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Prompt the Poster Above You

MadXStitcher

Well-Known Member
Similar to the thread in the art forum, let's do one for the authors. Only, instead of trying to write for other people's characters, we'll prompt for them.

Rules:
  • Please try to write as often as you prompt
  • Prompts can be as vague or specific as you like.
  • These are prompts; not requests. Authors can use prompts however they wish, even if that means taking them in a wholly different direction
  • If you have specific characters you want to write for, include them in a post, or in your signature
  • Authors can choose any prompt in the thread, even if it is not addressed directly to them.

Fiction should be posted according to the forum rules. If you write something over 200 words, please post it off-site and link so this thread remains easy to read.

First prompt to get the thread going: Someone has chewing gum stuck in their tail.
 

Toasty9399

Above Earth
Today isn't a good day.
It started when I fell asleep inside my car in the middle of summer. The shade that I parked under at the university disappeared, and it slowly became an oven.
After visiting the school nurse for heat stroke, I was late for class. Usually I don't mind arriving late, but today was a test. I had to cram a two hour test into thirty minutes. The worst part is, I pulled an all-nighter studying for the thing, hence why I took a nap in the first place.
After handing it in, I went to get food. The line was long, which was normal at this time of day when multiple classes ended. When I arrived at the counter with my food, I realized I left my wallet at home.
Great, just great.
At the end of my day, I drove home. When I tried to get out after arriving, something pulled at me. Looking back, my tail was stuck to my seat. There was a little pink smudge that shouldn't be there.
For the whole day, I was walking around with chewing gum stuck to my tail.
And then I got hit by a truck.
 

Tallow_Phoenix

Totally not a vampire
First prompt to get the thread going: Someone has chewing gum stuck in their tail.

Aaah I wrote a thing and got ninja'd!
Well, I'll post what I had anyways.

------

"WHICH ONE OF YOU BASTARDS DID THIS!?"
Everyone in the tavern panicked as Brutilda the Butcher slammed the door open, snarling and snapping at anyone who approached.
"Whoa, calm do-"
"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!! SOME IDIOT PUT CHEWING GUM IN MY TAIL WHILE I SLEPT!! I'M GOING TO START BASHING HEADS UNTIL I FIND OUT WHO IT WAS!"
The quick-thinking rogue suggested, "What if you get a wizard to-"
"SO IT WAS THE WIZARD!" Brutilda picked up a frail-looking robed figure and threw him into the wall.
"...did he even have chewing gum on him?"
"I mean, at least Brutilda isn't hurting anyone else..."
Brutilda picked up the wizard and shook him. Scrolls and potions clattered to the ground - but no gum.
"Alright, I'm shaking down EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU until I find out which one of you has chewing gum!!!"
But the rogue, the real perpetrator, had already fled.
 

GenkinDanshou

New Member
I'm new enough to still be a wet egg, but I do wanna be a writer on this site, so I'd better get serious about it! Unfortunately, I have no idea how HMTL works, so I just put extra spaces everywhere! Whoops, I went over 200, uhh. Two parts?

----

"You're a truck driver. There's no such thing as a good day." I sigh, fighting my impulse to hang up on my ever-so-supportive mother, waiting back home for her dear daughter-bun to get over her free-wheeling hippie phase and come back to the warren. But I'd be in for a worse earful if I ever forgot to call, so I have to allow it.

"I mean, this one was worse than normal. First I overslept--"

"Typical Neena..." She knows I hate that nickname.

"Then I pick up a hitchhiker because I'm bored out of my tiny, stunted skull--" I have to raise my voice to get any word in edgewise, and it's earning me looks I don't want to be getting here at near-midnight in a dingy truck-stop.

"Honey! Now what have I said about berating your unique and precious--" She missed the part about the hitchhiker, good.

