The Dark One stared in abject horror, unsure how to proceed. To have watched such a young boy practically break his lower jaw apart just for three brown, sentient 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 crawl out from his throat... even the Dark One was scared.

"Well?! Aren't you going to do something," one of the trench coats asked.

"I believe he is in shock, brother," another replied.

"Then we shall kill him where he stands," the third proclaimed.

The third charged towards the Dark One, but before he could reach the evil man, he held up his hand and the three coats froze in place.

"Yeah... I need to take five," the Dark One informed them. "This is just... so, so wrong on so many levels."

"Face us now, you coward," the first coat shouted.

Rather than respond, the Dark One just walked off, ignoring the threats and comments made by three trench coats.

How were they even alive? How did they work? He was supposed to be a master at the magical arts, and yet here stood these monstrosities, and he had no clue as to what made these things. And how did they manage to disguise themselves as a human child?

For the first time in almost three millenia, the Dark One was confused, and truly disturbed.

Time takes a lot out of you, so when you've lived as long as I have it only becomes even more true by the day. I had seen a lot of things in the centuries that I have lived; witnessed whole kingdoms disappear to the wear of time, watched great leaders rise and fall. Some great ones fall to such meager things as illness or brain rot. Some petty men rise only because the latter had died.

I remembered names that even the books had since forgotten. Some that even I, in my position, would call great men. But this shit? I had never seen anything even near the realm of this.

When the little guy had first entered I thought it was a joke. Him take on me? My reign was ever eternal, ever night, while he was a 3 foot 2 manlet with a chin as soft as my thrones upholstery. So I humored the little guy. I mean, he had managed to make it passed my legionnaire, he at least deserved my speech.

You fool!" I had cackled, "No man can kill me!"

"But I am no man!" he bellowed in confidence, mouth unmoving. Which I thought was weird, but then the really strange shit started. He bent over, limp as a corpse, and started hacking up a lung. I watched frozen in horror as from his mouth a tan sleeve fell loose, then more and more of a coat until a whole impossibly large bundle of cloth was produced in a wad.

"Well that was rather distur-" I had yelled down

"But wait! Theres more!" he replied, and we sat five more minutes as he produced two more coats from his mouth before the halfling body fell in a loose pile of skin.

"For we are actually three trench coats in a halfling!" The coats announced as they unfurled and stood. I remember how proudly they said it, as if they'd done anything other than just disturb me for the rest of my years. Each one drew a weapon and held it in their limp sleeves ready to face me, but me? Oh, I got the hell out of there. I came straight here.

Across the room a skeleton wearing a broken pair of glasses looked to me with empty sockets. I felt silly on the couch again, but Burgees had been the best therapist in life and I needed him now more than ever.

"So, where are they now?" he asked with a voice like a strong wind.

I gestured to the door at the far wall, and behind it I could hear the sounds of those things. Those coats running around in my lair. One knocked on the door. "Are you in here evil doer? Come out and fight us!"

"No I'm not, so just...fuck off with you."

A long silence was the reply. Burgees adjusted his glasses with a bony hand.

"So do you have a plan?"

"Plan? Burgess I just saw some of the most fucked up shit in my life. I think im retired. Plus that old lady a few hundred years ago, remember her? She said I'd be defeated by men of the cloth at the time I thought she meant a priest or something, but this seems to be them."

"Oh...ok. I guess Ill go with you then." hearing him say that gave me a bit of comfort. Burgees had always been a loyal friend, and I'd need him for the next chapter of my life.

But suddenly I felt a sharp pain shoot through my stomach. Upon looking down a bloodied, thin piece of metal potruded from me, blood dripping down the blade. A rapier, pushed cleanly through me. Behind me the voice of a trenchcoat spoke. "Haha! Got you evildoer. You didn't even hear me come in did you!"

"Ho- how did you.." I pushed out the words through my pain.

"Slipped under the door! I bet you didn't expect that!" for emphasis the coat then yanked the rapier out from my stomach.

I looked over to the thin crack under the door where two more trenchcoats were pushing their way in. It was right. I had not noticed. One coat pulled Burgees down to his chair, strapping him in using its sleeves. I turned to face the other.

"Wha-what the fuck are you."

"Im glad you asked!" It leaned in close, placing a tan sleeve on my shoulder. The voice emanated from somewhere beneath the buttons. "We were three trenchcoats in a halfling, but now? Now I think we'll be three trenchcoats in an Evil Lord."

The coat climbed up my body, forcing open my clenched jaw with a sleeve. As I faded away the last thing I felt was the cloth choking me as it went down.

The Dark Lord’s first reaction was, surprisingly, mirth. He thought the heroes had simply misspoken. Three halflings in a trench coat was an uncommon archetype, but nothing he’s never heard of.

