“Hey, boss,” Devon said knocking on Alec’s door.
“Slight problem. Your boyfriend is here.”
“…Which one?” Behind Alec slept his one of his other boyfriends. Devon thought he might have four?
“Alright… I’ll go talk to him; you keep Jono busy if he wakes.”
Snorting, Devon said, “Not on your life. He’s your boyfriend, you deal with him.”
Alec’s glare could kill the long dead. “I’m your boss.”
“And this isn’t in my job description.” Devon crossed his arms.
“Fine…” he grumbled, turning to go deal with Phoenix.
“And now I’ve got Bingo – love triangle.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
Author’s Note: Some people have a different lover in every city; Alec has a different lover in several different realities. It’s important to keep them separate because who wants to be in the middle of the fight when they find out about the others? In this case, Devon doesn’t seem to mind. [Editor: This is the sixth and last in a series. Check out all of Gabrielle’s stories for the rest of them.]
“Please!” The girl in the silk dress cried, throwing herself at Alec’s feet, “You have to help me! If you don’t, they’ll kill me!”
Alec backed up trying to avoid her grasping hands. “I…”
“I’ll do anything!”
“Yeah, alright.” He pulled her to her feet and dragged her in his office. Just as he shut the door a squad of men burst into the lobby.
The leader snarled, “Where is she?”
Five minutes later, with Devon’s help, he tossed the last of them out of the door.
“This doesn’t count as a princess in need of rescue,” Devon said.
Author’s Note: Damsels in distress are quite a common trope, of course. Of course Alec is going to help her if he can. In this case, the question is raised: if you put yourself into the “story” can you count it as part of the game? Devon thinks not. [Editor: This is the fifth in a series. Check out all of Gabrielle’s stories for the rest of them.]
“No. He doesn’t count,” Alec snapped, slapping his hand over Devon’s bingo card.
“And why the hell not?” Rhys asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I do believe I qualify as both mysterious stranger and cryptic mentor.”
“You just don’t want me to win bingo,” Devon countered.
“Yeah, but you’re a regular. You don’t even find people to mentor or be mysterious at here.”
“Really? I thought I mentored you some?”
“You’re my friend. That’s not mentoring,” Alec protested.
“You’re also always calling him a fucking mysterious bastard.”
“Fine. You can pick one.”
“Deal,” Devon said crossing off cryptic mentor.
Author’s Note: Rhys and Alec are long time friends, Alec often having played the Chosen One to Rhys’ Mysterious or Cryptic Mentor in various worlds they’ve visited. There’s nothing Rhys loves more than annoying Alec when he can. [Editor: This is the fourth in a series. Check out all of Gabrielle’s stories for the rest of them.]
Completely soaked, Dave hesitantly closed the door not believing what he saw. Never mind the Inn hadn’t been here the last time he’d driven down this road, but the man at the desk had pointy ears.
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
“Um… do you happen to have a phone? Mine died and my car died up the road.”
Smiling, the man said, “Of course. It’s down the hall to the left.”
Dave carefully skittered over to the pay phone.
As he did so Alec cheerfully crossed off “traveler from non-magical world finding magical inn” on his bingo card.
Author’s Note: This trope isn’t as common except in Urban Fantasies. I think there should be more of them. [Editor: This is the third in a series. Check out all of Gabrielle’s stories for the rest of them.]
Glancing at Devon, Alec asked, “Would you call that adventuring party gathers?”
His second frowned thoughtfully. The five people under consideration sat around a table listening intently to an older man who pointed to an old tattered map.
“Oh, come on, they’ve got the fighter, mage, rogue, cleric and ranger. It’s classic party gathers.”
“Yeah, but they all knew each other as kids. Obviously, it’s old friends reuniting for adventure.”
Smugly, Devon marked it off on his bingo card as Alec grumbled. Meanwhile, oblivious to the Inn’s owner’s discontent, the five friends made treasure hunting plans.
Author’s Note: Almost every D&D game seems to start in an Inn doesn’t it? [Editor: This is the second in a series. Check out all of Gabrielle’s stories for the rest of them.]
The door thumped open, wind blowing leaves through the lobby, letting in a man wearing a grey cloak. Dark eyes darted around the room as he warily took in everyone.
His eyes settled upon a man sitting in a corner of the restaurant and he strode imperiously over.
“Baleron, I have been looking for you.”
“I’ve no interest in your words.”
“It is time! Your people need you! Or would you see them burn?”
Fist clenching Baleron said, “Very well, if I must.”
At the front desk Alec checked off the “reluctant heir” box on his bingo card.
Author’s Note: The reluctant heir who refuses the call is a classic figure. Really it should be the free space. Mysterious Inns are a common trope in many fantasy stories. I imagine the owner, Alec in this case, and workers probably need to keep themselves entertained when they keep on seeing the same sorts of people come in all the time. [Editor: This is the first in a series. The rest of these fun pieces will appear over the next few days.]
“Adrian! What did you do?” Trever yelped at the ritual mage in mild horror. A bright pink owlet, tucked neatly in a shoebox, stared up at him before hooting.
Peering at the owlet, Adrian shrugged, “I’m not sure…”
Before he could say anything else Ceilidh burst into the room. Spotting the owlet the little girl squealed delightedly. “My very own pink owl!! I’ve always wanted one!!! Thank you!!” She snatched the shoebox, fleeing before the adults could even react.
Watching her run away, Adrian bemusedly asked Trever, “She’s always wanted a pink owl?”
“She’s five. She wants a pink everything.”
Author’s Note: I saw this tiny pink owl Beanie Baby in the store and wondered what would turn an owl pink and then who would want a pink owl. The answer really was obvious.
The rain sprayed down onto Delora as she laid in the street staring up into the grey sky. She twisted her arms carefully so that the fit the chalk outline perfectly. As soon as she did so the rain vanished and she felt herself falling hard onto the cement in shock, her abdomen burning in pain. Long sunset shadows crossed the street. Just out of her view she saw green sneakers and black pants, a voice laughing, gloating.
Snapping out of it, the pain vanished and Delora looked up at her fellow officers. “The victim knew his killer…” she began.
Author’s Note: I think this would make an interesting crime drama gimmick.
Brent McPherson was sentenced yesterday to twenty to twenty five years for the publishing of Necromancy for Dummies. When giving her verdict Judge Goldberg said “We don’t allow people to practice brain surgery without years of schooling, a degree and a license, why would we allow necromancers to do the same?”
Mr. McPherson is suing the Federal Magical Safety Board for impinging on his first amendment rights when they banned the book as illegal use of magic and a safety hazard.
Finally, the publisher of the “… for Dummies” series is suing Mr. McPherson for copyright infringement.
~L.A. Times article
Author’s Note: The masquerade is a common thing found in many urban fantasy stories. So, what if there was none? What sort of things would people have to deal with? What sort of books on magic would they write? “… for Dummies” series seemed to be ripe for the picking.
“Bloody Mary!” the three girls yelled for the third time, staring into the bathroom mirror. Strange swirling shapes began to form within its confines. They clung to each other and held their breath. Slowly the amorphous forms became a face: pale and cruel looking with … mud dripping into … a beard?
In a trembling voice one girl asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m Muddy Harry!” The muddy and bushy bearded man roared. The three girls cowered at his voice, clinging fearfully to each other. “Who were you expecting!?”
“Bloody Mary?” one girl asked hesitantly.
“… Damnitall. Heard it wrong, again!”
Author’s Note: My mom has a hearing loss that causes her to mishear words all the time. And I just like playing around with the idea that Bloody Mary isn’t the only spirit to be called in the girl’s bathroom.