Standalones TMC


“Hm, hm, hm…yes, that shall go there…” a man was at his desk, moving things around on his website. He was deaf to the outside world…for a bit anyway.

“Sir. …Oh, mister. …AUTHOR!” The scream jolted the man awake and he whirled his chair to face a grey, male, Mobian Hedgehog in a gray suit with a black tube on his arm.

“Ah, Megatron,” greeted the man, the Author. “What can I do for you?”

“May I ask you something on behalf of your characters?” asked Megatron.

“…Sure, what’s up?”

“When are you going to update our stories?”

“I have to update the site, first,” explained the Author. “People have told me that the navigation menu was getting cluttered and too lengthy. So, I pared it down and now have it devoted to pages for my posts. Your part of the site is already done, I just need to work on Arsha’s, Megumi’s, and then your combined story.”

“And how long do you think this update will take?” sighed Megatron as he became impatient. “The Decepticons have one more Chaos Emerald to retrieve.”

“You don’t know if that team will get it.”

“…What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, cool your thrusters, I don’t know when the update will be done. I WILL post this little chat, though.”

“Well, hurry it up. I have a war to win, as does Dr. Borg.” Megatron then stormed off, grumbling all the while. “Honestly, the kid pulls a Doctor Who style regeneration and he becomes much more asinine!”

“…Walking corpse!” the Author muttered to himself once he was sure that Megatron was out of earshot.

Standalones Super Mario Heroes

Super Mario Heroes: Prologue

Another dark day, another dark deed in the country of Darkland. The Koopas continued their drills as if it were any other day. However, after their master had returned from his recent adventure, they went through a period of non-aggression against the Mushroom Kingdom. They were feeling a little…speculative about their master. As they offered multiple theories, their master, the king of Darkland himself, Bowser Koopa, slept. At least, he slept until the alarm clock rang its annoying chime. Bowser punched it off the nightstand and grumbled as he turned in bed. He then sat up and got out of bed, getting a shell out of the closet and climbing into it. He then did his stretches and retreated into his shell and popped out multiple times. After that, he just stood in the middle of the room, groaning to himself. He then stomped to the dining hall and sat at his usual place while his son, Junior, sat next to him. “Morning, Papa!” he called. Bowser just grunted. “Er…Papa?”

“Morning, Junior,” rumbled Bowser.

“Didn’t you sleep at all last night?”

“I slept fine, kiddo, just waking up a little slow today.” Breakfast was served and they ate.

“You know, Papa, me and the Koopalings are almost done with our project! You should see it this afternoon.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just come to the lab when it’s done.”

“…Papa, this isn’t about what happened at Lake Lapcat, is it?”

“Nah, it ain’t that. Your old man’s just got a lot on his mind, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get it all settled! You’re just that awesome, Papa.” Bowser smirked at his son’s enthusiasm.

“Thanks, Junior.” They finished breakfast and Bowser headed to the throne room. Kamek was standing next to the throne as Bowser sat down.

“Your Surliness,” he began, “our first order of the day is that the Cult of Bowser has come to offer tribute! They’re waiting outside the throne room right now!”

“Show them in,” ordered Bowser. The “cult” left a lot to be desired in terms of appearance…and hygiene. Bowser and Kamek developed a twitch.

“Oh, Great Bowser Koopa, Lord of Darkland,” praised the cult leader, “you have allowed us to live under your watchful gaze and for that, we are forever grateful!” The smell ran rampant inside Bowser’s nose. “We offer you a special tribute in…!”

“STOP!” roared Bowser. “Just…just look at what you’re doing! You’re getting your filth all over the floor! Haven’t you guys ever heard of showers?!” The cult leader was taken aback, as if the concept of cleanliness was foreign to him. “I just had the throne room cleaned last night! Out! OUT! GET OOOOUUUT!” The cult quickly left, taking their smell with them. The cleaning staff immediately got to work.

“You didn’t even see their tribute,” observed Kamek, “not that getting rid of them wasn’t a wise decision.”

“Whatever it was, it was probably made of dung anyways,” rumbled Bowser.

“…Fair point, Master.”

After hearing the cases of the day, Bowser headed to the Koopalings’ lab and found them and his son standing by a machine. “Bowser, we did it!” cheered Ludwig Von Koopa. “May I introduce the most epic version of Princess Kidnapping Machinery to date!” The cover came off of a giant Mecha shaped like Mario. “Programmed with all of Mario’s skills, it will finally flatten that plumber as we take Peach!”

“And I care because?” asked Bowser. Junior and the Koopalings goggled at the Koopa King.

“…B-because it would finally give you what you want?” urged Junior. “You know? Having Mama Peach as your queen and ending Mario’s game permanently?”

“Oh, that was the OLD Bowser. This is a NEW Bowser, and he doesn’t really care about a mustachioed, fat, pasta-loving plumber or his hot, royal, pink-wearing, blonde girlfriend. It’s hilarious, really. Look, I tell you kids what, you want to kidnap Peach and destroy Mario? Go ahead. Who cares? I certainly don’t. Not one bit at all.” Bowser left the lab, leaving the Koopalings very confused.

“…Papa,” sighed Junior in sympathy.

Bowser made his way in the office of a psychiatrist, the famous Dr. F. Roid, an old Koopa with glasses and a beard. “So, Lord Bowser,” began Dr. Roid as Bowser laid down on the couch, “tell me what’s been bothering you.”

“Well, you see, it’s like this, Doc,” answered Bowser, “it’s been about 35 years since I first met my nemesis.”

“It’s been that long, My Lord?”

“Yeah. You see; that’s the actual problem. Once he began stopping me frequently, I thought that he’d get older and then Mario…”

“We don’t say his name here. This is a safe place.”

“R-right. Sorry, Doctor. Well, I just assumed, after all those power-ups over the years, he would get a permanent game over! …But he hasn’t even aged, I mean, like, at ALL! He and his green brother just keep jumping around as if they were kids, it looks like he’s going to get between me and Peach FOREVER! I…I just don’t know if I can handle that!”

“Yes, it seems his arrival in this world has affected his natural aging process. It’s quite the conundrum.”

“Yeah, exactly! …What’s a…connonumdum?”

“Conundrum, it’s a fancy word for a highly difficult problem.”

“Thanks, Doc. I just wish there were someone to help me get rid of my problem.” Someone then pounded on Dr. Roid’s door.

“Your Depressedness!” called Kamek. “You have a visitor demanding an audience!”

“Go away!” replied Bowser. “Didn’t you get the memo?! I’m busy with therapy right now! Leave us alone!”

“But, Master, it’s Ganondorf and…!”

“Ganondorf?! What’s he doing here?!” Bowser then stormed out of the office.

“WAIT! WE’RE NOT FINISHED YET!” wailed Dr. Roid.

“Send me the bill!” replied Bowser as he made his way to the throne room. He found Ganondorf Dragmire sitting lazily on the throne. “HEY! THAT’S MY THRONE!”

“And I was hoping for something along the lines of ‘Welcome back, Ganondorf, old friend.’,” snarked Ganondorf.

“We’re NOT friends, especially after the Subspace incident!”

“You wound me, Koopa. In any event, this isn’t a social call. I’ve been in contact with someone who may…help us.”

“If it’s Tabuu again, you work with him yourself!”

