This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

Bartholmes Klingelvuoz was one of those people who was decidedly irritating, when it came to temptation. He was supremely prideful, self-confident, and annoyingly righteous. He had internalized the church’s doctrines on hard work and dedication, and so was steadfastly set on the idea of working for his fortune.

That said, he didn’t want to work too hard. It was threading that needle that was giving Ohog such trouble. What he needed was a curse that would ruin him, but slowly. He needed to become dependent on a cursed item so subtly that he didn’t realize he was using it as a crutch. He needed something that would drag him down just as he was cresting the hill of fame and fortune…

Ah! “Well, yes,” Ohog gently took the harp out of Bartholmes hands and lay it back on the floor, “beautiful music will certainly soothe the savage customer, but what every good merchant needs is quality. You need something that grabs your customer’s attention so powerfully, that they’ll never let it go! Something that they will keep coming back for, because no one sells as good a product as you!”

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

Ohog grimaced when Helisäus Chytraeus opened the door to the curiosity shop. They had been hoping for a challenge, or at least something interesting. Instead, Helisäus was easily one of the most cliched and boring mortals he had ever seen. Slow of wit, large on ambition, and small in dedication. It was the curse of all mortals, that their dreams always reached so much further than their abilities, or their drive.

Some devils said Pride was the greatest sin, but Sloth certainly made temptation easier.

“Welcome to my little shop of curios! If you need help finding anything, I’d be more than happy to —”

“I’m looking for something interesting,” the man sniffed, beginning a circuit of the store. “You have anything interesting here?”

“But of course,” Ohog forced another smile. “Everything in here is interesting in some way or another. Each item has its own marvelous tale…why, that harp you are holding was made out of —”

“I don’t want something curious,” Helisäus sniffed, setting the harp back on the floor, “I want something interesting.”

Hello my fellow goblins!

I will be out of town for the rest of the month, and unable to post as usual. I’ll resume my regular schedule in August, next Saturday.

I’ll see you all then!

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules, , and inspired by the Doomed Empire line of miniatures created by Oshounaminis.

“You don’t like me much, do you?”

Rishard paused in his pacing to answer the hybrid human-machine. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do,” Airn didn’t bother looking up. “I may not be psychic like Shen, but I can tell when someone’s not comfortable around me. You think I don’t see it all the time in other people’s faces? I’m used to looks of disgust.”

Rishard didn’t answer. He glanced back up the tunnel. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“No, I suppose not,” Airn’s mechanical arms darted across the open panel. You mind if I ask you a question?"

Rishard resumed pacing. “Can’t stop you.”

“Did you ever — Ah!”

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

The door-bell chimed.

This time, Ohog was ready. “Welcome,” they said, taking a bow. “Welcome to my curiosity shop. Are you looking for anything in particular, or just browsing?”

“Oh,” the customer blushed, straightening her dress in unconscious nervousness. “I am…just browsing. Thank you.”

Ohog gave a charming smile. “Well, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” With that, they moved back behind the counter and studied their newest prey.

Ohog didn’t know much about mortal beauty standards. They never went in much for carnal temptations, they had always found it kinda weird that demons would go in for giving mortals joy, even if it ultimately resulted in their downfall. Wasn’t the whole point tormenting them? Well, if the monthly numbers were anything to go by, the experts knew how to make it work for them, so Ohog let them get on getting on. Ohog much preferred torments of a less charming nature. You knew where you stood with boils and needles. A saw across the chest was torture, there was no give-and-take about it.

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules, and inspired by the Doomed Empire line of miniatures created by Oshounaminis.

“There’s no trees.”

Airn looked up. “What?”

Rishard gestured around the horizon. “No trees. At least, not many. Look, I’m not going to complain about going on a treasure hunt, but I’ve seen Starhost ruins before, and they’re always in jungles or forests. At least there should be some grass. This is just sand and dirt. Barely any life at all. I haven’t even heard any insects buzzing.”

“There are birds,” Airn sighed, turning back to her work. “Shen mentioned seeing one several minutes ago.”