As such, imagine the simultaneous mix of revulsion and fascination that welled from within him, like a snowball so yellow that it passed the invisible, but commonly agreed-on valley of distaste right into the hellish depths of morbid curiosity.

The three trench coats were utterly drenched with sticky fluids, smelling like something fishy that had been left to dry in the sun and then promptly forgotten about. They were black. Or at least, the Dark Lord hoped they were black, and not some colour that has since been dyed improperly.

The halfling that once stood before him bravely was now sprawled on the ground, his jaw in a state that can only be described as too open. The chest heaved and ho, indicating a modicum of life still inside him.

The Dark Lord, who had a gigantic god complex since he was little, then chose to invoke a blasphemous name in his complete shock.

“What in god’s name is this abomination?”

The trench coats stood. Sat. Laid? Somehow, they were upright with nothing to support them. One collar started flapping incessantly.”

“We are trench coats,” a muffled voice came through the middle coat. “Fairly common around these parts.”

“I’m sorry, but I am physically convulsing from the sheer, visceral disgust, like thousands of bugs crawling about in my bloodstream—which, trust me, is a torture so horrendous that I’ve kindly elected to keep it out of my personal torture dungeon,” the Dark Lord gagged. “Talking trench coats. Hacked from a halfling’s poor, undersized throat. And you call yourself common?”

“Hey,” the right coat complained. “Don’t bring race into this. We’ve had a hard time trying to make others take us seriously.”

“Race?” the Dark Lord whispered, bewildered. “You are—”

“You are deliberately misunderstanding the point, Dark Lord!” the middle coat shouted again, to vigorous collar flaps from the other two. “We are no men! And we are here to take you down!”

“Trench coats,” the Dark Lord shook his head. “I don’t see how you can…”

The coats started trudging towards him, the bottom of their floating coats barely swishing the floors. The Dark Lord was prepared to simply laugh, then burn every bit of thread up with the strongest fireballs he could muster.

Which he did. He was a powerful being. It came with being named the Dark Lord. It took a certain amount of prestige and ability to simply being known by a sole title that no one else dared to claim.

The trench coats, unfortunately, could not stand against fire that sprouted from every which where, hotter than the average hellfire pillar. The Dark Lord would know—the devil often tried to obtain this very spell for himself.

But as the coats burned, the Dark Lord had the audacity to breathe in deeply, in preparation for a solid sigh of satisfaction.

The smell had spread. Even the choking ash paled in comparison. What wafted through the air now was something so pungent that it would have killed a lesser man.

In the Dark Lord’s case, he stumbled to grab hold of a nearby pillar. He struggled against the innate desire to breathe deeply, in order to prevent himself from drowning from the inhuman odour that now spread across the room.

That day, the Dark Lord did not die.

But he gained a new nightmare. Something which no hero had ever done before.

And he realized—sometimes, even gods can cry themselves to sleep in a room filled with lavender incense to drown out the smelly memories.

r/dexdrafts

I apologize, Power Delete Suite was overzealous and deleted recent comments, including this one I posted earlier today. I am not sure why, and I think I need to switch to a new system.

 

#####Not a man

"By the gods, what in the name of holy hell am I looking at?" muttered the Dark One.

"RUDE!" said the Classic Cotton Blend, "I'll have you know that's no way to speak to a lady."

The Dark One raised an eyebrow, "You're… female? I had no idea."

The Classic Cotton Blend recoiled at the insult, weeping. Her brother, the Leather Duster roared, "Foul fiend! I see you're skilled at psychological attacks, but that won't work on me. En garde!"

The coat billowed in the formless wind, gripping the rapier by the pommel with its sleeve. Startled, the Dark One stumbled backwards, taking a gashing wound to his side.

"No, wait, hold on a minute." The massive demon wreathed in shadows desperately fended off the quick burst of sword swipes from the leather apparition, "How the hell are you doing this?"

"We hid ourselves in that cowardly halfling for this moment!" In a sudden movement, the Leather Duster dropped his sword and wore himself around the Dark One like a tailored suit, immediately restraining him. "Brother! Do it!" He flapped his lapels at the last sibling, a long Pea Coat.

It was operating a 5 foot long sniper rifle.

"?!?!" The Dark One stammered visibly confused, glancing between the three trench coats and the 3 foot tall halfling who was still groaning, "Where the hell did you even keep that?!"

"You'll get shot, brother! I can't!" He hesitated, keeping the duo in his sights as they struggled.

"It's our only chance!"

The Pea Coat grimaced and fired. A thundering boom ripped through the grand chamber as a .50 caliber punctured the Dark One's torso and exited out the Leather Duster's back. The great fiend clutched the gaping hole in his chest and fell to his knees motionless.

