Funny, comical
View all tagsThe maiden, Lila, walked the palace gardens as always, her golden hair cascading down her back, every step light, every movement graceful. She was admired by all in the kingdom, praised for her beauty and delicate features, cherished as the embodiment of grace itself.
Lilith sighed, her forked tail twitching with irritation as she watched Jezebel sashay past her cubicle. The newly promoted succubus manager's stilettos clicked against the brimstone floor, leaving tiny scorch marks in their wake.
The wind whipped through my hair as we soared above the clouds, my hands gripping the iridescent scales of Kazanthur the Magnificent. This was my first time riding a dragon, and my heart pounded with equal parts terror and exhilaration.
Dear Concerned Humans,
Dear Valued Customer,
The human king shifted uncomfortably in his chair, gripping the armrests a little tighter. Across the table, the Demon King took a long gulp of wine, his sharp claws tapping against the goblet as he set it down.
Carl the Cockroach always knew he was different. While his brothers and sisters scurried about in dark corners, Carl had dreams. Big dreams. He didn’t want to just be another cockroach rummaging through crumbs. No, Carl had aspirations of fame, of becoming the first cockroach to conquer the mighty kitchen counter during daylight. It was a dangerous task, but Carl had seen too many horror stories about the Spray. It was said to be instant death.
"You put ALL your points into luck? Again?" Marcus groaned, staring at my status screen in disbelief. His muscles bulged beneath his plate armor, testament to his maxed-out strength stats. Next to him, Elena sighed, her mage robes shimmering with the power of her intelligence-focused build.
"Demon King!" the hero bellowed, brandishing his sword. "By decree of His Majesty, I have come to rescue the princess. Release her at once, or face the consequences!"
The dim glow of flickering neon signs outside the dusty bar barely lit the crumbling alley. Inside, the place smelled of old wood, stale beer, and secrets. A man, gaunt and dressed in a tattered cloak, nursed a mug of something dark and bitter. His eyes darted around the bar, half-expecting someone to burst in at any moment.