[Prompt] Homestuck

((New PC, FFVIIR, and Vacation delayed this, sorry))

Normally the world needs some level of saving. Cats stuck in trees, druids concerned with their identity, priests spreading a bit too much holy word. Many days there are tasks that must be done, issues that must be dealt with big or small.

Except today.

Today you find yourself with wholly nothing to do, yet there is no where to go either. You cannot leave your homestead. How do you spend your day? What fills your time? Did you find yourself stuck at home by chance, or by force? For how long? Just a day or months?


Info

This is meant to be a fun exercise, so there aren’t many rules.

Prompts are fun little things meant to inspire. You don’t have to perfectly match the prompt. Just let it inspire a thought.

I’m going to try and post these weekly, sometime between Saturday and Monday probably. Feedback and prompt ideas are welcome, so feel free to post them in the archive thread. Some prompts will be more thought provoking, some more whimsical. Respect your fellow writers.

Disclaimer: I cannot take full credit for every prompt. Some of these I create on my own, some are prompts I’ve seen that I’ve taken a WoW spin to, and some I’ve seen and used in the past, some are ideas spoken in passing between me and coworkers, or guildmates, or some are offered directly from folks on the forums. If I’ve been directly given a prompt from another person, I will credit them unless they do not want to. Otherwise, know some of these are gained through many means.


Archive: Kersia's Prompt Archive and Discussion

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A rooster crowed, and Bal’thrul’s eyes were startled open. “One of these days I’m going to strangle that damn chicken…” he thought to himself. However, he was never one to sleep in, a soldiers habit. Bal’thrul rolled out of this bed and stretched, before dressing in his homespun. There was plenty of yesterday’s bread in the pantry, so he carved a few slices and slathered them with cactus-apple jam, while brewing his morning tea. Once all was prepared, Bal’thrul left his hut to sit on the front step.

He breathed a sigh, as he lent against the door-frame. He would never tire of this sight, watching the sun rise over the ocean. About an hour’s ride south of Bladefist Bay, his was one of a few modest huts in this area, most of which we occupied today, and had been for the past several weeks. The longer one spent fighting the forces of the Black Empire, the more they became corrupted. Those who succumbed to the corruption then began attacking their allies, rather than the monsters that assaulted them.

Orders then came down from the Horde Council. All those who chose to fight were only allowed to for a fixed time, before being forced into isolation for as many weeks as they had been on the front lines. This taxed the Hordes efforts greatly, but their fight was more to contain the Black Empires strength, while the Champions of Azeroth worked to defeat the Old God itself.

Bal’thrul was shook from his reverie but a furry snout nudging his shoulder. He smiled, and scratched No’bu behind the ears. He picked up a bone that had been lying next to him and tossed it into the yard, the red-brown wolf chased after it, and brought it back. This time No’bu ran to the yard first, Bal’thrul tossed the bone, and the wolf leaped to catch it, before bringing it back again. Bal’thrul tossed the bone for a third time, but as No’bu readied himself to catch it, a mass of silver-grey fur leaped in front of him, snatching the bone.

Bal’thrul barked a laugh, but immediately tried to stifle it, as he saw the look of betrayal being shot at him by No’bu’s blue-green eyes. It was no use, and Bal’thrul continued to chuckle. No’bu snorted and turned his attention to the bone-thief, Revash, who belonged to Bal’thrul’s brother. Revash dropped the bone, inviting No’bu to take it back, only to snatch it away as the reddy-brown wold lunged forward. A chase ensued, and Bal’thrul turned his thoughts back to today’s tasks. He’d promised to help mend some arms and armour for the soldiers.

As if on cue, a patrol rounded the corner and made their way towards one of the other huts. Regular inspections were required, in case any corrupted items had made their way into the villages. Some folks had been stupid enough to keep them, others merely didn’t realise their gear had been afflicted. Inspections were twice a day, which irked people to no end, but it was necessary. Word came from Razor Hill a few days ago, that someone had attempted to study the corruption in their own home, but ended up succumbing to it instead, slaughtering two of the town guards before being put down.