"Brother!" The Classic Cotton Blend rushed over and pulled out a sewing kit, but the gunshot had eviscerated whole strips of leather.

"We… did it.." He said, releasing his grip on the Dark One, he no longer had the strength to wear himself tightly around the massive ogre.

The long Pea Coat set his rifle down and slowly drifted forward, putting a sleeve on his sister's shoulders, "It had to be done." She wept while desperately attempting to stitch him back together.

The hunched body of the Dark One shuddered and the two trench coats backed away in shock, "...Hahaha!!"

"You're… you're not dead? Impossible! My bullet went straight through your heart!"

"HAHAHA!! Do you still not understand? No man may defeat me. You think my magic is some foolishness bound by species or gender? Elves, halflings, humans, men, women, even children challenge me all the time." He ripped the ragged garment off his back, "This one proved his manliness by sacrificing himself. And you proved yours by doing what was necessary no matter the cost." The wounds in his side and chest were already closing. "You will never win, for I am IMMOR-"

A small dagger was stuck between the Dark One's eyes and he reached for it confused, before falling over dead. The three coats turned towards the source: a trembling half naked halfling who had just tripped while attempting to flee. He looked up, shrieked, and curled into a ball.

"Huh." The Pea Coat tapped the Dark One. He didn't move.

The Leather Duster laughed despite his injuries, "I suppose the moral is to never explain how your magic works."

 

A/N - What the hell did I just write.

A/N2 - an earlier deleted comment: the pea coat was originally a mage, but I thought "pea coats are way too slick and suave, he's got to be a SNIPER, yeah that'll work"

/r/Unexpected_Works

[deleted]

"Oh, no! I am defeated!" declared the Dark One, immediately disappearing into a puff of smoke.

Because obviously, no one could stand against the power of three trench coats in a halfling.

The three trench coats, now separated from their disguise, looked around in bewilderment.

"Well," said one, "I guess that wraps that up."

"But what do we now?" asks another.

"Well... We rule, of course," answered the third.

The three trench coats looked at each other, which is to say, each of their collars pointed in the general direction of the other two, which was, for them, quite significant.

Each coat waited for one of the others to propose an idea.

After a period of time no less than thirty seconds and no more than thirty minutes, a voice whispered to them from the shadows, "um, excuse me, sirs, but there's an untamed rabble outside the palace gates, would one of you care to take power in order to subdue them?"

"Of course!" declared the first trench coat.

"Naturally!" cried the second.

"Well... " shouted the third (social nuances were not his strong suit).

Immediately, the three trench coats looked at each other with suspicion, knowing that all three could not simultaneously take control of the situation.

"I will quell this rebellion!" declared the first, unsheathing his sword, and leading the Knights of the Castle into battle. And a fearsome battle it was, with much blood shed, and when it was over, neither Knight nor trench coat returned to the castle.

The next day, the second trench coat set forth with his army of bowmen, and declared that he would suppress the rebellion.

They unleashed a fearsome volley of arrows from the castle walls, and another, and another, until finally, the enemy climbed up the walls on their ladders, and they were too much for the archers, and both the archers and the second trench coat fell.

And then there remained one trench coat, the weakest of them all, and he prayed for salvation. He prayed for hope, prayed that someone would come to save them, prayed that someone, anyone, would come to defeat the hordes.

And he heard a whisper in his ear, talk to them, and the third trench coat was given courage, and he went to speak to the masses.

And he offered them peace. And he offered them freedom. And he told them that each would be equal to the other.

And the people listened and agreed and put down their weapons. And they declared the third trench coat as their leader.

And the Dark One laughed.

The pile of clothing promptly collapsed, no longer under whatever magical or mechanical ability gave it sentience.

The Dark One, confused, slowly walked up and nudged the coats with his foot. "What? What was the point? How was this supposed to kill me? How did you even do this?" he asked the halfling.

"Oh god, help me, I haven't eaten in months." the halfling moaned.

"That just raises even more questions!" the Dark One yelled! He threw his hands up in the air, turned to storm back towards his throne, and tripped over a limp sleeve, impaling himself on a decorative spike.

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"But we-"

"No. I am not doing this."

"Erm..." the trench coats glanced at each other, confused.

"I'd thought...." Joan said, pinching her nose. She could feel her anger rising. "Do you know how long you have to study, to get into a position like this?!"

"We-"

"It's a long fucking time!" she screamed, voice echoing down the empty hall. "This is an insult. No. I am not doing this."

This was a disgrace. This was...

"You hear me!" She said, turning and yelling at the ceiling. "Do your fucking job. This..." she said, gesturing to the trench coats "I am not doing this. No. Fuck you!"

The trench coats stared, awkwardly.