"THEN," I continue, louder still, aware there's a complaint in process, a large-pawed gentleman gesturing in my direction to the towering security officer with an unfortunately long neck, even for a giraffe-type, "HE PAID ME IN CHEWING GUM, AND THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A PLUS, except for how it got stuck in my tail fur..." I have to drop my voice now. The security officer I can only think to dub Neck-Man is now patting his taser-holster and striding up to the pay phone wall.
 

GenkinDanshou

New Member
{part 2}

I completely lose my train of thought, absolutely astonished when he stops beside me and dips his head towards the phone on the wall, plucks loose change out of what I thought was a holster, and begins placing a call. The gentleman of the generously-sized paws seems irritated by Neck-Man's life decisions and slowly stands up from his hilariously-undersized cafeteria table. Its little metal feet screech against the floor, which sets the fur at the back of my neck on end.

My mother is droning on, attempting to lecture me about haircuts and bubblegum and the evils of sugar in our hedonistic modern society or some crap like that, but the gentleman is making eye contact and he's a literal lion with a wrinkle above his nose like he's about to roar for quiet over the tinny din of the 24-hour news channel on the television. I screech "GOTTA GO, BYE" into the earpiece and hang up in a flash. Neck-Man doesn't even look up, still dialing, slower than the elderly rat-grandma behind the hot-food counter.

Now the wrinkle is even deeper, spreading across his cheeks. His eyes are scrunched up too now, and he bares his teeth. I curse my jack-rabbit pulse, keeping me rooted to the spot, and curse it even louder when I literally have a heart attack when Mister Lion sneezes and sits back down, not even looking at me anymore.

My legs give out on me all at once, and my fluffy little butt hits the floor. I pound on my chest with my stupidly tiny fist, hissing at the discomfort, but it eases off with deep breathing exercises before the world's slowest giraffe here next to me even realizes something's wrong.

Well, I was wrong. Today wasn't a good day. No, that's still true. It's just that now, it's the worst day ever.
 

Tallow_Phoenix

Totally not a vampire
Well, since no one posted a prompt, I will ^^

You open your refrigerator one day to find your vegetables have become sentient!
 

Toasty9399

Above Earth
"MAA!" Zu yelled, frightend. "MA COME DOWN HERE!"
A loud croak answered her.
"MA, I'M SERIOUS! THE FOOD AR'ALIVE!"
Another croak.
"MA! PLEASE! GAH?!" A large carrot launched itself at her, poking her eye.
"If this bout' the food I cooked last night, y'all can' jus tell me."
Inside the fridge, a group of vegetables were rallying against Zu, getting ready to launch themselves. They were shaking in anger.
"PLeasE!" She cried. Zu hopped away from the protest, but it was too late. A wild tomato whacked against her face, making the frog see stars. She fell to the ground.
"A-alright, if use' didn' like the stew, A'h show you how to aprecia-" The croak stopped mid sentence as Mamma' Zuku entered. The food stared in fear.
"Oh, A' see. It is bout' ma stew. I'll make em' preciate' ma cookin'."
Screams of horror came from the fridge.
That night, vegetables stew was served.
 

