“Has the ever-enveloping Vision of Vishkantu emblazoned your physical form with the radiant fury of ten thousand exploding ions, or are you simply preparing to dissolve my body into component ions?”
“Good heavens, that cloak would look fantastic lying on the floor of the fifteenth level of Morkeleb the Black’s treasure-room.”
“The Fortress of Eternal Darkness may have been taken, but I’M still available!”
“Want to go out for a drink of Oil of Etherealness?”
“…Potion of Rapid Decalcification?”
“…Balm of Limb Removal?”
“Elixir of Demi-Lich Attraction?”
“…a nice dinner of Hobbit?”
“Want to rearrange the Alphabet of AshKente and put the Ineffable Bruise-Sign of the Dread Makumbi next to the soul-sucking Rune of the Lemurian Undergods? And also, we could possibly share an ice cream soda?”
“I’m lost. Could you give me directions through the treacherous Labyrinth whose unsleeping living statuary guard the key to your heart?”
“Are you a Necromancer? Because when I look at you, it’s like everything else disappears and I know the unending blackness and eerie silence of the Grave.”
“Do you want to reach Heaven tonight? Because I’ve got an entire army of Hellbusters and they’re ready to kick some angel butt.”
“They say Love is a numbers game. Roll D20.”
“Is that a Staff of Extremely Misfortunate Erotic Encounters in your cloak, or are you simply attempting to steal my familiar?”
“I’m not a stone golem, you just make me feel like one. Or at least, you really make me remember that I’m only animate because of this holy word on my forehead. Wait, why are you reaching for that eraser?”
“You must be a Sorceress. Because any time I look at you, everyone else disappears. One-fifth of the human race has already vanished. The rest won’t hold out much longer.”
“Hey, can I contribute my body to your next blood sacrifice?”
“You just took my breath away. I hope this telepathy is reaching your prefrontal lobe, because I’m turning blue.”
“Are you a broom? Because you’ve swept me off my feet, gathered up my terrified body holding on desperately to your handle, and now I’m flying over the endless Ocean waiting for you to get tired and drop me.”
“Did it hurt when you fell from the stars? Or are you destroying the stars for some other reason?”
“I’ve brought an Unholy Lexicon of Hominex in an effort to understand what strange and nigh-ineffable terror you instill in the parts of my heart which want someone to share an IRS-longform with on some cozy April evening. You want to go halfsies on an LLC?”
My name is Jeff Mach (“Dark Lord” is optional) and I build communities, put on events, and make stories come into being. I also tweet a lot over @darklordjournal. Check out Wonderplace Alpha.