“No! No, no, no, it’s someone from your world. I believe he once attacked Sarasaland.”

“What, the runt, Tatanga? What does he want?”

“He’s found something about…Elemental Princesses that hold ultimate power to conquer the universe as we know it.” Bowser’s eyes went wide as the temptation became clear.

“…You have my attention!” An evil grin then appeared on the Koopa King’s face, a grin he had not experienced in some time!

Standalones TTR

A Solstice Song 5

When he got a chance to open his eyes, he saw that it wasn’t a tombstone, but a chair; HIS chair. He looked around to see that he was back in his apartment! Malnar opened her eyes to see the apartment’s ceiling instead of a dark, cemetery sky. “…I’m home?” asked Droka.

“So it would seem,” mused Malnar. Droka then dropped to his knees and clasped his hands in prayer.

“I will keep the Solstice with all of my heart!” he promised again. “I will live in the past, present, and future! The Divine Ones that showed me what those aspects mean shall strive within me! I will not ignore the lessons taught on this journey! The Heights and the Solstice be praised! I swear this on my knees, Calna! On my knees!”

“I don’t think it would do you any good if you tried to make amends on your knees,” joked Malnar, hope for her uncle rising.

“Quite right!” cheered Droka as he got up from the floor. “I must start! But…what day is it? I don’t know how long the Divine Ones brought us on that journey! I don’t know anything! I’m a newborn!” He opened his window and looked outside. A Dwarf boy passed by the apartment building. “Excuse me!” he called. “Young man!” The boy looked up.

“Me, Sir?” he asked.

“Yes, my fine fellow!” confirmed Droka. “What’s today?!”

“It’s…it’s Solstice Morning,” replied the boy.

“It’s still the Solstice!” whispered Droka. Malnar heard that.

“…All in one…well, they ARE the Divine Ones, they can bend time as they wish,” mused Malnar.

“My boy!” called Droka to the Dwarf boy again. “Do you know if the Prize Turkey was sold yet?”

“The one twice my size? No, not yet,” the boy replied. “I should know, my father’s the butcher.”

“Excellent!” cheered Droka. “Don’t go away! I have something for you to do!” The Dwarf boy was confused as Droka disappeared from the window. After a minute, he returned. “Catch!” he called. He tossed down a bag of something and the boy caught it. “Go on, look inside!” urged Droka. The boy shook the bag first and it made a jingling noise. He then opened it and his eyes widened at the amount of Golds in it.

“That’s twice the Prize Turkey’s price!” he called up.

“Tell you father,” directed Droka, “that I’m buying the Prize Turkey! Whatever remains is yours! If you and your father come here with the turkey in five minutes, I’ll refill the bag with the price of the turkey and all of that is yours!” The boy sprinted quickly.

“Where’s the turkey going?” asked Malnar.

“To Twelmek’s, of course!” cheered Droka. “They need a fabulous Solstice dinner!” During the five minutes they waited, Twelmek got dressed and used the mana scraps he had to mend all of his clothes to look nice. The door chime rang. “Right on time!” chuckled Droka. He and Malnar bundled up and headed to the door. The butcher was there with the turkey in hand and his carriage was outside the building. “Excellent turkey!” praised Droka. “How much was it?”

“500 golds, sir,” replied the butcher, his beard barely hiding his confusion.

“Splendid!” answered Droka. He handed 500 to the boy. “As promised!”

“Thank you, sir!” bid the boy.

“So, you DID buy it?” asked the butcher.

“I did, indeed!” confirmed Droka. “I need you to deliver it to 96 Hillside Road, on the eastern edge of town! Make sure it gets there in time for Solstice Dinner! Don’t let them know I bought it for them. It’s an anonymous gift for them.”

“I will, indeed, sir,” promised the butcher as he set the turkey back in the carriage.

“Before you go,” called Droka. He handed 100 Golds to the butcher.

“A tip?” asked the butcher.

“And a Solstice present!” replied Droka.

“Thank you, sir!” praised the butcher as he got into his seat. “Happy Solstice!”

“Happy Solstice!” returned Droka.

“They’re going to love that,” chuckled Malnar. “When will you tell Twelmek?”

“After I give him his long-overdue raise,” replied Droka. “I think five times his usual amount will help his family.”

“It’d certainly get them a bigger house,” agreed Malnar.

“…Have you ever noticed how wonderful the Solstice is?” sighed Droka happily.

“Every time it rolls around,” chuckled Malnar. “You know, the invitation to dinner still stands.”

“…Even after the load of nonsense I pulled yesterday?” asked Droka.

“You’ve changed,” replied Malnar. “You look happier. I would like to help you continue being happy.”

“Well, I’d be a fool for not accepting, wouldn’t I?” chuckled Droka. “This year, I accept.”

“Come on, then!” cheered Malnar. I must say, it was quite the surprise when everyone met Droka. He joined in the fun, taught everyone another game as well as participating in similes, and told them about the journey that made him change his heart.

Twelmek was running, and I do mean RUNNING, to the bank the next day. He was puffing the instant he got into the building and lit his candle before hearing someone clear their throat. “What do you mean by coming in at this time?” grunted Droka in his old manner.

“I’m sorry, sir,” gulped Twelmek. “I didn’t pay enough attention to the time.” Droka then stepped forward and handed him a piece of paper. Twelmek winced and looked at it…only to find that it WASN’T a notice of Termination of Employment, it was a compensation note. “…Sir, I think you gave me the…”

“Long overdue raise you needed to aid your family?” interrupted Droka. “I did, indeed.”

“…Sir?” asked Twelmek.

“A Happy Solstice to you!” cheered Droka. “I will raise your salary and assist your family in all of its struggles! I will see to it that Teegar can walk with no aid and will ensure she has the best possible life! …Well, what are you standing there, gaping for?! Go stoke up the fires and get some warmth in this place!”

“Y…Yes, sir!” stammered Twelmek, wondering if it was a dream. Outside, Malnar had heard the news. Droka DID donate to help the poor, to the same collectors that visited him two days ago, and saw to it that he would donate the same amount of money throughout every time of the months ahead, until his own death. Malnar smiled warmly, her heart made lighter with the knowledge that change was always possible. She walked down the street and did some thinking by herself until she was stopped by Balmo again. She dashed into an alley to talk to her and a Flame Elf woman that looked familiar.

“Your uncle is true to his word,” chuckled Balmo. “He now understands how to keep the Solstice in his heart.”

“And to Teegar, who will NOT die,” continued the woman as she pointed to herself, revealing herself to be an older Teegar from the future with both of her legs working, “gets the operation needed to save her. Arsha’s CMO did that and your future with all of your lovers is safe.”

“Go Marshii!” cheered Malnar. “May all of divinity bless us on this and every day!”

“We certainly will,” agreed Balmo. “Farewell, Malnar Emboramii!” She and Teegar’s new future faded.

“A Happy Solstice,” called Malnar to the heavens, “and a happy new year!”

Standalones TTR

A Solstice Song 4

“You…you then wish to show us the future?” gulped Droka.

“I do,” answered Balmo. She then pointed. As if by some abrupt change, the scene behind Malnar and Droka was now that of the Stock Exchange. A quartet of people were talking, a plump Centaur woman, a beardless Dwarf man, a Halfling man that was small for his people’s average height, and the Halfling’s wife of average Halfling height.

