Blessing and a Curse

The reverberation of the church bells rang across the entire kingdom. The pounding rhythm of the large golden bells located at the very center of the walled sprawling city echoed the pounding hearts of all those in attendance.

A grand declaration had been made. A prophecy declaring the coming of The Hero to save mankind from the scourge that is the Demons had been revealed. The news had sparked the entire kingdom into a frenzy.

All were in attendance. Mingled amongst each other were royals, nobles, adventurers, and even peasants hoping to hear the glorious news directly. Priests in their sacred garbs brought forth the scroll containing the prophecy as it had been foreseen for the people to see and know the identity of The Hero.

Across the Cathedral halls and spilling into streets outside, a proclamation was unfurled with rumbling power.

“When darkness and light clash for the final time,

A hero shall rise and cease all wars.

From his bloodline, destiny is forged.

And to the one named Richard, he shall be born.”

Sheer silence befalls the masses before confused murmurs spark throughout those gathered.

“Is that it?”

“Aren’t there any more specifics?”

“Who the hell is Richard?”

Luckily, the answer to that question was quickly known to all attentive adventurers in attendance. A rumble emerged from the back wall where the hors d'oeuvres were arranged. And suddenly a man was hurled from the crowd and landing unceremoniously on his ass with a thud.

Rising to his feet and rubbing his posterior, he cursed silently under his breath as he shot his fellow adventurers an enraged glare. All eyes locked solely on his pudgy figure held up with lanky legs, his messy pompadour unkempt and spiky, his pockets stuffed to near bursting with the finger foods designated for all.

“Richard, I presume?” The high priest asked from atop his altar above the disheveled former adventurer. The dubious furrow of his brow resonated the feeling of all witnessing the spectacle unfolding before them.

“Yeah, who’s asking?” The adventurer brushed off the crumbs from his beer belly then went to crack his back without looking at the exasperated priest in the slightest.

The white hair clergyman grimaced at the sight before him before looking out over the gathered assembly.

“Is there seriously no one else in this entire Kingdom named Richard?” He called out desperately into the holy halls, echoes ringing out in trepidation.

One lone voice rose up from the far back with a waving hand, “I’m Ricardo!”

A glimmer twinkled in the old priest’s eyes with a grin spreading his cheeks wide as he rechecked the scrawled prophecy. Beads of frustrated sweat rippled over his brow. “No, It specifically says ‘Richard’…”

No other voice answered back, excluding a defeated, “Oh…”

“Seriously?” The high priest’s voice trembled, “No one?”

The silence was deafening.

That was until a surge of adventurers –the same one to toss Richard on his ear– lifted him up high and began parading him around, chanting nonsensically “Richard, our hero at last!” The entirety of the crowd watched on completely perplexed at the spectacle unfolding before them. Only through hushed whispers did they murmured to each other.

“This man is going to father the hero?”

Richard for one was equally perplexed by the turn in his fate. He had initially fought against his fellow adventurers raising him up onto their shoulders, but soon he was chanting along with them.

“Go, Me! Go, Me, Go!”

As the ragtag group of adventurers continued to party around him, the gathered mass subtly moved along the edges of the hall, avoiding being swept up unnecessarily in their frantic frivolities. One priest asked another in all earnest, “Do you think God will let us reroll for this one?”

But in Richard’s mind he wasn’t celebrating for the sake of something so stupid as the promised hero, nor even the safety of all mankind.

There was only one thing bouncing around in that empty skull of his like how his pompadour bounced up and around with his friend’s cheering.

“I am finally getting laid!”

As the adventurers took their party from the church through the streets to the tavern on the edge of town, blissful fantasy played out over his eyes. A procession of beauties lining up as far as the eye can see. They were all women from each of his fantasies. The shy guild secretary with big round glasses, the flirtatious tavern made with her hair pulled up so he can see the nape of her neck, the farmer girl with her strong muscles and ample figure. Even his school teacher from when he was little was there, holding the paddle he remembered fondly being patted in her hand.

And each one of them were there solely to just have a chance at carrying the hero. And more importantly, having intimate relations with him.

To put it simply, Richard was in heaven.

As he was set at a seat of honor at the head of the long table at the tavern, Richard proudly puffed up his chest, imagining how “gracefully” (his word, not mine) he would choose his perfect bride from his many suitors.

***

After one month, a group of adventures returned with a bountiful hunt. Among them was Garret, a strong and resilient man of great reputation. His face is strong yet full of kindness and warmth. As he thanked his fellow adventurers in the tavern who welcomed him back he had only one question.

“Is Richard still here?”

A swell of stifled laughter rippled through the wooden halls. No one wanted to make fun of their friend, but they couldn’t help themselves as they pointed at the sad sack still sitting in the chair from a month ago.

“No bites?” Garret patted his best friend’s shoulder. The best friend in question, Richard was slumped over the table with a wooden pint clenched tightly in one hand and tears streaming down his unshaved cheeks. His pompadour droops low with him, missing its once poofy vitality.

“Garret!” blubbered as he threw his pint into the air and hugged his friend around the chest. “Imb curdsed! No won lobs me! No wobman will eber toudch me agen.”

“So no change, I see,” Garret chuckled and tried to pry the simpering man off him, “stop wiping your snot on me.”

It took several minutes to get Richard to the point where he could speak clearly, but Garret listened carefully as the former adventurer recounted his plight.

“Since the day the curse was announced in the church, every woman has avoided me like the plague!”

“It’s pronounced prophecy, but go on…”

“No matter what I did, I was told the same thing…”

It was perfectly obvious to everyone, but Richard of course, when the prophecy was revealed. Everyone was looking forward to the coming of a great Hero, the one like ones that dotted history with great deeds and achievements. But each one had a common thread to their story.

