Lucas continued following the old man for three blocks. I can’t believe he’s actually headed right for my favorite spot, Lucas thought.

That spot was the darkest part of the city, and there was an alley between two tall buildings, the perfect place for a mugging.

Lucas loved the thrill of the chase, especially because his mark never knew it was coming. And this one would probably have a good haul tonight, for the old man had been in a few pricey stores already.

When it was time, there was no one around, just the two of them. So perfect.

Lucas sped up behind the old man and moved to shove him into the alley.

Before he even realized it, Lucas was flipped over the man, slammed to the ground, punched in the face and stabbed in the shoulder with a knife.

Lucas screamed out in pain for a fraction of a second before the old man’s hand was on Lucas’s mouth.

“Keep your voice down, you wimp,” the surprisingly strong old man said. And now that Lucas got a better look at him, he was not really that old.

“You gonna be quiet?” the man asked.

Hand still on his mouth, Lucas nodded, vigorously.

The man grabbed the long knife and drew it swiftly out of Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas winced but the knife was pointed back at his eyes so quickly that he suppressed anything audible.

“God, you disgust me,” the man said. “I wish you would stop this petty thievery, you’re terrible at it.”

Lucas cocked his head. “Do I know you?”

The man just laughed.

“Look,” Lucas said. I’m s- sorry I tried to rob you, just let me go, p- please don’t kill me.”

The man looked Lucas In the eyes. “I can’t kill you. Believe me, I want to. But I can’t.”

“Wh- Why? Lucas asked.

The man pulled back his shirt collar to reveal an old scar from a stab wound in his shoulder. “Because I AM you!”

(The word prompt today was “You.”)

[– 31 Fantasy Characters in 31 Days –]

Eramok~Loth stood tall and proud as he surveyed the barren wasteland. He stepped gracefully and quietly around small boulders, remnants of some forgotten building. He reveled in the silence.

He walked for more than a year just to be certain it had all worked. He wanted to see it with his own eyes. And at the end of his journey, he saw that it had. Miles upon miles of nothing but dirt, ash, and rubble. The whole world, gone. No more tiny creatures to listen to quarrel and destroy each other. No more noise. It was, in a word, bliss.

He reached his long arms down several feet and scooped up a pile of ash. He materialized a vial from nowhere and placed the ash inside, securing it with a stopper. The vial faded away once he willed it to.

Eramok~Loth lifted his head to the sky that was no longer there, billions of stars and galaxies as far as his ancient eyes could see.

“AUDRA!” he called in a booming voice.

A human appeared from nowhere at the feet of the giant, its head almost reaching Eramok~Loth’s ankle. Eramok~Loth looked down. The little creature was trembling as it gazed up at the towering behemoth.

“Come,” Eramok~Loth said. “There are more worlds to quiet. I must have peace.”

(The word prompt today was “Silence.”)

[– 31 Fantasy Characters in 31 Days –]

Dugo poured a little more sugar syrup in the barrel and grabbed the tall handle of the paddle and gave the brew a good stir. After several churns, he hopped down off his stepladder, grabbed a stone goblet and opened the tap on the barrel. The pale amber liquid flowed into his cup, a tall foamy head forming.

He drew in a breath. He raised it to his lips.

The smell stopped him. Just for a second.

He took in a mouthful, swallowed a bit, then gagged as he tried to spew out the rest.

“Swill!” Dugo shouted, and threw the goblet across the room. It cracked into three pieces when it hit the floor.

He wiped the concoction off his long brown beard with both hands, then grimaced when he could smell the stuff on his fingers.

“I’ll never open this pub if I can’t—”

That’s when the burning started. First the lips, then the mouth. His insides started to burn too. He felt his face get hot and he tried to breathe but found he couldn’t. He reached up to unbutton his collar, but stopped when he saw the flesh of his hands sliding from his bones.

Dugo was dead before he hit the floor.

(The word prompt today was “Brew.”)

[– 31 Fantasy Characters in 31 Days –]

Mali did love a nice silk robe. But was this the occasion for such an indulgence? Granted it was the largest gathering of nobility in a decade, but what would this robe say to his fellow lords?
Mali heard a loud sigh from across the room, but he didn’t turn around. He exchanged the robe for a frock coat and held that up to his chest as he admired it draped across his frame in the mirrored wall of his wardrobe.

Another sigh.

“Is there a problem, my dear?” Mali asked. This time he glanced back and saw his wife pacing back and forth.

“By my mother’s fur, you take longer to get ready than I do,” she said.

The mention of fur reminded Mali that he still needed to groom and preen before getting dressed. His fur was beyond passable, but tonight he needed it to be immaculate. Now it was Mali’s time to sigh. “So much to do, so little time.”

His wife groaned in frustration.

Mali smiled. “Clothes make the man, my dear.”

“If only I were married to a man,” she said as she stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

Mali made a mock surprised face to himself in the mirror. “Well, that seemed uncalled for.”

Then he laughed and grabbed another robe.

(The word prompt today was “Wardrobe.”)

[– 31 Fantasy Characters in 31 Days –]

Vahka finished the armor ritual, her torso clad in twice-fire-hardened chitin, her six legs in recently-tanned leather from the hides of last month’s dead. Their sacrifice would not be in vain, she prayed.

Before her lay the paints, and a full length mirror. With careful precision, she methodically took a jar in one hand and used two other hands to adorn her body in the colors.

A crimson red, containing actual blood from this evening’s meal, she splayed across her three arms, and the shoulder of what was left of the fourth. It symbolized the butchery that was to come.

A deep blue, of crushed flowers and grub ichor, to symbolize the coming night of war, across her chest.

Black, from the tar pits of home, across her face, a shadow of death to her enemies.

And finally, bright yellow, from plant seeds and water, full across her palms of six fingers each. The coming dawn she prayed she would see.

“This war must end tonight,” she said aloud to no one.

(The word prompt today was “Paint.”)

[– 31 Fantasy Characters in 31 Days –]