“All I can say is,” remarked the Centaur woman, “I don’t know how. All I know is he’s dead.”

“Do you know when he died?” asked the smaller Halfling.

“Last night, I think,” mused the Centaur woman.

“Is there going to be a funeral?” asked the Halfling’s wife.

“A cheap one, I’ll be bound,” sighed the Dwarf. “Any mourners?”

“I doubt it,” muttered the Centaur woman. “His only friend died before him, his family’s gone, he’s got no one.”

“I’ll go if there’s food,” remarked the Halfling. “You know us Halflings, we MUST be fed.” That earned a laugh from everyone in the group. The observers, on the other hand, didn’t laugh.

“Who were those people talking so rudely about?!” demanded Droka.

“You will understand soon enough,” replied Balmo as the scene changed again. It was a dingy room with items all strewn around. A wicked looking Elf woman dumped her bag onto the floor with a fat human pawing through it.

“His bedsheets?!” he cackled. “I hope he didn’t die of anything catching! Oh, and is this his shirt?!”

“Got them all washed,” croaked the Elf woman. “Don’t want any disease on my conscience. Besides, they was gonna bury him in it! If he was gonna have them, why weren’t he more natural?”

“Can’t argue there!” laughed the man.

“More of them?!” protested Droka. “Balmo, this is absurd! Let me see some tenderness connected with this death!”

“As you wish,” whispered Balmo. The scene change to an older-looking Twelmek.

“Wh…why does he show signs of age?” asked Droka.

“Listen,” directed Balmo.

“My daughter,” whimpered Twelmek as he knelt in prayer. “My precious daughter…” He was kneeling by a crutch carefully preserved.

“…I see,” mused Droka.

“Not yet,” countered Balmo as the scene changed to a cemetery. She pointed at one of the headstones. Droka guessed whose name was on it.

“Oh no,” he sarcastically wailed, “I’m going to die!” He then dropped the act and whirled on Balmo. “This whole thing is a waste of my time!” he bellowed. “First, Freemal has me take a trip through my past! You DO realize that the past makes up who I am, right?! What’s the point of reliving it if I already remember it?! Then, Mordek shows me the present! Oh, wow! It’s like I’m living in it right now! Now, we have you, Balmo, the future? And what IS the future, I’m getting a headstone. Of course, I am! I’m going to die, Malnar’s going to die, her lovers are going to die, Orbak’s going to die, WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! …We’re all going to die and leave when it’s too early, so what’s the point of showing me my headstone?!”

“It IS your headstone, yes,” mused Balmo, “but what about the spirits?”

“…Spirits?” asked Droka.

“WHOA!” yelped Malnar. Droka turned and gasped in disbelief. Chained ghosts appeared before them and the faces were all known to him. Malnar, Orbak, Elmpam, Twelmek, and his own ghost, they were all chained.

“Wait a minute!” protested Droka. “I thought I was the only one risking the chains!”

“With you dying,” explained Malnar’s future ghost, “it changed us all. I never married my other lovers, Dad became tyrannical, Mom left him, Twelmek died of depression, and we are ALL chained to YOU! All because you never moved on from your sister’s death!”

“No!” begged Droka. He then turned to the living Malnar and Balmo. “No, please, not them! Hear me! I’m the only one that must be chained! Please! Why show me this ghastly future?! And why tell me this is because I see no logic in moving on from her death?! Do you have ANY idea what it was like?! Would you say goodbye?! COULD YOU?! How can you say goodbye…” at that moment, he was crying, “when someone is living life and not remembering her?!”

“But Daddy DOES remember her!” replied Malnar. “THAT’S why he’s living life! He’s doing it her name! He added Mother’s name to the list of living in people’s name when she died! We’re asking YOU to move on!”

“How can you ask me that?!” wailed Droka as spectral chains wrapped themselves around him. “WHEN MY FAMILY LEFT…it was like losing her all over again!”

“Uncle Droka,” whispered Malnar as she knelt down to see eye to eye with him, “none of us are your sister. Money is not your sister. No one and no THING can replace her. There IS something capable of lasting a lot longer than money. Live in her name and memory.”

“How can you even ask that with your mother dead?” asked Droka. “How can you move on?!”

“It’s a process,” replied Malnar. “Uncle Droka, this is where you are right now. Where do you WANT to be? Where do you NEED to be?” Droka then looked back and saw the ghosts.

“Balmo, are these the shadows of the things that WILL happen or the things that MAY happen?” he finally asked.

“That is up to you,” replied Balmo.

“…Where is my sister’s grave?” inquired Droka. He looked back to see Balmo pointing to a headstone. Droka made his way to it and wiped off excess snow from the stone to read Telna Emboramii, the sister of King Orbak and Baron Droka. “Telna, I have been a foolish man after you died,” he confessed. “Through it, I am chaining our family to selfishness. Well, no longer! I don’t ask for forgiveness, only that I make things right and free our family! I will keep the Solstice with all of my heart! I will live in the past, present, and future! The Divine Ones that showed me what those aspects mean shall strive within me! I WILL NOT IGNORE THE LESSONS TAUGHT ON THIS JOURNEY!” He then hugged the tombstone and cried, his eyes shutting. Malnar shut her eyes and cast her head upward, silently asking the Divine Ones to grant him the chance to change and promising that he would take it.

Standalones TTR

A Solstice Song 3

An hour had passed as Malnar was about to nod off. Her arrival to Dreamland was interrupted by footsteps. She got up from her seat to see Droka getting something from the cabinet. “Droka?” she asked. Droka jumped before assuring himself it was Malnar.

“After that nightmare,” he muttered, “I need something to calm my nerves.”

“LOOK UPON ME!” called a jolly voice, spooking both Malnar and Droka. A fat, jolly looking man in red was in the room. “I do beg your pardon,” laughed the man. “Did I startle you?”

“No, I just like to yelp in surprise all the time! Sheesh!” snapped Droka.

“Mordek?” asked Malnar.

“I am, indeed, Mordek!” replied the fat man. “One of the five Divine Ones that watch over the element of fire!”

“Are you the next guide?” asked Droka.

“That I am!” cheered Mordek. “I’m here to show you how the Solstice is celebrated by ALL walks of life! Come!” The scene melted away to reveal the Ruling Castle, the seat of Power in the Under-realm and Orbak’s home.

“What the?” muttered Droka.

“Okay, why are we back home?” asked Malnar. They heard footsteps approaching the castle gates. They whirled around to see a second Malnar approaching as she blew into her hands, then rubbed them. She then rang the buzzer.

“May I help?” asked an elderly gentleman’s voice.

“It’s me, Dweemar,” replied the second Malnar.

“Come on in, Your Highness,” bid Dweemar. “Your parents are eagerly awaiting you. I trust you had a pleasant night at your uncle’s?”

“That man lives in a practical ice box!” complained the second Malnar. Droka turned to the first and scowled.

“Well, you do!” she protested as everyone followed the second Malnar in.

“Malnar!” yipped a voice. The second Malnar was then wrapped in five pairs of arms all giving a simultaneous embrace. A white, fuzzy muzzle rubbed itself on the second Malnar’s face.

“Hey, Mama,” chuckled the second Malnar. The hugger, Elmpam Emboramii, stepped back and rubbed a pair of hands down the second Malnar’s face.

“Good grief, you’re frozen!” she observed. “The walk must have been biting cold!”