Padded foots steps then drew Bal’thrul’s attention, No’bu had returned defeated. The wolf sulked, and lay his head in Bal’thrul’s lap. Bal’thrul smirked, scratching No’bu behind the ears again. He finished his tea, but did not rise. “The forge can wait a few moments longer” he thought to himself, as he continued to enjoy the morning sun.

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When it was discovered he had had contact with the Blade of the Black Empire, however brief, Ephelt was ordered to take an extended leave of absence. He didn’t mind.

Despite her physical departure, Ephelt still felt a… connection, to Xal’atath. Perhaps it was mere delusion, but it was a pleasant one.

“Looks like you were right.” He remarked to the empty air, smiling to himself as he took a sip of chamomile tea in his human guise. “N’zoth is bold to bring his madness to the fore here and now.” He stood up, opening a small tome with blinking eyes. “It will avail him naught. He is… conceited. His eyes have been turned to the tides too long- he knows not what the things above the sea are like.”

Ephelt paused, closing the book and looking out the window of his home. “The things beneath the ocean are horrifying in form, yes… but above the tides, standing upon stones, are creatures great and terrible in function.” He turns towards the translucent, ever-shifting shadow of Xal’atath, borne of his mind.

“Isn’t that right, my beloved sage?” His eyes gradually turned crimson as the beast within howled to hunt. But the beast within had no grasp on the shadow of Ephelt’s mind…

(This is not canon to the character of Ephelt/Epheldormu- not by a longshot.)

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“How had it come to this?” Not for the first time Gargup found himself lamenting his lot in life, he was supposed to be the manipulator of a powerful warlock bound to the burning legion! A chance of fate had turned his master away from her rightful ascension and towards “redemption”. Now, instead of a position of authority, he found himself hiding in one of his masters knee high boots.

With the coming of the black army his master had been put under house arrest, her near fall making the powers that be nervous that she would be tempted by the void.(A fall he played no small part in.) His master had a mind capable of understanding and contemplating the chaos and mystery of the nether. Now without her research, teaching, or even the occasional visit from her parole officer, she was bored… Only two weeks into her isolation, he wondered if this is what madness truly looked like.

The manor, once almost a shrine to organized chaos, was now immaculately clean. Books that had been left around the house had been read and organized by subject, author, and even publish date! Reagents were now sorted alphabetically by size and expiration! Even the boot he was currently hiding in smelled of shoe polish and cleaner instead of feet! Everything in the house was spotless.

He had stupidly risked trying to convince her to flout her jailers a day ago and now found himself the direct focus of all her pent up frustration and energy. The anti-teleportation wards placed to keep her here were a double edged sword, he found that he couldn’t phase out, but neither could she summon him directly to her.

All he could do was hide and hope. Even now he could hear slow, methodical footsteps on the stairs down the hall. Through their empathic link; he could feel her anger, feel her searching… He knew she would find him. Gargup; mighty imp of the burning legion, was terrified and quivering in someone else’s boots…

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My warlock would just summon her sucubus to pester for entertainment. Play some card games, maybe some off brand uno.
Keeping it PG but she would hold hands at the fire place.

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Tanthelara looked around the room and sighed. Her home was a modest dwelling in Silvermoon that bordered the city’s ruined and mostly-abandoned western half. Perhaps it was a perfect accommodation for a fledgling just leaving their parents’ household for the first time, or an elder to live out their twilight years, but for her it was more of a relic from a life forever put on hold. Outside the chamber walls the sin’dorei capital lay gripped in an intense summer storm that refused to relent, forcing its denizens to remain shuttered in-place until the tempest passed. For today at least, the priestess would be left to her own devices.

