Three-Trope Tales.

So as I threatened mentioned in last week's entry, I'm going to try doing some short fiction here in the blog.  Some of it will be with a theme or intent or what-have-you, some won't.  I'd say something about some of it being worth reading and some of it not, but it's probably better if I not play at being the judge of that.

Anyway.  These will naturally be longer than my usual blog entries, so I'll probably only do one or two a month.  It all depends on what I feel like doing, but at least it means one entry a month where I'm not complaining, so that's good.

To start things off, I'm doing a Three-Trope Tale - going to TV Tropes and picking three tropes and writing something based on those.  Some of these will be chosen at random, others will not, and I might never tell which is which.  :P  Let's see how this goes. . . .

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The door to his study slammed open, and the Dark Lord stood there in silhouette, and Vincent knew that his time had come.

“My army lies in tatters,” the Dark Lord growled, her eyes aglow in red within the shadows of her dread helm.  Darkness roiled around her, tendrils of it twisting across the stone floor, leaving shards of ice in their wake.  “Because you failed me.”

Vincent’s guts turned cold.  No.  This could not be, he’d – he’d done the Dark Lord’s bidding, hadn’t he. . . .  He struggled to force out any words that could give him a few more moments of life.  “My Lord . . . how?”

“We were invincible.”  The Dark Lord’s voice, thunder and pain and the screams of the damned, filled the room.  She strode inside, and she loomed over Vincent, her silhouette rising up every wall.  “We had the very gods of darkness at our backs.  No force on this world could have stood against us.”

Vincent kept silent.  One did not interrupt the Dark Lord.

“One man dared.”  The red glow from the Dark Lord’s eyes dimmed, her eyes behind the helm narrowing to hellish slits, the reek of sulphur and dead flesh pervading the air around her.  “One.  Man,” she spat.  Lightning flashed in the distance, and ravens cried to the blackened sky.

They might be his last words alive, but Vincent had to know.  “One man . . . did what, my Lord?”

He never saw the Dark Lord move, only knew that frigid gauntlet as it snapped around his throat and the Dark Lord wrenched him out of his chair.  The chair froze and shattered, sending splinters spearing through the air.  Those that touched the Dark Lord’s armor burst into blue flames.

Vincent hung in the Dark Lord’s grip, his high collar frozen around his neck, his feet barely touching the floor.  He would not choke, not while the Lord had questions for him.  He struggled to speak, his tongue heavy with fear.  “My Lord, I . . . I accounted for everyone–”

“Ah, yes, your list.  Learn every name in the kingdom, you said, and we will find our enemy.”  With her free hand, the Dark Lord rifled through the papers scattered over Vincent’s desk.  Each one she touched decayed, turning black and mouldering the space of a breath.  She wrapped her bleak gauntlet around a thick stack and crumpled the papers together, shoved the rotting text beneath Vincent’s nose.

“Was the man called Lief on your list?” the Dark Lord boomed, and Vincent struggled to stay conscious as the sound of hooves crushing bones hammered through his mind.  “This man, Lief, who walks through fields of decay without care?  This man whose mere words turned my skeletal armies to ash?  This man whose sword cut down thousands and left him untouched?”

Vincent forced another breath into his lungs.  “My Lord, it is known . . . the Light’s Victor, he . . . he can hide himself, so you cannot find him . . . he can make himself forgotten, so none think they have seen him. . . .”

“Children’s stories,” the Dark Lord sneered, and the burning glare blazed in her eyes again.  That heat seared across Vincent’s skin, and sweat dripped from his brow as the Dark Lord pulled him closer, mailed fingers tightening around his neck.  “Tell me, Vincent,” the Dark Lord seethed, the sound of coffins slamming shut echoing behind her voice.  “Tell me how your list did not include this man.”

“I spoke to everyone!  Everyone!” Vincent wailed.  “I swear, my Lord, if I learned his name, I forgot, and must have thought including him a mistake!”  He squeezed his eyes shut against that terrible gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord – I must have taken Lief off my census!”

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Today's story was brought to you by the tropes Evil Overlord, The Chosen One, and Incredibly Lame Pun.  Thanks for reading.