“So was my uncle’s apartment,” replied the second Malnar. “That man never stokes his fire! And his attitude’s no better! Do you know what he said to a pair of donation collectors?”

“He tossed them out without leaving a tin?” called a voice. Orbak stepped into the foyer to join his wife and daughter.

“He tossed them out without leaving a tin! Exactly!” confirmed the second Malnar. “I gave them twice my usual donation sum to cover for the verbal abuse they suffered! Leaving people to feel cold and miserable on the Solstice! What kind of man is he?!”

“A rather stingy one,” remarked Orbak. “I take it he refused to dine with us?”

“He said he’d see me in the Depths before that happens,” replied the second Malnar.

“Well, there ARE people who accepted and are more cordial than my brother,” mused Orbak. “I believe they’re…right there.” He pointed to a door with five people Malnar loved very much.

“LARDETH! GORFANTH! ARSHA! FORESNA! FALNII!” cheered the second Malnar happily. She rushed towards her future spouses and joined in the embrace. “Lardeth, Arsha, how did you finagle leave time?” asked the second Malnar.

“After the Borsootha affair,” replied Arsha, “Rokalla managed to convince Realmfleet that we needed a break.”

“So, we chose the Solstice to celebrate with you,” continued Lardeth.

“Well, it’s great to see you again!” cheered the second Malnar. She turned to her parents. “Is the ballroom ready?”

“Ready and eager for our feet and voices!” declared Orbak. “Come! We have a celebration to commence!” The scene changed to the ballroom where a violinist played and everyone gathered in a circle. Elmpam had a small handkerchief in her hand and danced as if she were hiding behind it while everyone clapped in tempo of the violin. While she danced and twirled clockwise, everyone else danced counterclockwise. Elmpam kept twirling until she danced towards her husband and danced with him before passing the handkerchief to him and taking his place in the circle. This time, Orbak was dancing as if he were hiding behind the handkerchief while everyone else circled him. He then danced towards one of Malnar’s sisters, Twentha, and she took his place in the middle. This went on and on until everyone had a turn. Soon, everyone was clapping as the violinist finished and bowed.

“I played that game when I was a child,” mused Droka.

“You ARE missing out on a great deal,” replied Mordek.

“Let’s see, how about a game of Similes?” suggested Foresna.

“Similes?” asked Lardeth. “What’s that?”

“One person has to start a simile,” explained Foresna, “and the person that is chosen by the speaker has to complete it. If they fail to do so, then they’re out. Allow me to demonstrate. Arsha, sly as…”

“Sly as a fox!” finished Arsha.

“And she’s safe,” continued Foresna.

“How will we know when we’re out?” asked the second Malnar.

“The person who’s out is the one sitting down,” declared Orbak. “Do you all mind if I start?”

“Be our guest, Your Majesty,” replied Foresna. Orbak then turned to Lardeth.

“Lardeth, proud as…” he proclaimed.

“A peacock,” finished Lardeth.

“Elmpam, tight as…” began Orbak.

“Your brother,” snarked Elmpam. That got a laugh from everyone.

“Oh, ha ha,” grumbled Droka.

“Not the simile I was thinking of,” answered Orbak. “Sorry, sweetie, but you need to sit.”

“Yeah, tell an Inu to sit,” Elmpam comedically grumbled. She had an exaggerated pout as she sat down.

“I believe that is enough for now,” mused Mordek. “Come, we must go to Delga’s castle.” The scene faded and changed into the main courtyard where Delga, Larbuu, and their respective harem partners cuddling on a bench.

“I’m afraid it’s true,” sighed Enfanti, “Dad can’t come to our Solstice bash.”

“That’s a pity,” sympathized Delga. “Then the mine’s atmosphere is taking its toll on his health too much.”

“Can’t we send help him?” asked Dorbu.

“Do you have 90,000 golds to cure him?” asked Enfanti.

“90,000?!” yelped Larbuu. “That’s robbery! And at the Solstice too!”

“So, the fact remains, your father won’t be joining us,” sighed Delga. “A pity. We haven’t seen him for months.”

“What is her father’s name?” asked Droka.

“Alnam Glarosa, I believe,” replied Malnar. Droka then went quiet. “…Refused a loan in his name?” she guessed.

“I had…no idea,” muttered Droka. The scene then changed again to a small, two story house with only one room for the entire family. It was a family of Flame Elves. A mother was cooking as her children were helping. “Who in the…?” quizzed Droka.

“Twelmek’s family, I believe,” mused Malnar.

“Come on, Dweena,” called the mother to the eldest daughter. “Come set the table.”

“Yes, Mother,” replied Dweena.

“Hey! Dad’s home!” called one of the twin boys.

“And Teegar, too!” cheered the other.

“Let them in!” directed the mother. The twins opened the door to let Twelmek and a young girl in. The girl was on Twelmek’s shoulder and had a crutch in her hand. Both cheered when they saw their family.

“Happy Solstice!” cheered Twelmek. He set the girl, Teegar, down and she was helped to the table. A goose was set in the middle of the table and drinks were poured for everyone.

“A rather small goose for two adults, an adolescent, and three children,” muttered Droka.

“That’s probably all he can afford,” replied Malnar. Twelmek then raised his glass.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” he called. “To Droka, the founder of this banquet.”

“Founder of the banquet, my ears!” snapped his wife as her ears moved so the flat tops were level with the floor. “I’ll tell you what, I’d send him a piece of my mind to feast on!”

“Gleemar, it’s the day of the Solstice,” replied Twelmek.

“And, from what you’ve personally said,” continued his wife, “he won’t have anything to do with it!”

“Mama, isn’t the Solstice a time for forgiveness?” asked Teegar. The mother drew in a breath, knowing her crippled daughter was right.

“I’ll do it for your sake,” she sighed, “your siblings’ sake, your father’s sake, and the day’s sake, but not for his.” She raised her glass. “A Happy Solstice to Baron Droka Emboramii. May he be very happy, wherever he is.”

“Baron Droka,” answered everyone before they took a sip.

“…I suppose I deserve that,” sighed Droka.

“Hm?” asked Malnar.

“Nothing,” dismissed Droka. “…Mordek, tell me about the young Teegar. How full will her life be?” Mordek winced before answering.

“I see an empty place at the table and a crutch carefully preserved,” he sighed.

“…A pity,” grunted Droka.

“Pity?” hissed Malnar. “You still believe what you said earlier?! How she should hurry up and die because she’s not productive enough?! I would advise you to hold your tongue until you know what the unproductive are and where it lives.”

“Man, if man you are,” continued Mordek, “you will find that, as it stands now, you are worth less in our eyes than MILLIONS like that poor man’s child, even BILLIONS worse off than her! Believe it or not, she is one of the lucky poor in having a roof over her head! Come!” The scene abruptly changed to a village of poor people. This was nothing more than a collection of raggedy tents with families huddled around small fires.

“What in the…?!” spluttered Droka. “Why are we in the bad part of town?!”

“This is one of the poor villages,” explained Malnar. “You know, one of the places where you said people badly off should go?”

“But…but I thought they were better constructed than this!” protested Droka. “I thought there would be, you know, actual buildings!”

“They can’t afford the upkeep of such buildings,” answered Mordek. Droka’s eyes were then grabbed by something beneath his robes.