Arishipshape

Glaceon Ex-Knight
John awoke to the all too familiar sound of silence, and hit the snooze bar out of tradition. His alarm clock had long since run out of power, and batteries were a far too highly valued commodity to waste his precious resources on. Besides, he didn't have anywhere to be.
He stretched, his tattered rags clinging to him while the slight draft attempted to remove them. The cave in which he lived might not have kept wind out, but it kept him dry.
Sleepily, John took his rock and chisel to add a tally mark to the ever shrinking available wall space. He was about to make the first strike when he noticed a reminder mark he'd left to himself... A sideways "X" in the wall, meaning it was most vital that he do something on this day... But what?
He racked his brain. The water supply was fine, his simple tools needed no sharpening, it wasn't his night to stand watch at the trading post... The trading post!
He rifled through his supply stash in the back of the cave, cleverly hidden between two stalagmites. Hardtack, beef jerky, slingshot stones, medicinal potion, wait, medicinal potions... He was down to his last dose.
Yes, it was coming back to him now. The day prior, some desperate father stumbled upon his cave and begged John for just 2 doses of panacea for his sick daughters. He obliged.
"I musta been insane..." he muttered. Why, oh why did he share his incredibly limited stock of supplies? He should've given that damned family the boot.
Oh well. Nothing could be done about foolish mistakes made in days yonder. All John could influence was the future. He wasn't gonna waste a second sulking.
Today presented a unique issue. With what would he trade? John had frittered away his last bag of salt (invaluable in this day and age) for his current large food stash... And jobs weren't exactly easy to come by. He owned the clean water spring in the cave, but he couldn't carry enough water to be worth even half a panacea dose... And who would believe him? "Hey, I have all the fresh water you could ever drink!" A ludicrous claim. Sure, that spring was pretty much the only reason he'd survived this long. That didn't mean jack squat in the world of trade.
He'd have to risk it. There was nothing else he could do.

The desolate landscape devoid of vegetation sprawled before him, the majestic yet looming mountain behind. John removed his compass (passed down from his father) from his one remaining pocket and found southwest. The wind was against him, but he pressed onward. It was almost impossible not to get depressed at seeing the sorry state of the world, what with the dust in the air, fissures and cracks in the ground, and no other people to share the journey with. He considered turning back, but what happens next time he's stricken by plague? Or, more precisely, the time after that?

After two hours hard march, the walls of the trading post were in view. But something was off. It was uncannily silent. Typically, the hustle and bustle of wheeling, dealing, and swindling could be heard for miles. And where was the sentry that was supposed to stand guard at the gates? And why were the gates open?
John sped up, worried. The trading post was the last bastion of civilization for miles. If something happened to it...

Instead of entering by the front gate, John opted for a secret back entrance only he and a very few others knew about. A small tunnel, built into the base of the town hall, the only permanent infrastructure at the post. Everyone else did business in tents. After a short climb through the hallow wall, John was up in the rafters. He was about to drop down when the sound of a gunshot and splintering wood not 2 feet from him interrupted.

"Nobody moves," demanded a gruff voice from below. Hardly daring to turn his head for fear of creaking the rafters, John looked down. Below him was a large crowd of traders, merchants, and fellow survivors, all huddled into a tight corner by a single masked, revolver wielding bandit.
John quickly intuited the situation. It was a stick up. Someone was robbing the trading post. Ordinarily, John wouldn't have interfered in such affairs. Unfortunately, this was the only place with medicinal potions he knew about. He had to do something.

He snuck back out of the hostage center and climbed onto the roof. Sure enough, in the distance he could see a gang of thieves of all species robbing all the merchant stands blind. They spared nothing. Slightly further away, he could see a large caravan on wheels in which the thieves loaded the goods.
John sized up the situation, and what he had at his disposal. He had his slingshot and about a dozen stones. They had guns and God knows how much ammunition. There was one of him and... he should probably count them.
1,2,3...
At least 4 of them. He had the element of surprise, they had... nothing half so useful.
John steeled his will and snuck back into the town hall.

Upon his return, two small girls in the crowd were crying, despite the thief's demands for quiet. John recognized them from somewhere... Bah, he had to focus. From the rafters, he took aim, built up some momentum, and launched the stone at a downward angle.
CRACK
Days of nothing to do but target practice had paid off. The man fell down like the stone that hit him. John dropped to the ground and addressed the startled crowd.
"Do any of you have any weapons?"
Everyone shook their heads. One trader muttered something about confiscation. John sighed.
"Stay here."
John picked up the thief's gun and dashed out the door.