"Umm..." trench coat 3 asked, tentatively "...are you...okay?"

"Stop talking."

"But-"

"I said shut it three!"

Mercifully the trench coat seemed to do just that, but not before mumbling something along the lines of "I have a name you know..."

She took a deep breath.

"Sorry." She admitted. It's not your fault."

The trench coat seemed slightly reassured.

"What... what is your name?"

"Oh right." It said, startled "It's Wallace."

"Why is a trench coat called Wallace?"

"I don't know." It said, shrugging "That's just what I'm called."

"Stop flirting with the enemy!" The far left trench coat hissed.

"I'm just being polite." Wallace hissed back.

"To be honest..." the one in the middle said "...I sort of agree with Oli, here."

"I wasn't flirting!"

"Am I...needed for this?"

The trench coats seemed to remember that she was there.

"We-"

"Actually. Don't answer that. I'm done."

And with that, the witch of scourges, the ender of the ice-paints, weilder of the black staff, drinker of the soup of knowledge, dissolved into nothing, ending a million years of turmoil and rule as the diamond volcanic ash that comprised her body scattered in the palace winds.

The Dark One stood frozen, staring at the three trench coats posing atop a folded shell of a Halfling. The Dark One shouted with a half-enraged, half-disgusted tone

“Wha- what is the meaning of this!?”

Cotton, a long tan single-breasted trench coat, replied confidently.

“This is the end of your reign, old man!”

“Yeah, old man!” Echoed Cashmere, a medium length double breasted trench coat. “Tell him Linen!”

Linen appeared from behind Cotton, revealing himself to be a meek grey Pea Coat rather than a true trench coat himself. His sleeves shuddered as he looked upon The Dark One. In his best heroic voice, he proclaimed:

“It’s over Dark One! The prophecy shall come to pass!”

“The prophecy?” The Dark One regained his composure. He chuckled to himself. “Lumis!” He shouted, manifesting a brilliant light to illuminate the walls of the room and display his vast collection of intricate tapestries.

“Foolish halflin- trench coat…s? Foolish Heroes! This is every prophecy I have ever received! My rise to power, the war on the Alderam kingdom, even the attempted coup led by my former lover, and the only prophecy yet to be fulfilled is my ascension to immortality. How you managed to even make it this far without that knowledge is beyond me.” He strode to his throne and sat down. “I’ll admit, you gave me quite the shock with that halfling stunt, it was impressively repulsive to be honest. Alas, it’s time you three depart.” He grimaced and began chanting.

Cotton called the trench coats to action:

“Cashmere, protection! Linen, counter-spell!”

Cashmere cast a barrier spell around the trio, allowing Cotton to lead a forward charge. Linen followed in back whilst chanting an incantation, summoning an array of ethereal purple spikes above them.

The Dark One finished his chanting, and flicked his wrist in a gesture towards the textile trio. Immediately, a massive fireball consumed the roof and barreled down at them. To the Dark One’s surprise the array of spikes summoned by the little Pea Coat, Linen, swirled violently into the fireball. Both spells dissipated harmlessly as a result, and moonbeams shone down through the fiery hole left in the ceiling.

“What?”

The Dark One looked at the scene before him and felt it was oddly familiar. His mind flashed with hundred of memories as he mindlessly cast a torrent of spells, confident that at least one spell would break the invader’s defenses. He came to a realization.

“The prophecy?”

Cotton, Linen and Cashmere struggled as they fended off the torrent of offensive magic. Nonetheless they pushed ever forward towards the Dark One.

“The prophecy…”

The Dark One recalled the tapestry of his last remaining unfulfilled prophecy. Red background with gold stitching. The scene depicted the Dark One sat on his throne, the throne room roofless and engulfed in flames. Sat in his throne surrounded by gore, the Dark One consumed a garment as two others watched in horror, arms stretched upwards.

“It can’t be!” He exclaimed.

The Dark One ceased his fire, bellowing “Stop!” The textile trio stopped in their tracks, feet from the throne. He laughed uproariously, declaring “You FOOLS! ‘The Prophecy shall come to pass’ indeed! He threw an arm out and gripped the collar of Cotton. Pulling the trench coat closer to himself he saw Linen and Cashmere throw their arms into the air. The Dark One opened his mouth wide, and Cotton stuffed their sleeve into his throat. His confusion grew upon hearing the other two shout “Yippee!” “We did it!”

The Dark One stopped halfway through consuming the sleeve of the coat. His eyes widened and he glanced at the tapestry once more, illuminated by firelight. The throne was surrounded in gore. He felt the arm of the coat begin to grip something within him, and pull.

Cotton shouted “We got him boys!” And began the process of hollowing out the Dark Lord’s body. “We’re gonna be the Dark One!”

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