Where the Young Prince Stands

             He had died but he still remembered. She awoke, the doctors looked over her. A woman sighed with joyous relief, but he still remembered. The memories of old would slowly fade but she wailed to go home, wailed in a vain hope to return to a life they would never be able to return to. A life she would soon forget.

            The king hid behind his throne from the attack, his guards had not only failed to stop the offenders, but they had opened the door for them. This was not an attack of force, it was one of intimidation, and the king knew he could not win.             He was known as King Vinus XVII, but most of his loved ones referred to him by his birthname of Gron. Although as the years went on, the people who called him that became less and less. He was an old sack of bones with no family and no heirs, once he died, it was the end of his dynasty. The gods had cursed him with infertility and sent a plague upon his lands that took everyone that could have set upon the throne, the common and noble folks alike had begun to doubt his mandate from heaven. Now these Bagmen had made their decision clear.             Face your end like a man. Gron remembere...

            Virgil had to do this. She had been taken from the world far too soon. It wasn’t fair. They always warned him that life wouldn’t be. But shouldn’t it? He thought it should, and he was going to try and make that the case. In order to do this, he would have to face many trials. The first of which was the dog.             The beast with three heads was as tall as a house that some rich man would own. Six beady red eyes the size of basket balls stared back at Virgil, as he approached the gates. The black monster growled at him. But he had a plan for this. Because, despite the two extra heads, Cerberus, was still a dog. Virgil reached into his back pocket and pulled out three strips of bacon dog treats.             “Sit!” Virgil commanded. The dog sat down and slowly began to shrink down in size. until it was not much larger than Virgil’s...

            It was all hell; it was all suffering. Nothing in the world could make him happy no matter how hard he tried, not his interests, not eating his comfort foods, not even the people he loved. No matter what, this miserable world would not let him be happy. The older he got the more aware of everything he became the more he saw the ugly side of it all. Everything he thought he could trust turned out to be a lie, every bit of good he thought he could do for the world turned out to either be pointless or actively harmful to the thing he was trying to help. The only thing he thought he did right and was good were the things that made the people he loved happy. Even if he did not feel that happiness, he wanted to make them feel it. They were the only thing that made his life worth living, not the people how good he was just for doing his job, the job he had to do to put food on the table, not people asking him to be selfless and to suffer when that was ...

               Swordarok, the Dark Lord, Emperor of the Evil Empire, had but one weakness. He could not start his day until he had his coffee, that was nonnegotiable. After that, he and his generals could start plotting what village to burn down next. The youngest general suggested capturing slaves but Swordarok reminded him that allowing survivors only results in them vowing vengeance and coming after the men who did it. Next on the agenda was for Swordarok to brood in his throne room. He always made sure to look menacing, ready for some hero to burst on through. They would say something along the lines of, you-killed-my-father, or your-reign-of-tyranny-ends-today! They would always quickly fall to him, thinking that spamming one attack while constantly drinking healing potions was enough. Normally that would be but Swordarok discovered that if you don’t repeat the same attack patterns over and over you become harder to beat. Unfortuna...

Round 1: The bell rang, this was Jacob’s last chance, in the twilight of his career, he could finally become World Middleweight Boxing Champion. With the old champ having retired, and the #1 contender out with injury, it had gone to #2 and #3 to fight for the vacant title. Jacob knew his opponent #2 very well. Bjorn Karlson was his longest-term rival, they were 2, 2, and 1 against each other, Jacob knew this would be their final bout. Jacob did not hesitate, immediately going in for a Gazelle Punch, Bjorn dodged before going for a Flicker Jab, Jacob dodged that. They knew each other far too well, and now that had just 12 rounds to end this rivalry once and for all. Round 2: Bjorn felt like that first round could have killed him, although with his age, that was the case for all first rounds. He was already getting into the mindless state where his body worked on its own. As the next round began, he continued to ponder on the build up the fight. It had been hyped up as a clash between ...

There the young prince stood, having just stabbed the tyrant through the heart, having just vanquished his father. The crown rolled on the ground to his feet, it was his, his right by birth and destiny. He could rule and he knew just how. With his absolute authority he could execute the sources of corruption that fueled his father’s kingdom, he could make sure everyone had their fair shot but… he would still be king. That same system that had allowed his father to ruin and end millions of lives would still be there, it didn’t matter how good the king was, the king could still be evil. With one step, the symbol of the tyrant was destroyed along with everything it represented, everyone man, woman, and child would be their own king.

    Welcome to my Blog! I am Lucius Jack, and I will be your storyteller. This site is more or less just a place for me to finally have a good place to start publishing my work and get feedback. I know that as of right now, I suck. But I can't get better without your help. So thank you for your time, and enjoy the show.