As he snuck from tent to tent, he checked the revolver. A single bullet lay in the chamber. John silently cursed his luck and pocketed the gun. He'd have to stick with stones, at least, for now. Ah, there was a bandit carrying a bag of salt far too large for his skinny figure. Easy pickings. Aim, whirl and--
thud
Of all the miserable luck, the man went and turned at the last moment! The rock bounced harmlessly off the salt and the bandit shouted to alert his fellows. John armed another stone and had him unconscious within 2 seconds, but the damage was done. The element of surprise was no more.
Or was it?

The bandit chief, in the driver's seat of the caravan, heard one of his faithful comrades shout something. "Go check it out," he ordered his minion. The poor fellow complied, only to be met with the unconscious body of his dear friend.

"Paul, what happened? What did they do-"
CRACK
John was lying in wait in one of the many scattered merchant tents. There was only one bandit left, so he switched to the stolen revolver. His confidence was bolstered and he stopped sneaking around. However, the last bandit was nowhere to be found...
 

Arishipshape

Glaceon Ex-Knight
Part 2:
Meanwhile, chaos and disorder reigned at the town hall. Some argued that the hostages should stay there, where it was safe. Others demanded that, seeing as the guard was incapacitated, they should storm out and reclaim their various wares and supplies. Eventually, John's order was forgotten and most of the crowd took their leave.

The bandit chief heard the commotion and decided to cut his losses. He turned on the archaic engine attached to the caravan and drove away from the crowd.

Big mistake. John heard the engine firing and easily followed the noise to the bandit chief.

"Hey! Stop!" he shouted. The chief paid no heed, and instead nearly ran John over. One somersault later and John was safe, but the bandit was getting away! John took aim with his gun... His hands were shaky, he'd never operated a firearm before... He didn't think he could hit the rapidly dwindling target of the bandit chief... But he could hit a slightly larger one.

BANG

The caravan leaned over to one side and fell with a dramatic crash. John had shot the wheel. Water flooded into the parched ground, tools clattered and clanked against each other, meat and spices fragrance leaked out in ample amounts. The crowd of hostage traders and merchants witnessed the crash, and within seconds they were scrounging and scavenging for all their stolen supplies. The bandit chief took advantage of the commotion to escape.

Despite the fact that he saved them all, no one bothered to give John a crack at the caravan's wealth. Try as he might, he couldn't grab much of anything.

Within seconds, like starved piranhas stripping away flesh, everything of value was gone and the crowds had fled. Except for a familiar man, with two young girls clinging to him... The family approached John.

"You... you've saved us twice now."

"Don't mention it," muttered John.

"We could never fully repay your selflessness... but perhaps we could partially repay some of it? Lucy, give the man what you found."

Lucy, small and agile, had managed to grab some panacea potions from the caravan wreckage, and offered it to John. He accepted, stunned.

"Daddy..." muttered one of the girls. "Where will we live?"

The father of the two looked forlorn at the caravan. John quickly intuited that it was their home, before he shot the wheel.

"I have a place you can stay, until we repair your caravan."

EDIT: I'm incredibly new to writing, any criticism would be much appreciated!

New prompt: a book with a dark secret is found in an attic.
 
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GenkinDanshou

New Member
Oooh, I love 'hiding in plain sight' drama! I'll try the attic-secret one!

