Onavina woke to the sounds of clashing swords and shouting men on the road that ran along her property. She sprung out of bed with an agility that even surprised herself. After throwing on a tattered robe she grabbed her cane and hobbled out the door of her home.

Down at the end of her pristinely-trimmed walkway, along the edge of the fence that surrounded her front yard, a skirmish was taking place between two small squads of soldiers. Some wore red, some bore green. She didn’t care who they were, as long as they stayed off her lawn.

It took her tired, aging frame several minutes to hobble to the end of the walkway where the gate still remained tightly shut. When she reached it, two men grappled within arms reach of the fence.

“You there!” she shouted at them.

The one in green turned in surprise and the one in red fighting him took advantage of this and ran his opponent through. Then he turned to Onavina.

“Get back in your house old crone! This is no place for you, this is a battle!”

“Do you see that sign posted there?” she replied calmly. She pointed at a wooden plank next to the gate.

The man looked shocked by her regard of him and after making sure he was in no danger from his enemies he came closer and read it aloud.

“No trespassing?” he scoffed. “You crazy old woman, you want to die, that’s your problem.” And he turned back to the battle.

Onavina lifted her cane a few inches from the ground then tapped it to the stone tile of the walkway. An ear-shattering thunderclap filled the area and stopped the battle in an instant.

“Now that I have your attention,” Onavina said to all the men, gesturing to her sign. “This sign here? I posted it. This is my property, and I don’t want any of you on it. Go take your war elsewhere.”

After a long pause, three dozen men all looked at each other and started to laugh.

At her.

After a few moments of this, they remembered their squabble. One of them shoved another so hard they broke through her fence.

Onavina’s eyes went wide with anger.

And then came the fire from her cane as she burned the trespasser to ash, thus sending almost three dozen men away screaming.

(The word prompt today was “Post-It.”)

[– 31 Fantasy Characters in 31 Days –]

When I heard the screams down the road in the courtyard I dropped my fork and ran out the door as fast as I could. I never expected to see what I saw.

It was Old Hamot, waiving his sword around and around like a sling. Peasants, men and women, were gathered all around the well, their backs to the castle wall, barracks to the left, blacksmith to the right.

They were trapped.

“Hamot, stop, what are you doing?” I yelled.

He came closer to the people, still swinging that sword. I couldn’t believe the ninety year-old had the strength to lift it, let alone wield the damn thing. I had seen him perform this maneuver decades ago, it was his way of showing off before he killed an enemy.

The women screamed as the men that were there, farmers really, tried to form a feeble wall of protection.

I came from behind Old Hamot running as fast as I could and tackled him to the ground. I heard a bone break, and the old knight screamed.

I was just getting myself off the ground when I turned around and saw him already up, arm hanging at his side, running to his sword!

Once again I came from behind but this time grabbed his tunic collar and turned him around.

His eyes. I’ve never forgotten those eyes. They darted this way and that, as if he were on a field of battle.

“Hamot! What’s wrong? It’s me, Rem! Stop this!”

“Their king is dead!” Old Hamot said, gripping my arm with his good hand so tightly I thought he’d break my skin. “We have them on the run! We can kill them all, and they’ll never bother us again!”

I shrugged him off, more in terror than anger. He had said those same words to me over thirty years ago at the Battle of Zurren.

So it was true, what the other knights were saying. Old Hamot had lost his mind.

(The word prompt today was “Muddle.”)

[– 31 Fantasy Characters in 31 Days –]

Rastevar secured the final knot of the rope around the criminal’s ankles. This tiny village was fortunate he had been passing through; when the brutish Karlai warrior had come out of the inn dragging an unconscious woman by the hair, Rastevar was the only person willing to confront the man. All the villagers, men and women, simply kept their distance and watched.

The fight was swift. Despite the large warrior’s strength, he was no match for Rastevar’s prowess and training. Once Rastevar had knocked the warrior out, he tied the oaf up before he could cause anymore harm.

Rastevar stood, pushed strands of his short black hair from his face, and saw a man a few spans in front of him wearing a long, deep-red cloak. A Tharum Vanquisher.

Wait. No.

“Father?”

“What are you waiting for?” the man asked coming closer.

“What do you mean?” Rastevar asked.

“Finish him!” Rastevar’s father yelled.

Rastevar’s lips press tightly together. “I will not.”

“You will.”

“Father, this man—” Rastevar began.

“This man deserves death, and it is your duty to carry out his sentence!”

Rastevar crossed his arms across his chest.

Rastevar’s father shoved his young son away and drew his right hand from under his cloak, revealing a shimmering clawed gauntlet. In one swipe he sliced the large Karlai man’s throat. The victim never woke.

Rastevar’s father knelt by the dead man, muttered something even Rastevar could not hear. Then he stood and turned his head to his son. “Another failed test,” he said.

Rastevar shook his head. “I am not a Vanquisher, and I never will be.”

“Yes, you will,” replied his father.

(The word prompt today was “Test.” Rastevar is a character from my book, By the Light of the Moons)

[– 31 Fantasy Characters in 31 Days –]

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 –]