“Lord Mordek, what’s that behind the robes? Is it yours?” asked Droka.

“No, THEY belong to all of our children, no matter the species,” corrected Mordek. He pulled them back to reveal a boy hissing and spitting with fingernails broken into claws and a girl with the telltale sagging stomach. “I present to you Young Master Ignorance and Young Miss Want,” introduced Mordek. “They desire warmth of any kind, whether it be from an actual fire or the flames of kindness, hence why they cling to me!”

“Don’t they have ANY help?!” wailed Droka.

“Are the shelters still in operation?” asked Malnar coldly.

“Why are you using my own words against me?!” snarled Droka.

“Because you’ll find that your words and actions,” hissed Malnar, “are more deadly that ANY weapon that can be constructed! Lord Mordek, I think we’ve…Mordek? Lord Mordek?!”

“He’s off on an errand,” whispered a voice. A woman in black robes then approached them. There was an uneasy air around everyone.

“L…Lady….Lady Balmo?” gulped Malnar.

“I am,” answered the Divine One, one of the five that watch over death.

Standalones TTR

A Solstice Song 2

Malnar was trying to keep herself awake, her eyes shutting and her head drooping forward while she sat, then snapping back and forcing her eyes open. Droka never bothered staying awake. He was fast asleep. Malnar’s head snapped back and her eyes opened again…and were never burdened by sleep again as a figure stood in the light it generated. This light felt otherworldly, and Malnar knew the figure as if she had had continual contact with it. “…Freemal?” she gulped.

“Greetings, young Malnar,” replied Freemal, one of the five Divine Ones that look after the element of earth. Her green hand then touched the curtain of Droka’s bed and pulled it back.

“WHO IN THE DEPTHS?!” snapped Droka as he woke up. “MALNAR, TURN THAT LIGHT DOWN!”

“You cannot turn my light down so easily,” interjected Freemal. Droka then got a good look and gasped.

“Are…are you the guide Calna told me would come?” he gulped.

“I am,” replied Freemal.

“H…How are you here to guide me?” whimpered Droka.

“To help you remember your past,” replied Freemal.

“…That’s all?” remarked Droka. “A trip down memory lane?”

“Come, we must see what began your current view of the world,” directed Freemal. The scene changed into what looked to be outside a hospital room. Malnar gasped when she saw herself as a child sitting on the waiting bench.

“Did…did you just…” she spluttered at Freemal.

“We are but shadows,” assured Freemal. “Do either of you remember this day?”

“This is when my sister Twanmee was born!” cheered Malnar. “Winter Solstice Eve! I was so happy at having another sister to play with. This was just a few years before Mama died and Daddy remarried.” A younger Orbak came out of the hospital room.

“Malnar, want to see your sister?” he asked the child Malnar.

“Yes, please!” cheered young Malnar. Then, her face went pensive. “Daddy, why isn’t Uncle Droka here?”

“He…er…he’s a very…troubled man,” replied the young Orbak.

“I always found that to be an odd answer,” mused the present-day Malnar.

“Then let me clarify,” grunted Droka. “While your youngest sister was born, I was outside the cemetery, reminding myself that money is longer lasting than love, life, or holidays.”

“Why?” asked Malnar.

“If it was as ephemeral as life,” answered Droka, “money wouldn’t be necessary. Unfortunately, it lasted longer than my sister.”

“…Oh,” realized Malnar.

“My sister was the only light in my dark world,” continued Droka. “Not even my wife or son could jolly me out of it. I soon learned that money does not save, it only exists and we need to keep track of it for fear of losing our path.”

“That didn’t serve your marriage well, did it?” mused Freemal.

“Don’t you dare!” hissed Droka. “Don’t you dare show that Solstice!” The scene changed into an old house as a Succubus woman sat down, looking sad. A younger Droka then entered the house.

“It was quite a day,” he muttered. “The Troondars tried to sue me for price gouging. They never had a case; the prices of houses are correct. It’s their own fault that they couldn’t pay on time.”

“And yet, you cannot pay your debt,” muttered the Succubus.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Young Droka.

“You’re barely here,” explained the Succubus.

“Well, I have to brave society and the idiots invading it to avoid poverty for us,” answered Young Droka.

“When I married you,” countered the Succubus, “I thought you were the bravest man alive!”

“Have I done anything cowardly?” quizzed Young Droka.

“Your son feels no attachment to you!” snapped the Succubus. “You’ve become obsessed with gain that no other attachments matter to you, not even your family! Can you look me in the eye and say it wouldn’t matter if we were rich or poor?”

“…It would be preferable for us all to be wealthy,” muttered Young Droka.

“No! Don’t say that!” hissed the present day Droka.

“Oh, what an answer!” wailed the Succubus. “That proves it! The man I loved died with his sister and I’m living with the shell of his former self! Well, no longer! I see no reason to continue calling myself your wife!” She stormed out of the manor and out of Young Droka’s life.

“…You were married!” hissed Malnar. “You had a family and let it slip away!”

“His loss,” remarked Freemal. “Lord Twandek Larkentha’s gain.”

“Twandek? Delga’s cousin?” quizzed Malnar.

“The same,” replied Freemal. “Let us observe the Solstice of 10 years ago, the day Calna died.” The scene changed to Frigandor as the same Succubus was walking with a Frostik man, arm in arm as a Human/Incubus boy laughed and played with a Frostik/Succubus girl. There was a smile on all their faces. The Succubus then had her attention diverted for a bit.

“Twendrii, Wilcam, not so far,” she called, kindly but firmly. The children listened

“Little scamps,” chuckled the Frostik, Twandek. He then remembered something. “My sweet, I passed by a place of business run by an acquaintance of yours during my stay in the Belsnath Citadel.”

“Who?” asked the Succubus.

“Guess,” replied Twandek. The Succubus thought long and hard.

“I can’t come up with an answer,” she giggled. “What’s the place of business?”

“Droka and Calna’s,” revealed Twandek. The Succubus’ smile faded. “I know Droka’s name causes you grief, but I thought I’d tell you that his partner, Calna, was near enough to say that his soul was about to forsake his corporeal body. When he dies, Droka will be without a friend.”

“His money has been a friend to him for some time,” muttered the Succubus. “Some would say, too close of a friend. Poor Droka, to be alone with no physical companion.”

“Spare me your pity!” snapped Droka. “I have no need of it! As for you, Freemal, get out of my sight! Stop tormenting me like this! I don’t need a trip down memory lane to remind myself of how I became who I am! GO AWAY!”

“I’ll leave,” replied Freemal. “I must inform you, though, everyone needs a trip to remind themselves of what made them the way they are.” As she vanished, so, too, did the scene until Malnar and Droka were back in the apartment.

“Just uninterrupted rest,” pleaded Droka. “That’s all I need right now.” He then retired to his bed.

“…Pity is all you will get from me,” sighed Malnar once she was assured Droka was asleep.

Standalones TTR

A Solstice Song 1

The Winter Solstice had arrived! During this frigid time of year, good cheer was felt by all beings across the Realms. Lights were lit to show that happiness still burned brightly during such a cold time. At least…in most buildings. Over in a Baron’s place of business, said Baron was busy with his books and ledgers. He heard a slight scrape. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Mr. Twelmek?” snarled the Baron.

“Th…the fire, Lord Droka…it’s dying,” explained the Flame Elf Clerk, Twelmek.