---
"Jaaaake!"
"Whaaaat?" The voice is almost too far away to hear, but of course my brother makes it carry with his whiny tone.
"I found iiiit!"
"Whaaaat?" A little closer this time.
"The BOOK!" After that, silence. I wait for him to navigate the fresh rope-ladder we had to personally construct to gain access to this attic. This house we'd moved into after the humans left had rotted in places, but it still had enough of a roof to keep us warm and dry at night. I battle my impatience as I wait for him to slither up to my side. The humans had two arms and two legs, their old art makes this clear. Not fair, honestly, though we should be grateful we have arms at all, as descendants of snakes.
Jake passes over my tail, like I've told him to stop doing a thousand times, but this time, I don't bother. The book here is too important.
"It's hollow!" he shouts, noticing how I've opened it to partway through. "Someone's cut all the pages out? What for?"
"Not all of them," I correct him, leafing through it. "Just the middle part. Like it's meant to hide something."
"To hide this, you mean," he nods down at the strange object nestled in the pages.
"You don't recognize it?"
"Should I?"
"It's the gun that shot our mother." He gasps, stressed enough to rear back and flatten his neck, though no predator could have stalked us here.
"HERE?"
"It's a clue," I insist, eyes unwavering, staring at the cursed thing as though it could evaporate and take our blood oath with it.
"It's a ticking time bomb," he insists right back. "Get rid of it!"
"It's all we have to go on!" But I bite my lip as I say it. I don't want to, of course I don't want to. We're comfortable here. Not exactly well-fed or anything, but we survive! We don't have to fight out here, like we did back then... Back in the warzone outside of Chernobyl... But with this clue, we'll be dragged right back in; honor-bound to find our mother's murderer, now that we have his weapon, and kill him with it.
 
D

Deleted member 134689

Guest
And a prompt: "Kid, I've never seen a fish like THAT."

The feline's head snapped in the direction of said fish girl. Burnt brown orbs glinted with something vaguely predatory as they skimmed her scantily clad figure, lips curling just slightly in approval of the form they beheld. Sure she was younger than her male companion but she was by no means a kid, nontheless.. Lisa had never seen a fish like THAT either.
 
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Arishipshape

Glaceon Ex-Knight
Hey man, your post super good. Jesus, I never expected such a large reply. I love it. Do you have any other work?
You're too kind. I have no posted work. Yet. I'm working in tandem with Darknessdawn on a longer story but it's still in the early phases of production.
Prompt: The airship’s engines stopped working.

"YES!"

The cry of jubilation could be heard through the whole house. A confused, sleepy roommate stumbled into the sitting room from which the scream was issued.

"Lucas, it's eleven at night, could you please try to keep it down? Some of us are trying to get some shut eye-"
"I'm sorry, Fred, I'm really sorry but I GOT THE TRANSFER!"

Fred was taking a sip of water, but any notions of hydration were easily dispelled by the news. Lucas was drenched by the spray of surprise, but he wasn't miffed in the slightest.

"You did?! To the HMAS Anne?"
"No, to the Nebuchadnezzar, YES TO THE ANNE!"
"I can't believe it!"
"I can't either! The finest airship in the fleet, and I get to serve! Look, right here, in the letter, "Dear Mr. Thompson, We recognize your achievements in the field of super-g force propulsion engines and would be most honored to have your skills in service of the jewel of the fleet"! SQUEEE"

In most other situations, Fred would have mocked this girlish outburst. But even he knew to serve on the HMAS Anne was undoubtedly the single coolest thing any engineer could ever hope to accomplish with his life.

"When do you start?"
"Lemme see, uhhh... Tomorrow? HOT DAMN I'VE GOTTA PACK"

And so he did. Never before did such simple possessions as his toothbrush and rubik's cube seem so beautiful to his eyes.
An hour later, Lucas was all packed. He stopped to admire the oil pastel painting of the HMAS Anne that hung in the lobby of his apartment before saluting and rushing out the door. The night was dark and cold, but no amount of darkness or coldness could have dampened Lucas' spirits that night. As if to test him, it began to rain. He defied the elements, smiling all the while despite becoming quite soaked.
The bus pulled into the station, and Lucas boarded. He paid the fare, sat down, pulled his hat down and prepared to get as much shut eye as he could on the hours long drive. Pfft. This would be the last time he would be forced to take ground transit. The thought made him chuckle during his descent to unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, something much more sinister was going on at the Anne. Masked men, dressed in all black and carrying a conspicuous black box, scanned an access card and gained entry onto the docked airship. Minutes later, they left just as quickly as they came. No one ever noticed them.

The next morning, a groggy but excited Lucas stepped off the bus and ran into the airport.

