skeleton obeyed. They spit, somehow, the brain on the ground, and turned to face Isha. Which was nice. Kind of. But Isha knew it may have not been enough proof.
“Jump.”
Sir Skelliton almost sored into the air, his head brushing against the ceiling.
“Spin.”
Sir Skelliton turned in circles.
“Shake.”
The undead started vibrating in place.
“Dance.”
He then did the most ridiculous version of limb flailing that could just barely be considered dancing,
“...Well, it is safe to say I believe you Isha.”
Hearing her father’s words pulled Isha out of her reverie. She had entirely forgotten why she was commanding her undead. She coughed. The red tint on her face was clear as day. It didn’t make things any better her Minion was still dancing.
“You can stop now.”
She turned to face her father and look away from her self-inflicted embarrassment.
Farlen was holding a very complicated look. Thinking about the situation most likely. His face then broke into a smile. One that Isha couldn’t help but relax to.
“A blessing. And one I have to be proud of. Especially since it came from my daughter.”
Isha was filled with elation. The risk had most defiantly worth it to hear such words from him. She could have done without the unintended fights, but you can’t have greatness without risks. Shame her father had to shatter her good mood with his next few words.
“But I have to ask, how did this happen? Even in rare and anomalous circumstances such as these, this is impossible. Only an Awakened individual can gain access to Minions. And you are still far from the appropriate age.”
When Isha failed to answer, his smile fell. As the silence continued, he began to appear more and more worried. A look of resignation came to Isha and she knew she couldn’t put this off anymore. She didn’t even need to speak for Farlen to know.
“Oh, Isha. Please. You could not have been so foolish.”
The level of disappointment in his voice was heartbreaking.
Almost as the spell being roared into the air was ear-shattering,
“Holy Fire!”
Isha’s mother was awake.
Advertisement
Decompose!
Dear diary. When you read stories about some people missing and returning after years of absence claiming they were living in another world, your first reaction is to scoff and dismiss a story as a tall tale, right? I know I did. All the time. Until it happened to me and I no longer did. That day was today. Some god of thunder smote me. If it were Chris Hemsworth, I wouldn't mind but it was some barbaric Hitite god that abaondned Earth some four millennia ago. Yes, what can I say? I love the seventh art. I have more hours watching movies than any other activity, including sleep. What? Do you think I'm exaggerating? Maybe I am. I'll really miss hollywood the most. And my biggest regret is that I never got to visit the holy city of cinema. I did not come to another world to be a hero even though there was hints that they hoped I'd save it. I did not come with overpowered abilities able to, dunno, leap tall castles in a single bound, faster than a speeding crossbow bolt, be more powerful than a eight-horse carriage, the bounds. No. After the asshole god that murdered me brought me to his world, he gave me some boons from his discount bin and "The Power of my Soul (tm)". Forgive my french, I hope you understand I am rather upset at dying. And he somehow decided that my power is to recycle stuff. How awesome is that? Not much at first, I must admit. At least I got all my camping stuff and equipment with me. There's no lycra in the other world. I'll make it someday, but that day is not today. So here I am. In another world, in the middle of nowhere. I'm no heroine. As the song goes, I'm your basic average girl. And I'm assumed to be here to save the world. But almost everything can stop me, because I'm not named Kim. Wish me luck, diary. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ This novel is going have the following features: slow-paced slice-of-life No GameLit / LitRPG elements. Movie references. Sandra likes the seventh art. Journal / diary style crafting (includes chemistry, engineering and metallurgy) low magic technological advancement (for Sandra, at least. She is not against sharing though) personal relations clash of perception between the modern and ancient customs. bits of tension, fighting, and plot here and there. I won't repeat myself though. Once she crafts a good batch of soap, for example, she'll just note, "I crafted soap again." Once it is estabilished how she obtains compound X, compound X2 that is obtainable from the same process will also just be mentioned. I'll try to be as realistic as I can with the crafting, chemistry, and technology. Cover: Public Domain Image by StockSnap from Pixabay. No attribution required but we do it anyway.
8 118The Powers Within
Astrid Roberts is a young black female, who has abilities that aren't acceptable in society. She accidentally killed someone with her powers and therefor was locked away. This is dystopian and therefore we of course have a tyrant as a government. They are believers of a world in which only certain healthy people are allowed to live. They are getting rid of all people that are sick, old, of socially unacceptable. Religion is not an option.
8 137The King's Dungeon
The world of Praelium is a simple one. Wake up in the morning, get dressed, eat some breakfast, stare at the outside scenery and look at all the wild monstrosities that roam the landscape. Oh, and you can't forget the constant battle. Or the magic. And the guilds. Infact, Praelium really isn't simple. Everything is a constant battle to survive, as even in the most peaceful of cities, someone or something will always be out there, rooting for your demise. And the thing that cheers the most for the immediate dissipation of your frail soul? Dungeons. Areas of landscape that are unusual in every way. Vast deserts the size of planets, oceans of lava, you name it, a Dungeon can have it. But in this story? We aren't talking about any old, run of the mill, "Hurr durr, monster, battle, treasure!" type of Dungeon. We're talking about the Dungeon of a King. That's right, you heard me loud and clear. We're following the Dungeon of a King, and its Master, Basileus, in their conquest to become Praelium's greatest, most hated. Praelium's most revered, most feared. Praelium's most adored, most scored. Praelium's finest Dungeon, the cream of the crop, the Dungeon of Dunegons, and the one that will rise above all!
8 201Dead mans tale
In an ancient era when man sought the powers of great sages to combat the devils that roamed the earth, a great war ensued in which a mysterious structure was buried under the sands of time.Now a young boy shall unexpectedly release the mysteries that slumbered for eons
8 162Sideline
At the end of World War 2, people with abilities that couldn't be explained by conventional science began to make their presence known on the world stage. They became known as the empowered. The year is 2006, and the world has bloomed technologically and in many other ways. This is a world of heroes and villains. Unfortunately, our 'protagonist' is a relatively average man in a world where capes and combat is considered normal. He just wants to get his paycheck and go home. Not that life would ever be that easy. New chapter every two weeks on Sunday.
8 72Mind Poetry
A Mind filled with random thoughts.
8 89