PROMPT Plot Picture Challenge 46

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Here in the Void
Posting Speed
Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Supernatural, Horror
Genre You DON'T Like
A picture is worth a thousand words, as is often quoted.

How does the picture below speak to you? Perhaps as a poem? Perhaps a roleplay idea? Maybe a story?

Whatever comes to your mind, write those words down! All is well and welcome, whether a couple of sentences or more!



Monument of Vice
BITE Fall Community Pick
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Male
Record scratch. Freeze Frame.

'ello mate. 'tis me. You were probably wonderin' how I got meself into this situation. Ta tell ye the truth, I wonder that meself, all the time. Where do I start?

I used to be just a regular lad, ya know, just like ye. Except me da was a king and me ma a pretty wicked witch. Now, I kno what ye be thinkin'. "Oh no, what a tragic childhood, he must be scarred and broken at a young age. Poor lad. Well, at least he was a Prince, so there's that." Me childhood was actually quite alright, to tell ye the truth. Me da was way scarier than me ma, although she skin blokes in her spare time and he just kinda lounge around the palace. Da always tried to teach me stuff like how to be king and so on, it bored me near to death. Ma never asked much of me, she even gave me her spare scalps to play wit' when she don need them anymore. I had a little sister once, but ma sacrificed her to some sort o' spirit and that made da really mad at her. They stopped talkin' for a week or so before havin' make up sex for like 5 nights in a row. I guess ye'd find them quite strange, but tat' me ma and da.

When I turned 16 though, da insisted I go to the mountain to find some bloke called "Sage", but ma hated him so she gave me a potion. The trip was quite miserable, really, bu' da sent some blokes to watch me and they didn't like me turning back. So, after like, 17 years climbin' some rocks at the arse-end of the world, we found this Sage bloke who, I must say, were quite a nasty piece of work. He wanted me to learn some real nonsense text that made me head ache, so I opened ma's potion and Sage and all of da's friends dropped dead. So Sage's stuff became mine and I lounged like da around his place for a few years.

One day I fell into a well and cracked me head and died. As I was lying there I thought, what a shitty way to die. So I possessed Sage's skeleton to write a letter home asking me da to rescue me from some sort of made up problem. Da'd send some more of his friends and I'd push them into the well and they'd become skeletons like me. They all took it pretty chilled and were overall quite nice blokes to hang around with.

So, we'd chill and play cards and when more of da's friends come me mates and I'd make it a game to hunt them down and make more mates. I'm afraid me life's not as colourful as others, but ye kno, I'm quite happy wit' it.

So now ye be all caught up. What ye say to coming around to hang with me and me mates? It'll be a fun time. Talk to ye later tho', our new mate is gettin' aweh. See ye around lad.


Beads of sweat formed around his forehead, upper lip, and the back of his neck. The warrior of an unknown age grimaced, his teeth clenched down nearly ensnaring his bottom lip in the process.

The circumstance of the situation, no his situation, proved precarious the outcome tragic if he were to even remotely lose hold of the rope; the connection between his life and obvious death. By no means was he a man of religion believing in life after death or any of that although if such a place as hell did indeed exist, he felt was thrust in the heart of it.

With a golden gauntlet covered hand firmly clutching the rope still against his better judgement, the male stole a look below. Stringy damp hair touched his bearded face and sweat made a beeline down his cheeks and so on. Above, to freedom, he could hear the protests of his comrade echoing from ear to ear urging him to stop lollygagging to leave behind all monstrosities of the circular bastille. They had what they wanted why linger longer than what was needed? In spite of the close waltz with death, he still found time to be curious. There they were, below him wadding through the dark water. Manifestations of evil. Once men or something of the sort, their failure resulted in the loss of their humanity and for those unlucky enough to bear witness to them they would see skeletal figures caked in long dried blood.

At the base of the enclosed space, where the air was humid and no shortage of rot wafted into the male's nostrils, sat the tapered pedestal. Surrounding it the dormant bodies and not a drop of water. It had been when the warrior withdrew the firey saber that set off the trouble. Water filed in from below and the decayed bodies walked the world yet again. He had been warned of what was to come, they all knew the risks however the debt was too great to ignore.

Hearing the clanking of the corpses made him turn away to the above where the light of the noon azure sky greeted him and would safeguard his life. With the crackling saber in his other hand, he kept his boots planted on the wall slowly but surely climbing up. His comrade sent words of encouragement descending to him of which he pushed to the side. He would rather remember the voice of his love. The last time they spoke it hadn't been on the most pleasant terms. In fact, he was sure he hurt her in a way she would never want to see him again let alone forgive him. It couldn't be helped.

His eyes closed a moment. When darkness enveloped him he was brought back to the time when the two of them were alone on the bank together. Instead of asking for her hand in marriage, he told her he had to leave. Her heavy tears hurt him. Leaving her destroyed him internally and all he could do was think about how to repair the damage he created. The voice of his comrade broke his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he felt a sharp jerk of the rope. It threw him off balance a bit. For a slight moment his comrade disappeared but reappeared shortly.

"Everything alright?" He asked. His comrade nodded hesitantly.
The warrior became guarded. Aside of the dank smell taking up residence in his nose, he smelled ash. The closer he reached the top, the more he could see the pained expression on the face of his comrade. Guard reverted to alarm.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

The other male responded, he coughed up blood and by the time the warrior threw a hand up over the top pulling himself up, his partner slouched forward. The rope slipped from his hands below. He had been attacked from what the warrior was able to see throwing his entire weight on to the dusty ground. Still clutching the prized saber, he turned to his friend.
Something tore a hole through his midsection, the wound was grievous. At this rate nothing could be done for him.

Looking around as he sat up, he discovered more bodies all maimed. They belonged to the members of the party scattered about like leftover trash. What had done this? He wondered, were they all dead? He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

Something was behind him. As it breathed, his hair blew. He kept a tight grip on the saber. The scaled head of the midnight creature spread beside the warrior and steam rose from the nostrils. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the maw open revealing jagged teeth stained with human blood and a blinking red eye. The head alone was bigger and longer than the warrior. He had come from one situation only to be thrust in another.

Death would surely claim him this time and his thoughts were only on her, his love. His fist enclosed tighter around the saber's hilt.