"Thompson, reporting for duty, sir!"
"Ahh, the new engineer," mused the administrator. "Welcome. You have your things?"
"Transferal papers, uniform, personal effects, and all the hype in the world? Yup!"
The administrator chuckled. "Very well, Mr. Thompson. You will be escorted to the HMAS Anne shortly."

Lucas was in awe. The airship was even more beautiful up close and in person.
He boarded this ship with a solemn reverence.

"Ok, we're going to introduce you to the Captain and then you can begin your engineering duties."
Lucas nodded ecstatically as the pair boarded the bridge.

"Captain Antilles," began the escort, before getting cut off.
"You got the PHD punk? Oh thank God. Send him to engineering and let's get my ship off the ground!"
This was not the warm welcome Lucas was expecting.
"Sir, my name is-"
"Yea yea, Thompson, I know. Geeet!"
The Captain was a fat, bearded, middle aged man, who clearly didn't hold Lucas in the highest regard. The man that escorted him facepalmed and quietly explained ""Geeet" means get out of here. I'll, er, take you to engineering..."
 

Arishipshape

Glaceon Ex-Knight
Part 2:

Despite the poor introduction, Lucas' spirits weren't crushed in the slightest. Especially when he got to rub his hands over the dials, levers, pulleys, and buttons of the Anne. They were pristine, shiny, all shades of grey, red, and silver. An engineer's dream. Hold on...

"The hydrogen meter is reading WAY lower than regulation standard! What's wrong?"
"I don't know, man, that's not my job," said the escort. "You can ring up the bridge with this walkie-talkie if you wanna tell the captain something, but I don't think he'd listen..."
"Why not? I'm his chief engineer!"
The escort man just chuckled and left Lucas to his own devices.
The newly employed engineer tapped the hydrogen gage, as if hoping it might be displaying incorrectly. Nope, definitely way too low. He utilized his engineering knowledge and knowhow to try to diagnose exactly what was causing the shortage, but it was the darndest, most inexplicable problem he'd ever run into in all his papers, tests, and studies of mechanical operations. He didn't want to ring up the Captain within the first 5 minutes of service, but what else was he gonna do?

"*KCCHHCK*-- Captain? This is chief engineer Thompson. Have we taken off yet?"
"*KCCHKHC*-- What, do they surgically remove all common sense from you youngsters at the universities? Does it FEEL like we've taken off?"
"*KCCHKHC*-- ...No, sir. I recommend we delay our flight. There's an abnormally low amount of hydrogen in the--"
"*KCHKHKC*-- Son, I've been Captain of this here ship for 30 years, and we're gonna take flight when I SAY we're gonna take flight. Understood?"
"*KCHKHCK*-- ...But sir--"
"*KCHKCHK*-- Don't you disrespect me, kid! I only commissioned you because the damned bureaucrats say I have to have a certified engineer and my last one quit! So just shut up and follow orders! Kapeesh?"
"*KCHKCH*-- ...Yes, sir..."

Lucas pocketed the walkie-talkie with an incredulous look. This explains the incredibly short notice of his transfer... they didn't actually respect his skills as an engineer... However sad that was, there was still the problem of the low hydrogen quantities. This was bad news for about a million different reasons, each as technically complicated as the last.

Despite Lucas' objections, the HMAS Anne took off. And flew. Without any issues for a good half hour. Lucas was flabbergasted. Had all his years of study been for naught? Was he just an incompetent university engineer, a tool for men like Captain Antilles to check off bureaucratic boxes--

BANG
POW
*Pop pop popopopopopopop*

"*KCHKHCK*-- Thompson! What in blazes is going on!?!"

Lucas froze. This was too much.

"*KCHKHCK*-- Thompson! Come in! We've lost engines 1, 2, and 4! Reroute power from the stabilizers to the remaining engine!"

