A warrior, a mage, and a cleric walk into a ruined manor house…


Every now and then I come up with an idea and think, “…This is weird.” Normally, I keep those ideas to myself, but now that I have a blog for keeping my stories, I no longer have to! This post’s title is a writing prompt I found on the blog Novel Notes. The story hit me instantly. I figured, ‘Ah, what the heck. I’ll stick this in my blog.’ (Oooooh! Two flash fictions in one day! I’m on a roll!)

Also, one last note, I mention fantasy nerds and their lame jokes. I have nothing against fantasy nerds ( and probably am one to a small extent…), or lame jokes. In fact, I love and encourage lame jokes. And to my knowledge, fantasy nerds are no more or less likely to tell a lame joke than the general population. Please enjoy my story.

—————

A warrior, a mage, and a cleric walk into a ruined manor house and—

“Nope. I cannot do this anymore.”

The mage and the cleric turn to the warrior, his hands held up in defeat. “Cannot do what, warrior?”

This. Being the set up for some fantasy nerd’s lame joke that only gets pity laughs.”

“But your life is much more than that, warrior,” insists the cleric.

“Is it?”

“Certainly,” says the mage. “Why, you save damsels. You love saving damsels!”

Do I? I just don’t think I want to save damsel any more. And what about you guys? Mage, tell me you want to spend the rest of your life casting spells wantonly across the countryside.”

“Of course I do. They get me into zany high-jinx.”

“They’ve prematurely aged you. Look at the state of your beard.”

“It took home first prize at the Majestic Mages’ Battle of the Beards last spring,” gloated the mage as he stroked his thicket of white whiskers.

“You’re twenty-four years old, mage!” The warrior shook his head. “Maybe you guys can keep doing this, but I can’t.”

The warrior threw his sword onto the floor of the ruined manor house and left, never to return.

The mage and cleric waited for a few moments, then joined in his rebellion.

Left abandoned, for houses cannot move on their own accord, the ruined manor house lamented, “You guys are dicks.”

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