“Come here,” snapped the Baron, Droka. Twelmek approached Droka’s desk. “What’s this draping over my body?”

“…A coat,” replied Twelmek. A rather cheaply made coat, if one could observe it, almost like Twelmek’s own coat.

“And under it?” asked Droka.

“A shirt,” answered Twelmek.

“And what surrounds my legs?” inquired Droka.

“Pants,” replied Twelmek.

“They’re clothes,” grumbled Droka. “Our respective species, Human and Elf alike, had the intelligence to protect us from the cold. If I see you with that coal shovel in your hand, it might be necessary for you to prepare your resume.”

“Yes, my Lord,” gulped Twelmek. He then returned to his seat and was about to sit down only to hear a knock on the door.

“…Well? Let them in!” snapped Droka. Twelmek opened the door to allow Malnar to come in!

“Happy Solstice, Your Highness!” greeted Twelmek.

“Oh no,” groaned Droka.

“Happy Solstice, Mr. Twelmek!” returned Malnar as she lowered her hood to reveal her glowing face, her cheeks reddened by walking briskly in the cold weather. She then saw Droka. “Happy Solstice, Uncle Droka!”

“Load of nonsense,” rumbled Droka.

“Something not balancing right?” asked Malnar in a slightly teasing tone.

“Not my ledgers, the whole holiday!” snapped Droka.

“…The Winter Solstice? A load of nonsense?” repeated Malnar. “That’s a joke, I trust?”

“I can’t afford to joke about it!” snarled Droka. “‘Happy Solstice’, to the Depths with the whole thing! All the Winter Solstice represents is racking up credit and being unable to pay it off the next year! If I had my way, any dimwit with ‘Happy Solstice’ in their head would have their heart burst upon even thinking it!” Someone rang the doorbell. “Oh, what now?!” moaned Droka. Twelmek had let an Inu male and a Dwarf female come in.

“Droka and Calna’s, I believe,” mused the Dwarf woman. “Have we the pleasure of talking to Mr. Droka or Mr. Calna?”

“Mr. Calna died ten years ago,” grunted Droka, “on this very day.”

“Then it is a pleasure to see you, Mr. Droka,” greeted the Inu man as he handed a business card to Droka. He turned the card over, then rolled his eyes as he handed his own business card to them. “At this time of year,” began the Inu man, “it is noted that many are in need of basic necessities.”

“So, those of us with the money and resources to do so,” continued the Dwarf woman, “should do their part in easing the suffering of those that cannot afford a roof over their heads.”

“I’m hearing a pair of patriots,” sighed Malnar happily. At that moment, they noticed her.

“Your Highness, I do beg your pardon!” gulped the Inu man as both bowed.

“Please, get up,” directed Malnar. “Save the bowing for a Royal Audience. I should bow to you two if you’re looking to help the poor.”

“Hold on, aren’t there villages?” asked Droka.

“…Plenty of them,” replied the Dwarf woman.

“And the shelters, are they still in operation?” quizzed Droka.

“They are, but the conditions are rather…lacking,” answered the Inu man.

“Then Poor Law is in full force?” continued Droka.

“Very busy at this time of year,” remarked the Dwarf woman.

“Oh,” sighed Droka in relief. “For a second there, I thought something had stopped them in their useful duty. I’m glad to hear things are going well.”

“Not so well for the poor,” corrected the Dwarf woman. “As my partner mentioned, the conditions are rather subpar to keep them safe and happy. Some of us are trying to raise a fund to buy them food and shelter, more STABLE shelter. What can we put you down for?”

“…Let’s see, zero golds,” mused Droka, “zero silvers, zero bronzes, zero coppers, and zero tins.”

“…Ah, you want this to be an anonymous donation,” guessed the Inu man.

“I want you idiots to leave me alone!” barked Droka. Their faces showed confusion. “You asked me what I wanted, so that’s my answer! …By the Ones, must I explain it in full detail?! I already pay enough by giving to the shelters and making sure the Poor Law has the necessary funds to keep it going and to keep the poor useful! They must make use of it!”

“Many CAN’T make use of it!” protested the Dwarf woman.

“And that same number would rather die!” supplied the Inu man.

“Then tell them to hurry up and do so,” snapped Droka. “The rest of us that want to be productive would get along better without the poor hanging on our sleeves! The door is right behind you, make use of it! Good day, you two!”

“Why, you heartless…!” snarled the Inu man.

“Sir, Madam, could you wait outside?” asked Malnar. “We can discuss my donation when I’ve finished up here.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” obliged the Dwarf woman. The two left the bank and left Malnar to confront her father’s brother.

“Uncle Droka, that was…!” she hissed.

“Malnar, my niece,” interrupted Droka, “keep the Solstice how you like and let me keep it how I like.”

“No one keeps the Solstice!” argued Malnar.

“Let me leave it be then!” snapped Droka. “It never does ANYONE good!”

“Our spirits are lighter!” argued Malnar.

“I supposed that’s why your father remarried,” muttered Droka, “to make his spirit lighter.”

“He remarried because he loves Ma!” protested Malnar.

“Loves her!” grunted Droka.

“You and I both know that love is a powerful force!” argued Malnar.

“It gets in the way of your goals,” countered Droka.

“I think you’ll find,” refuted Malnar, “that it didn’t get in the way of Daddy’s goals. Why not have dinner with us tomorrow and see?”

“I’ll see you in the Depths before that happens,” snarled Droka.

“…I’m not asking much,” urged Malnar. “I only want you to be a part of family life. Why can’t you and Daddy be friends?”

“You’re wasting both of our time with your mewling!” snapped Droka. He then looked at his watch. “Oh, Sweet Ones! It’s closing time! Twelmek! Close up the bank!” Twelmek couldn’t clean up his workstation faster. “I suppose you want the whole day tomorrow?” grunted Droka.

“If possible and convenient,” confirmed Twelmek.

“It’s possible, yes,” sighed Droka. “But convenient? No, and neither is it fair. If I were to dock your pay for it, you’d strike, wouldn’t you?” Twelmek gulped. “But you don’t see the logic in me striking for paying a full day’s wages for no work.”

“It’s only once a year,” observed Twelmek.

“And it’s still a day where a person’s pocket is picked,” grumbled Droka. “Still, you may have the whole day off. Be here ready to open the day after!”

“Yes, my Lord!” promised Twelmek. All three had hurried out. Twelmek made a dash for his house while Droka stormed towards his apartment, Malnar hot on his heels in the snow.

“Don’t you have a home to get to?” snapped Droka.

“Not until I pick your brain for a while,” replied Malnar. “I want to know what makes you so cold.”

“Then you’re in for a long night of never finding out,” grunted Droka as he continued on his way. They arrived at his dingy apartment and he pulled out his key.

“It looks like you did SOME spending for elaborate ornamentation,” remarked Malnar as she pointed to the knocker.

“What are you talking about? I never…!” Droka then yelped in surprise. The knocker had a Troll’s face on it instead of a lion’s. “C…Calna?” gulped Droka. “No, impossible!” The face faded and returned to being a knocker. “…No, the stresses of the day,” dismissed Droka as he and Malnar entered the apartment building. They climbed the stairs and went down the hall to his apartment. He unlocked the door, found a small fire and his meal of soup, and sat down by the fireplace to take in soup. “There’s some food in the cabinet if you must have it,” grunted Droka to Malnar.

