Hugh J. O'Donnell

Yrian the Wicked pulled the shroud from the corpse waiting in the center of the room. The creature was seven feet tall, crowned in eyes, and robed in red velvet. Its mouth was sewn shut, but it had a second gaping maw in its abdomen, lined with jagged, inhuman teeth. The legs were removed entirely. The wizard had grafted a writhing mass of purple tentacles in their place. It was a thing of monstrous beauty.
The room was oppressively silent.
“It’s a bit busy,” someone in the back finally said.
The necromancer sighed. He hated taking his turn for critique.

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He’d stood sentinel before the shrine for as long as he could remember. It was his purpose, his glorious task. He had kept faith beyond death, though his flesh had rotted away and his armor rusted. He still stood guard and waited.
The party of thieves scoffed when they saw him standing alone on the bridge. “There’s only one skeleton?” Their leader said.
They didn’t know duty, discipline, or honor. But he was happy to demonstrate.
Afterward, he returned to his vigil. Sometimes the shrine would raise intruders to be his companions. He waited to see if they were worthy.

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When the tentacled horror burst through the roof of the old Watson place, fear and madness gripped the local populace. That is a natural reaction to any encounter with the Old Ones.
Watson had pulled something sinister from the lightless depths of an oceanic hell long forgotten by mortal minds. He’d upended their belief in an orderly, just universe and had dropped Humanity precipitously on the food chain. Panic in the face of such terror is understandable.
Fortunately, the response was not shared by the many feral cats of the neighborhood, whose simpler minds only saw a free seafood buffet.

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The proposal for a geodesic dome over Manhattan was met at first with derision, then skepticism, and finally growing support among the city dwellers.
The project was approved when the designers assured Manhattan’s wealthiest residents that the dome would improve the air quality in their penthouses and even insulate them from Climate Change. Advertisements depicted the bubble community placidly surviving blizzards, hurricanes, and even among the ruins of a sunken New York City.
Finally, construction was complete. The residents moved back into their Park Avenue-adjacent homes with great pomp and fanfare.
And the builders sealed the dome shut behind them.

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The bridge only extended a few feet into the foggy canyon. It was a collection of wooden struts and posts that ended in open air. Or so it appeared.
She stepped out towards the edge, in her white dress and flower crown, carrying the chalice carefully. She reminded herself to have faith as she raised the cup to the void.
The hand that took it coalesced out of black cloud and shadow. The Stormcloud King seemed to stand on nothing at all. But as he drank, the rolling bank solidified into a strong bridge, and their two worlds were joined.

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The prison complex was a marvel of superhuman design. It was a tower of interconnected spheres, each of which held a different type of supervillain. The site didn’t merely suppress powers, but actively used them against the inmates. Fire powers contained villains with ice powers, and so on.
As more prisoners were incarcerated, more were needed to maintain equilibrium. Abuse became rampant. Sentences were extended for the slightest infraction. Nobody got out. The prison became overcrowded.
But in bringing that many master criminals together, it was only a matter of time before they figured out how to bring it down.

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The dragon stood over the fallen adventurers and roared in victory. They had been fierce opponents but not nearly strong enough.
She bent down and began to strip the corpses, adding armor, weapons, and coins to her hoard. Humans loved their gold, but then so did she.
The metal was soft enough to work and would conduct the heat of the dragon’s breath without completely melting. It was the perfect nesting material.
Soon, she would have enough to keep her eggs warm when she laid them. She just needed a few more parties of ‘heroes’ to deliver it to her.

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