Lucas shook his head vigorously. Now wasn't the time to panic, or to self righteously proclaim "I told you so". It was time to save everyone's asses. No more Mr. fanboy Lucas who squeed at the mention of the HMAS Anne. It was chief engineer Thompson's turn. He turned on his walkie-talkie.

"*KCKHCHK*-- Yes, sir."

He did as the Captain ordered, and then some. Years of study, training, and acquired expertise came through as Lucas pulled levers, adjusted dials, and switched flight courses like a madman. He reallocated the remaining hydrogen marvelously, calculated the maximally efficient angle of descent to cause the least damage to the airship, contacted the closest airport for an emergency landing, cooperated with the captain perfectly, distributed orders for the first time in his life, and was generally the best engineer he'd ever been in his life.

2 minutes later, the HMAS Anne crashlanded at the Sicatawa airport with minimal casualties and no deaths.

Chief engineer Thompson was a hero. Captain Antilles suddenly gained a newfound respect for those "PHD punks" and was a changed man.
The low hydrogen levels were later revealed to have been sabotage by a rival country, which could have started a world war if not for the fact that after becoming incriminated, they donated about ten airships of their own to make restitution for their "heinous actions" which they "greatly regretted".
The end.

P.S. "HMAS"= His/Her Majesty's Air Ship

EDIT: P.P.S, As you may have noticed, my two stories feature pretty much exclusively human characters. I'd love to remedy this, but my knowledge of types of creatures that fur affinity posted stories might utilize is woefully inadequate for any storytelling. Is there some sort of wiki or website where I might learn the various species, the differences between classifications such as anthro and feral, their attributes, tendencies, commonalities, and how to best implement them into a story setting? Is there some sort of "furry-verse" with established rules, magics, and species I might read about?
 
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Tallow_Phoenix

Totally not a vampire
"Are you sure about this, Tiri?"
The small mouse wizard nodded vigorously. "I checked it with my identification spell. It definitely belonged to the great battlemage Lucia the Star-Blessed. Not only is it said to grant great strength and magical ability, it also grants great luck! You said you liked gambling, right?"
"Yeah, but..." Gent looked down at the fine ruffled linens stretched out over his muscular frame. The sleeves, made to fit close to a slender frame, were restricting the blood flow to his fingers.
"Come on! This is an amazingly rare find! I’d wear it, but it definitely won't fit me." Indeed, the mouse, though unusually sized, was only just large enough to fit in the bell-shaped skirt of the dress.
"I look like the Queen of Astoria," the lion warrior moaned.
"How about this," the young wizard said encouragingly. "We can try out its power at the Carius Mines. It's closed down, so no one will see you. And it's just a short walk from here."
Gent sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll do it."
"That's the spirit!" Tiri replied brightly.

A roar echoed deep within the cavernous walls of the abandoned mine. Pebbles shook loose from the ceiling as heavy footfalls approached them. A deformed reptilian face appeared from around a corner, foaming from the mouth and leering with glowing, veiny orange eyes.
Gent gulped. “Well, here goes nothing.”
“I’ll back you up!” Tiri said as he hid behind a rock.
Gent gripped his axe and raised it above his head, then winced as he heard a loud RRRRIIIIIPPPP from his sleeves. The beast, incensed by the sound, charged with an ear-splitting shriek.
“IT’S FINE, YOU’RE DOING GREAT!” Tiri called as he flung a fire spell at the beast, then booked it back towards the entrance.
Gent gritted his teeth, cursing his luck, and swung his axe. To his amazement, the axe emitted an aura of magical lightning as he swung it, striking the beast and sent it flying through several layers of rock. As the mine began to collapse around him, Gent laughed and punched his way through boulders towards the entrance with his new-found strength.

At last, he emerged, with his sleeves in tatters and a huge grin on his face.
“This is great!” he said to the rattled mouse wizard waiting outside. “I’m never taking this thing off!”


--------------------------

Prompt: A vampire living alone on a cursed island finds themselves with some unexpected and unusual company.
 
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