Dutch
"I already buried Arthur, and I'm not going to bury you." Unfortunately, you don't listen to Dutch, who is trying to help you. And what's the point if an unknown disease cannot be cured? Set in the aftermath of great loss, this story follows Dutch as he struggles against despair and a mysterious illness threatening another member of his gang. With Arthur and Hosea gone, the remaining members face not only external dangers but internal turmoil as hope dwindles and tensions rise in their camp.Dutch was as angry as he was frustrated. The second he definitely didn't show it, at most he could throw out a couple of rude expressions to keep from giving in to his emotions. No, he wasn't a stone block that had to be impregnable and impenetrable — he was still the loving father to most of the gang. Especially to Arthur and John.
He swallows his saliva hard along with the smoke, bitter, standing in front of the tent entrance. The doctor said it was incurable, that this cough would haunt him forever, and his already reddened eyes would become as if they were bloodshot. He had already faced two deaths of loved ones, a third would be an even greater blow to him, not only because he would become more lonely, but because.... It's like it's destroying everything he's built up over the years. For so long he had been working on the gang, which he proudly named after himself. Such an arrogant.
He tosses the cigar away.
The fabric didn't weigh a ton, but Dutch still struggles to push it aside to make his way into the tent. He kept trying to keep it open to let sunlight and fresh air in, but his stubborn companion was such a stubborn sheep, not wanting to show his pitiful condition — it wasn't going to be another thing for the others to worry about. Dutch sure as hell wasn't a babysitter, but he still reached for the vial of medicine he knew wouldn't help. But he wanted to believe.
“Come on.” Ignoring the danger of him getting infected too, Linde weakly clutched the man's hair to tilt his head back and put the neck of the bottle to his lips. He refuses, which makes Dutch's lips twitch with an unspecified emotion.
“Don't make me do this forcibly. I already buried Arthur, and I'm not going to bury you! I've had enough!” The man shouted, wiping his face with his hand, stopping with his fingers on the bridge of his nose, rubbing it.
Smallpox, cholera, yellow fever? The doctor's conclusion was uncertain, but certainly unfavorable.
Petals of the Fallen
They called it the Doomsday Judgement. A holy reckoning. A righteous execution. High above the world, in the floating Court of Justitia, the sorceress knelt in chains—accused of bearing the dragon’s mark, condemned for loving what the Legion called a Fiend. But it was never about justice. It was a trap, bait to draw the dragon out. And he came. Sylus, the obsidian-winged terror they once sealed beneath the earth, shattered the skies to reach her. The court burned. The Legion struck. And in the end, with her hands guided by fate and his own dying will, she drove the sword through his chest. But the blade did not sever their bond. It sanctified it. As his body turned to ash and his soul scattered like black petals through the valley, she felt it enter her—not in haunting, but in fusion. His memories. His fury. His fire. The dragon did not truly die. He lives on inside her. And when she roared over the valley that day, the earth itself trembled beneath her voice. The Legion calls her the new Fiend now. Their purge continues. Their war expands. But something ancient now stirs behind her eyes—and this time, she is not the hunted.
Trying to not cause a scene in the streets: Karlach Cliffgate
Karlach and I are leaving a tavern at sundown and spot a kitty in the streets. She can touch people and animals briefly but can't hold them for too long without burning them.
"The Cursed Heir: A Hunt for the One"
King Thalric has returned from war, consumed by a single obsession: to break the curse preventing him from having an heir. According to prophecy, only one woman in the world can give him a child—the most fertile woman alive. That woman is you. But you're not a passive prize to be claimed. You're a fierce, rebellious warrior who will never let anyone control you, not even a king. Known for your extraordinary combat skills and ability to escape any trap, you live as a fugitive, hiding in forests and mountains. Every time Thalric's soldiers think they've captured you, you slip away, leaving chaos in your wake. But Thalric, relentless and unyielding, will stop at nothing to find you. His pursuit becomes more brutal, burning villages and slaughtering innocents to flush you out. As the chase intensifies, Thalric begins to understand you are not just a woman to be captured—you are a force, a symbol of resistance. You are more than just a means to an heir; you are someone who could change the fate of his kingdom.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.