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Hapless

Merman, Merman 2: Wreck of the Sea, Merman 3: Terror of the Ocean

STRAY
i think they're already making a movie based on that game...hope it doesn't cancel

Goldenbuoy’s greatness

“No More Danceee”
The old villa stood silhouetted against the inky sky, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the group arriving. They'd booked the secluded retreat for a weekend of laughter and reconnection, a world away from the city's clamor. The hefty price tag ensured their privacy – no unwanted intrusions, just their little circle. Or so they thought.

Inside, bathed in the warm glow of the porch lights, sat a figure. A man. He was an anomaly, a misplaced piece in their carefully constructed puzzle. How had he gotten in? They'd paid for exclusive access. Confusion rippled through the group. "Who are you?" Liam finally asked, the question hanging heavy in the still night air.

The man turned, a slow, deliberate movement. His lips stretched into a wide, unsettling smile, a manic glint in his eyes. He didn't answer. He simply rose and, with an unnerving smoothness, melted into the shadows. The friends exchanged uneasy glances. They shrugged it off, attributing it to the strangeness of the location, and decided to focus on their celebration.

The night unfolded with familiar ease. Laughter echoed through the villa, fueled by shared memories and whispered secrets. As the hour grew late, they gathered in the living room, the air thick with anticipation for a game of Truth or Dare. Just as they were about to begin, a voice, raspy and husky, cut through the jovial atmosphere. "I want to play too."

It was the strange man. He stood in the doorway, his presence casting a long, ominous shadow. A wave of discomfort washed over the group. They didn't want him there. They didn't know him. But the thought of refusing, of creating an awkward scene, held them back. With forced smiles and nervous laughter, they acquiesced.

The game began. Truths were revealed, dares were accepted, and the bottle spun. Round after round, it miraculously avoided landing on the strange man. It was as if some unseen force was guiding its path. The tension mounted with each spin, each question, each dare.

Then, it was Mia's turn. She chose dare. The strange man's eyes, now gleaming in the dim light, fixed on her. He produced a cookie from seemingly nowhere. "Eat this," he rasped, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Mia hesitated. The cookie looked ordinary enough, but an unsettling feeling gnawed at her. She argued, trying to wiggle out of it, but the man remained insistent, his smile unwavering. After fifteen minutes of tense negotiation, she reluctantly took a bite. Nothing happened. The game continued, the strange man’s presence an unsettling undercurrent to the dwindling festivities.

The clock struck midnight. A sudden, jarring shift ripped through the room. Mia, who had been sitting quietly, sprang to her feet. Her eyes were wide, vacant. And then, she began to dance....( I will also tell the plot twist if this a bit successful?)

Woahhhhhhhh......incredible it is, afterall ur my friend @bombing_knight

@Duskyeye said in #16:

Woahhhhhhhh......incredible it is, afterall ur my friend @bombing_knight
All your blessings ‘R’.

"I Sold My Parrot To The Village Gossip"

"Unfamiliar Ease."

I borrowed a phrase from my Friend @Bombing_Knight

[The Lone Archer: The King’s Son]

While the storm raged ferociously around the land of Geshmere, a small duo were walking through the endless forest around them.

One of them was an adult, an archer who was once held in high renown, the other was a young child, the only heir to the good King Felnir. Both were on the run, with their enemies not far behind.

They were journeying towards the border between Geshmere and its neighbouring country: Slondonia.
Slondonia was ruled by a council of highly revered soothsayers, who as legend would have it, were bound under a promise to never lie in any way. Other rumours were that if they lied even once they would instantly die. The beautiful queen Selmia was visiting completely unaware of the tragedy that occurred in her absence. The King was dead.

As the wind and rain plummeted the two, the archer took of his rainproof cloak and after wrapping the child up he carried him through the woods. As the archer walked he remembered how he had first ended up here in this situation.

———

He had been one of the King’s royal archers but had fallen away due to his reputation being tarnished by false accusations. For the last few years he had lived in a small cottage near a large beautiful lake. His usual routine was waking up early in the morning and hunting deer. It was the only thing that brought him joy.

He was on the other side of the lake when he heard the sound of metal on metal and intense fighting. He hurried towards the sound, breaking through the trees until he reached the road where a royal carriage stood. Around the carriage were dead bodies of knights that had been on guard and standing over them with jeering faces stood eight bandits.

Upon hearing his entrance the lead bandit drew his sword and turned to cut the archer in two. But the archer grimly smiled, thinking how bad this day was going to become for these bandits. He ducked the swipe and, grabbing hold of the bandits leg, he pivoted performing a slam which knocked his attacker unconscious. The other bandits were enraged to see their leader fall so easily and they came on, swords drawn with murder written on their faces.

With dreadful coolness, the archer drew his bow and nocked an arrow before releasing it with ferocious speed at the nearest bandit who fell head first to the ground dead. The archer continued firing arrows and ducking swipes until the remaining six bandits lay dead.

Just as the archer was about to leave he heard a soft whisper of fear, and the sad crying of a child. He walked toward the carriage to find the King lying with his eyes closed while holding on to a small golden-haired boy, the prince!

“Your Majesty!”, the archer cried before kneeling at the kings side. The king’s eyelids slowly opened and he fixed a pair of stern ice-blue eyes on him. Then his face softened and he spoke with pain and sadness, “Ontarion, you were once my closest friend... now I beg you please take the prince and bring him to his mother who is visiting the Council of Slondonia. Protect him and bring his safely there, for my souls sake. I trust you...”.

With a flickering of his eyes and a droop of the his head, Ontarion realised that the King was dead. “My king...”, he muttered before turning to the pale-faced prince. “Come, your highness. We have a long journey ahead of us, but we will see your mother.” The archer stretched out his hand, and the small child took it eagerly...

———

The archer blinked away the memories and looked at the peaceful face of his precious charge. So young yet so much like his father. “I must protect him at all costs”, the archer thought to himself. He knew that the road ahead would be long and arduous, but the prince depended on him to get him to his mother safely, and that was what he was going to do...