“Yeah, flying overhead,” Rishard leaned on their las-digger. “Probably migrating. I’d feel better if it had stopped by for a bit, but there’s nothing here any birds could want. It’s dead.”

“I promise you, we are in the right spot.” Airn’s glowing mechanical eye blinked, the only sign that she had flipped to the next screen of the file she was looking at. “Satellite positioning puts us within three meters of the target.”

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

Gene Mods were dangerous things. Hart knew this better than most, and he was not one to quickly forget a lesson. A mistake in the synthesis, an error in the gene coding, or even bumping the manipulator arms could result in horrible mutations, diseases, even acidic fog that would fill the lab in seconds. They had been tinkering with the building blocks of both life and death in Research Station Kappa.

The cells were separate from the main building. They were connected by a series of airlocks with extensive decontamination stations at regular intervals. The Monitoring station allowed Hart — and presumably the former lab-techs — to see what was happening in the cells without needing to risk life or limb of any of his soldiers.

Had the Sonic Sensors not picked up a distant noise, they wouldn’t have bothered looking. What could still be alive in the containment cells after so long without food or water?

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

Qhog tapped their long thin finger on the shop counter. Ordinarily, they would have felt bored, but given they had yet to see a single customer brought Qhog closer to panic.

It wasn’t so much that they were afraid of disappointing their general manager, it was more that they were terrified of burning in the Lake of Fire for even a portion of eternity. There were a lot of punishments in Hell — Qhog had felt them all at some point — and the Lake of Fire was definitely their least favorite. (Their favorite was the wheel. Frankly, they weren’t sure how the wheel was supposed to be torturous for mortal souls; they had found it fun.)

Qhog leaned out over the counter and stared out the window. It was a sunny day — at least, as sunny as it got in Wittenburg — and a number of souls were walking about, doing their daily chores. Several looked to be shopping, so why weren’t any coming into their shop?

Perhaps, Qhog thought in a haze of fear, if no one shows up, they can’t blame me for not tormenting any mortal souls? The hope vanished almost instantly. Hell was not known for mercy.

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

Commandant Schuler was a prisoner.

No matter how he looked at the situation, he couldn’t see it any other way. Oh, the Lance-Captain had been very polite; had a slew of excuses, apologies, and promises of vacating the colony soon enough, but Schuler was no fool. Despite all the ‘sir’s and ‘please’s, there was no mistaking the tone of command in the Lance-Captain’s voice. There was no missing the heavy rifles gripped in the hands of every armored-soldier that now crawled over the tiny colony “for their protection.”

Even now, in the back of an APC with no one but him and two “escorts,” a fully-charged plasma pistol was gripped in one of their fists, as if the gene-modded super-soldiers couldn’t snap his neck with all the effort of cracking an egg.

They didn’t even move right. Schuler watched as the APC tore over the uneven landscape, pitching left and right, rocking him back and forth against the metal walls of the transport enclosure. The soldiers barely moved at all, looking for all the world like they had been carved out of the APC, as much a part of it as the walls.

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

“They’re holding their hands up,” Horva reported. “It looks like they’re talking.”

“Damn it!” Ranthar snatched the com unit from the nearby operator. “Whoever reads me, tell Squad-Sergeant Wythe that Lord-Champion Ranthar wants to speak with him at once!”

Horva could only faintly hear the talking over the coms before Wythe’s steady voice became suddenly clear. “I’ve heard that roar before, Lord-Champion. I was stationed at Enek Powerstation. I was part of the bastion force sent to repel the Hive’s advances.”

“Sergeant Wythe,” Ranthar was furious, “What the devil are you —”

“I was there, sir!” Wythe shouted. Through the binoculars, Horva could see his hand was beginning to shake. “We managed to hole up, about twenty of us, in the lower levels. We were cut off from the command center. I was one of three sent out to scout and bring back intel on enemy activity. We reached the main power stacks, but a Hive Lord was already there along with a whole squad of crawlers. It looked around, like it was sniffing at things, and then gave… that howl and left. The whole squad just left. We got into the center and reconnected our coms to the computer, but…then…”