“Oh, Fahr…” she whispered in a sigh as she picked up a small portrait of her late fiancee from its place on a bookshelf, “…I miss you, more than you’ll ever know. We should be getting ready to celebrate our tenth year together…”

She returned the portrait to its resting place and paced around the living area of her home. As much as she enjoyed to lounge and relax, having free time dumped upon her like this was unnerving. The weather made it too dangerous to go out and allow her to distract herself from her still aching heart. Ten years was a considerable length of time, even for those whose lifetimes could easily trace into centuries.

Maybe that’s why she adventured as she did, she figured while taking a seat on the plush, cushioned sofa that sat along a wall near the entrance. Maybe it was all to distract herself from experiencing the sorrow of loss. She pondered what his final moments were like, envisioning him bravely standing defiantly against an unending swarm of undead, striking down waves of them with the powers he wielded as a Blood Knight before becoming overwhelmed. He was a fierce fighter in his own right, and made for a formidable paladin even in their people’s weakened state prior to the Sunwell’s miraculous re-ignition. She imagined him putting up an intense enough fight that the Scourge leadership -if they even had such a rank- would just seek to eliminate him rather than torture and reanimate, out of fear of the Light keeping its champion pure -despite the profane rituals once carried out at Liadrin’s behest beneath the streets of Silvermoon.

Allowing herself a little while longer to indulge the fantasy she had built up in her mind, she gradually began to reel herself back to reality. It had gotten dark, and with a slight chill in the air. With some minor incantations, she charged the mana crystals in the lamps adorning the walls and the chandelier hanging from the center of the room, activating them and causing them to bathe the room in their cool glow. She followed up with another quick spell that ignited the wood in the furnace near the galley-style kitchen, the orange hues mixing with the bluish ones from the mana crystals to create a semblance of daylight. There was plenty to do around the house in times like this, though. On the table next to her there was a small pile of contracts that she had promised to review and seemingly could never find time. There were half a dozen crafting projects she had started but never finished for one reason or another, as well, ranging from artwork to magical glyphs to small handheld trinkets the budding adventurer could use on their travels. Of course, she could always prepare a pot of tea and read, having had accrued a decent collection of books over the years - about a quarter of which that had been inadvertently pilfered from Dalaran’s Magus Commerce Exchange due to her forgetfulness and neglect to return borrowed items. Barring that, there was always the option of catching up on missed sleep, but such felt like a waste of even this sort of day. And yet, none of it appealed to her.

Well, there was another option - one so taboo, so beyond the normal for her, that she generally refused to even entertain the notion out of concern of what message it would send to others if word ever got out about her doing it. Even so, it would definitely be a surefire way to fight the boredom and drudgery of this rainy day…

“I suppose I could do some cleaning…” she said, her body immediately shuddering in reaction from the meer utterance of the word. As much as she enjoyed preening herself an upkeeping her physical appearance, and as much as she enjoyed having a clean and well-organized home, the thought of actually doing any house cleaning made her grimace in disgust. Physical labor wasn’t necessarily below her, she felt, but it was most unbecoming of someone such as herself. Elves didn’t clean, they just always were clean.

Still, as she looked across the room again and started taking notice of all the things out of place and the thick layer of dust lying on most surfaces, it became apparent that she had let things become disheveled and cluttered.

Tanthelara rubbed her face and put some fragrant herbs in a small pot of water and set it on the stove over a low flame so that as they released their scent, it would permeate the air and cleanse it. As their bright aroma began to drift from the kitchen area, she put her hair up into a bun and got to work bringing order to the chaos that had made its home in her dwelling.

Hours passed like minutes, and the storm outside eventually subsided, revealing a glorious golden sunset as evening fell over the elven city. The priestess wiped the sweat from her brow as she finished with her work and smiled while she looked over the fruits of her labor. It felt like she had brought new life to her home, and combined with the beautiful sunset, it elated her spirits far more than she would have imagined.

“Perhaps everything is going to be alright…” she said quietly, her heart feeling nowhere near as burdened as it did earlier that day.

((short-ish one here. I’ve been struggling with trying to figure out how to implement the prompt for about a week now. hope you enjoyed!))

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