“I’m more freezing than hungry,” shivered Malnar. “Can’t you make the fire any stronger?!”

“Fire fuel is too expensive,” snapped Droka. “Now, if you would REALLY insist on picking my brain, perhaps…” he was interrupted by a bell ringing. “Malnar, some quiet, please,” grumbled Droka.

“That’s not me!” gulped Malnar. The door then opened.

“I said, stop it!” demanded Droka.

“Uncle Droka, I’m not doing this!” yelped Malnar. She then froze at hearing the sound of chains being dragged across the floor. After five seconds had passed, a Troll man materialized partly, still transparent and looking more like stone than a living Troll should. The Troll was bound in many fathoms of chains made of cash boxes, keys, and bank books. Droka yelled and grabbed the poker, swinging wildly through the Troll until the Troll stopped the last swing.

“Take it easy, Drokky,” advised the Troll. “I’d rather you not risk a heart attack, not until I’ve received proof that you heard what I needed to say.” The Troll then saw Malnar. “Good Evening, Your Highness. Happy Solstice.”

“H…Happy Solstice,” replied Malnar weakly.

“My word!” breathed Droka. “You…you’re…”

“Calna Drelmek,” finished the Troll, “your old business partner and your best friend.”

“But…but you’re…dead!” gulped Droka.

“A chained ghost!” gasped Malnar. “I thought such ghosts never show themselves!”

“Not usually,” replied Calna’s ghost. He then turned to Droka as he was shaking his head. “What’s the matter, don’t believe in ghosts?”

“Not in YOUR ghost, no!” hissed Droka as he returned to his soup.

“Can’t you see me? Hear me?” asked Calna. His spectral hand then placed itself onto Droka’s shoulder. “Feel me?” Droka shivered at the sudden decrease in temperature on his shoulder.

“You’re probably something I ate!” snapped Droka.

“Then I must have eaten the same something,” mused Malnar.

“Exactly,” declared Droka. “Any minute now, everything will return to normal! This is all a load of nonsense!”

“YOUR VERY ATTITUDE IS A LOAD OF NONSENSE!” roared Calna’s ghost. Droka cried out in terror.

“Please!” wailed Droka, his stony face displaying abject terror. “Have pity on an old man!”

“Droka Emboramii, do you believe in me now?!” demanded Calna.

“YES! YES, I DO!” replied Droka. “But…but Malnar is right! Ghosts that are chained are never seen unless in extreme circumstances! Why do you make an appearance now?!”

“To help you escape my fate!” explained Calna. “Every spirit that walks the earth has to travel and go on a journey of change. Beings like Malnar take that chance so they could learn from other cultures to help assist in that change. She is comfortable with learning new things. As long as she stays the course, then her soul will be free forever when she dies! Do you believe the Depths of the After-realm are torture? No, at least you abandon hope and are comfortable being declared wretched! They do not know the torture of being shown what their actions have caused in the mortal realm! I am condemned to such a fate, trying to lighten my burden by helping those more wretched than me, but never being able to do so! Constantly burdened by my chains of sin!” He held out a length of the chain wound about him to explain.

“You mean, that chain represents whatever sin you’ve committed?” asked Droka.

“It represents a multitude of my sins!” wailed Calna. “No rest, no peace, no way to help those less fortunate than me!”

“…Calna, I can’t understand why you are chained in the first place!” protested Droka. “All your life, you were excellent in banking!”

“And never turned my eye towards the consequences of my ruthless endeavors!” urged Calna. “I never realized until it was too late how unfair I was being to those less fortunate than me!”

“…Is that what this is about?!” snapped Droka, his usual demeanor returning. “Some spiel about changing your ways?!”

“I’m warning you, right now,” insisted Calna, “don’t waste your life as I did!”

“Waste?!” protested Droka. “How can you say that?! You were a legend in the banking business!”

“That was not my business!” wailed Calna. “The affairs of other people were supposed to be my business! The good of society was my business! Charity, mercy, kindness, all that good stuff, THAT was my business! Our trade is nothing but peanuts compared to our true business! Listen to me and listen well, Droka, my time is almost up! I came here tonight after 10 years of failed attempts to reach you to tell you that you have a chance of breaking your chain! There will be three guides coming for you! Listen to them carefully! Expect the first guide at 1:00 tonight!”

“Can’t they all come and we can get this over with?” asked Droka.

“Expect the second guide,” continued Calna, “on the following hour, and the third the hour after that. Pray that you never see me again!” The chain, as if strings on a puppet, dragged Calna through the window. His wailing joined with those around him, chained ghosts like himself, weighed down by the pursuit of material gain.

“…Well, this is a turn,” mused Malnar. “So, who would be your guide?” mused Malnar.

“…A load of nonsense,” grumbled Droka.

Standalones TMC

Transformers: Mobian Chronicles: Thankful Wins

A giant, red robot with a blue helmet and antennae was at a firing range, keeping his skills up to scratch. Even after 20 years of peace, he still felt as though there was something out there waiting to shatter it. Whether it was his own guilt at imprisoning his brother or some angry god who wanted to see the Great Experiment reach its conclusion, he didn’t know. His thoughts were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. He turned and looked down to see a human standing there. The human was male, had a black ponytail, and dressed in a shirt and tie. “Green Dalek, correct?” rumbled the robot in his new deep voice.

“And you’re a version of my childhood hero, Optimus Prime” replied the human, Green Dalek.

“…You read as human, not Dalek,” muttered the robot, Optimus.

“Back in the early days of the internet, Doctor Who was still an obscure thing. I call myself the Green Dalek specifically because green’s my favorite color.”

“That WOULD give a human some needed anonymity back in the early days.”

“What about you? Where I’m from, your story isn’t finished yet.”

“That will be for another day.”

“True, don’t want any spoilers.”

“So, Green Dalek, how do you want our bout to proceed?”

“Well, we’ve both got the voices for it. Whoever can say the darkest bit of dialogue in the deepest voice possible without choking out is the winner.”

“And our battlefield?”

“I’ve asked a former contestant if we could use their home as the battleground.”

“Which one?”

“Vicky, Arsha’s first opponent.”

“Ah, so she’s granted us permission to use her home.”

“The old circus tent, like her last fight.”

“Very well.”

“The challenge has been set, the terms have been agreed upon, and the chance of victory is agreeable for both sides,” called a woman’s voice. “All five of the Founding Chizaran Princesses will be judging. Tomorrow afternoon, your fight begins! Prepare and make ready! Good luck!”

“See you tomorrow, Prime,” bid Green Dalek. “Till all are one!” He vanished in green light.

“Till all are one,” returned Optimus.

The day had arrived and both human and Autobot arrived in the old, abandoned circus tent. Standing between them, being filmed by a floating camera, were five women in ballgowns, each woman dressed in either pink, green, red, blue, or purple. They then began their announcement.

“I am Rojenthi, the Red Princess of Chizara, and the war-time leader.”

“I am Azuliterii, the Blue Princess of Chizara, and the technological leader.”

“I am Rosadera, the Pink Princess of Chizara, and the peace-time leader.”

“I am Verdutha, the Green Princess of Chizara, and the environmental leader.”

“And I am Moradelia, the Purple Princess of Chizara, and the history leader.”

“This is it, ladies and gentlemen!” cheered Rojenthi. “The final round of the 600,017th Verse Vs. Verse Rumble Royale! With this round, we’ll determine who controls First Place prize, the Mirror of Reality!”

“Representing T-R-4-N-5-F-0-R-M-3-R-5-M-0-8-1-4-N-C-H-R-0-N-1-C-L-3-5, we have Optimus Prime! Representing Universe 7-3-4-9-7-8-4, we have Green Dalek!” introduced Azuliterii. “Both are currently in W-4-N-D-3-R-L-U-5-T, graciously offered by a combatant, Vicky!”

“The final outcome,” continued Rosadera, “shall be determined by a guttural-off!”

“Optimus and Green Dalek,” explained Verdutha, “must each give a line in a deep voice, trying to go deeper than their opponent.”

“The instant one cannot find a good line, or their voice gives out, they are defeated,” Moradelia went on.

“Green Dalek, are you ready?” asked Rosadera.

“Ready and waiting!” declared Green Dalek.

“Optimus Prime, are you ready?”

“Let’s do this,” rumbled Optimus.

“Then all that’s left,” declared Rosadera, “is to determine who shall display the deepest-sounding voices! With this round, we shall determine who will take home the Mirror of Realty! Speak with honor, speak with pride, and, most importantly, speak well! Who shall start?”

“Green Dalek, would you mind?” asked Optimus.

“Are you sure?” asked Green Dalek.

“Beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

“Might prove to be your mistake.” Green Dalek cleared his throat before he began. “Autobots, transform and roll out!”

“I believe that is MY line,” Optimus replied in a lower tone. The conversation went into lower and deeper tones.

“You’re not the only Optimus Prime to say that.”

“Perhaps, but I AM the best.”

“A rather rookie mistake.”

“I have made Unicron blink before.”

“Did you come back from the dead?”

“I saw no need to die.”

“Brave; but breaking the mythos.”

“I prefer not to stagnate. It’s against my people’s goals.”

“A noble goal, to be sure. But do you have the will?”

“More than enough will.”

“Let us hope…” Green Dalek didn’t get far as he coughed. “Dammit!” he whispered. “Too low, even for me!”

“My own vocal circuits are starting to overheat.” Rosadera snapped her fingers as Optimus’ vocal circuits cooled and Green Dalek drank a glass of pink, sweet-tasting water.

“Oh well, maybe next time,” sighed Green Dalek.

“I look forward to seeing you win one,” wished Optimus.

“Speaking of winning,” called Rosadera, “this contest is over! Ladies and gentlemen, we have our winner! The one that spoke in the deepest possible voice, the new owner of the Mirror of Reality, the winner of this round, the champion of the 600,017th Verse Vs. Verse Rumble Royale…is Optimus Prime, the youngest leader of the Autobots and the champion of T-R-4-N-5-F-0-R-M-3-R-5-M-0-8-1-4-N-C-H-R-0-N-1-C-L-3-5!” The cheers were loud and long! “Congratulations, Optimus Prime! You have earned the Mirror of Realty! Tell me, do you intend to use it or is it too powerful for anyone to use?”

“The latter, most assuredly,” rumbled Optimus.

“Good fight,” bid Green Dalek.

The Closing Ceremony took place on Thanksgiving. Optimus, Green Dalek, and the Third-Place winner, an opposite version of Megatron that leads the Heroic Decepticons, one that Optimus knew. “Ladies and gentlemen,” began Rosadera, “we thank you all for joining us for this particular 3V2R! These three combatants,” she gestured towards Optimus, Good Megatron, and Green Dalek, “have proven to be the toughest of this tournament’s contenders. Now, they shall claim their rewards.” Azuliterii approached Good Megatron and handed him a book.

“Megatron of the Decepticon Heroes Alliance,” she announced, “Third Place prize is the Libretto of Prophecy. It will allow you to look into the future from multiple viewpoints and gives you the opportunity to choose which prophecy you wish to come true.”

“My lady, I shall guard this thing jealously,” promised Good Megatron. Verdutha approached Green Dalek with a device that functioned like a belt.

“Green Dalek,” she revealed, “Second Place prize is the Fandom ShielDriver. This shall help you shield the weak and protect your family whenever someone in your world goes too far.”

“ShielDriver?” asked Green Dalek. “Does that mean I can become a Kamen Rider? I don’t even know how to use this thing!”

“There’s an instruction manual inside a compartment in the belt,” explained Verdutha.

“That will help,” mused Green Dalek. Rosadera then approached Optimus with a large mirror in her hands.

“Optimus Prime,” she proclaimed, “as promised, you are the master of the Mirror of Reality. Use it however you see fit but guard that thing jealously.”

“I intend to,” promised Optimus.

“With all that,” declared Rosadera to the audience, “it’s time for the Closing Parade! If the winners will follow us, we’ll all go to the Winner’s Float!” The three contestants climbed onto the float and it moved off into the streets as the Chizaran Spectrum Marching Band led the way. Like the last time Optimus fought in the 3V2R, the parade was a good two hours before it arrived at the Closing Torch. The winners stepped down, received their torches, then they threw their torches into the Closing Torch and it leapt high into the air, flashing in all the colors of the Chizaran rulers. “Ladies and gentlemen from all realities,” began Rosadera, “we cannot thank you enough for supporting past, present, and future tournaments. We thank you all for tuning in on this Thanksgiving. As we all return home, we urge you all to stay safe and have fun! Happy Thanksgiving!” The cameras then turned back to Blancalmarem and Nemengra.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we thank you all for joining us this Thanksgiving!” began Blancalmarem.

“We enjoyed seeing all the decorations of the viewers and contestants!” continued Nemengra.

“Thanks to your support, this tournament was a success! We hope to see you tune in to more tournaments! I am Blancalmarem, the white princess of Chizara and the life leader!”

“I am Nemengra, the black princess of Chizara and the death leader!”

“And we thank you for joining us for the 600,017th Verse Vs. Verse Rumble Royale!” the two princesses finished together.

(Author’s note) Green Dalek is the man that inspired me to continue with my hobbies. He helped me in writing how his bout with Optimus would go. Go check out his stuff!

Agamemno Contingency Standalones TS

Agamemno Contingency 7

Agamemno Contingency, file code name: Blue Blur

Sonic the Hedgehog, as his name suggests, is a humanoid hedgehog that is capable of going faster than Mach 1. He’s capable of maintaining that same speed going backwards as well as forwards. He is also able of using seven mystical gems called the Chaos Emeralds to obtain a golden super form which gives him incredible power and flight on the levels of Superman. He has aquaphobia, meaning his biggest weakness is that he can’t swim in most circumstances. He can run on water but interrupting that run will cause him to fall into the water. His phobia’s at its height when he’s near the ocean. He is also cocky and impatient, so dismissing his skills and forcing him to wait is the best way to incapacitate him when not near large bodies of water.

Agamemno Contingency Standalones TS

Agamemno Contingency 6

Agamemno Contingency, file code name: Fox

Arsha Royana is skilled at naval command at such a young age for her universe. Her magic skills are also not to be underestimated. However, her hand-to-hand combat is only average at best as she usually uses magic to enhance her techniques. She takes death personally, believing that the death of any of her crew is always her fault. Making a weapon of that will shatter her concentration on her magic.