A Hero would only start his journey to greatness with one single inciting incident. The call to action was always the untimely death of his still young mother that would spur him on to glory. And with that in mind, it was easy to see why every woman in the world had the same reaction to him.

“I don’t want to die young!” As they dropped whatever they had in hand and ran to the hills in terror.

And that wasn’t the only place he struck out. He was blacklisted from every matchmaker in the kingdom within 24 hours of his realization of his situation. No woman wanted to be with him, and no one wanted to help him. Bad for business.

“Women won’t even walk on the same side of the street as me! I watched one run in front of a speeding cart to get away. One told me that by just touching my hand she was going to get pregnant! And she did that while smacking me repeatedly with her purse!”

“I didn’t know that was still a gag?”

“I was even tossed out of a brothel by bouncers for just trying my luck there.” Richard cried into his new pint at the bar, “How did they even know it was me? My disguise was flawless!”

“Your disguise was a fake mustache and glasses… of course it didn’t work,” Garret sighed while massaging the bridge of his nose.

He had even tried to plead his case to any female who would willingly listen to him. “The Hero’s mother doesn’t always die young right? They occasionally live to a ripe old age, right?”

That perked the ear of a passing scholar, one with thick glasses and buck teeth, “Ackshually, the Hero’s mother always dies. It’s quite well documented.”

“Can it, nerd, before I can you,” Richard grumbled under his breath before turning back to see the women he was begging were now nowhere in sight.

“I guess it’s true,” Garret patted Richard’s back reassuringly, “you really are cursed.”

“At least they ran out of rotting vegetables to throw at me to shoo me away.”

“They threw rotting tomatoes at you?”

“No, stupid” Richard cut his eyes, “Everyone knows tomatoes are fruits now. They threw rotting pumpkins at me.”

“That’s somehow worse and more impressive at the same time.”

Richard only slammed his head against the bar making the whole room jump as he wailed. “My life is ruined.”

The entire room erupted in laughter, a voice rising above the roar, “At least you're guaranteed to have a legacy, pal!”

Richard chugs his pity beer, finding not even pity love thrown his way.

An amber sunset burned on the horizon as he looked out from the swing in the park he rested at as he tried to sober up from his day drinking. The park was empty, the mothers urgently ushering their young daughters away while shooting dirty looks at him. Richard shot a drunkenly dirty look back. Come on, he was desperate, but not that bad off. He liked women, not children.

But there he sat alone, slouched in the swing as he wallowed in self-pity.

“Is this really it? Am I really going to die alone?”

Is this some sort of divine retribution for giving up so early in life?

“I’ll do it”

A voice shattered Richard’s pity party instantly, “I’ll do it,” the words were sweetly soft on his depressed heart, “I will be the one to carry the Hero.”

A tear nearly rolled down Richard’s dirt stained cheek as he realized his fate had once been saved. Wincing in joy he wiped his eyes to better look at the woman who would be his wife soon. Turning to see who spoke, a wide grin broke over his worn face.

Beside him was a vision of absolute beauty. Swing gently back and forth in the next swing was a slender lady with a look that every woman wishes she could obtain. Dark tanned skin that sparkled in the fading twilight, soft supple lips moist with a purple lip gloss, even sharp eyes that shone like freshly cut amethyst. Her silvery hair radiated a violet sheen as it flowed behind her as she swung.

But that was not only the only thing surprising about her. For one, her sheer height. Though she was sitting down next to Richard, she was easily two heads taller than him. And just as obviously as that, there were two large obsidian horns that sprouted from the sides of her head like bulls horns. They glinted in the glow of sunset.

“Uh… huh?”

Richard’s frazzled and intoxicated brain short-circuited, the beauty beside him could have sworn she could see smoke billowing out of his ears.

“Let’s try this again,” standing upright to her full height, she strolled forward and struck a confident pose before him, one hand on her hip and her feet spread in a strong stance. Her long black train of her cape fluttered about behind her like black flames licking upward. “I am the Demon Lord, Morrigan Velkris. And you, you are the one destined to father the Hero of Humanity, correct?” She pointed one long fingernail tipped mauve towards him.

“Uh… yeah?” Richard answered in the same confused cadence.

“Then I shall be the one to bear the Hero for you.”

Processing error. Richard.exe has failed successfully. Press “OK” to continue.

“I-I think I misheard you. It sounded like you said you want to have my baby?”

Only a confident nod was her reply as a wicked grin curled on her lips, “You didn't mishear.”

“Uh… why?”

She lifts her hand to cover her evil cackle, “Simple really,” she explained matter-of-factly, “A Hero will always be just and righteous, correct? He shall never do anything untoward his mother, being a good and decent son for his entire life, correct? If I am the Hero’s mother, then he will have to listen to me. He shall never strike me down.”

Richard nodded along to the lesson with a dopey look on his face, though he had no idea what she was even talking about.

“And I shall reign forever!” Morrigan reeled back and announced her victory to darkening skies. “It’s the perfect plan. The prophecy is fulfilled with the birth of the Hero, but no harm shall come my way! HAHAHA!!!”

But across from the maniacally laughing giant of a woman was Richard, who’s gears still haven’t even begun turning yet. But then a spark flicked a switch somewhere deep inside of him.

“Wait! Are you saying we’d have… you know…” Richard desperately searched for the right words, as he nervously poked his index fingers together, “…do the thing? The nighttime wrestling? The sideways tango.”

“Yes, of course.”

“The no-pants dance? The two-person push-ups? The ole chimney sweeping? The-” Richard kept his eyes locked on the Demon’s shadow as nervous sweat began to pour buckets from every pore as he continued to name off even more euphemisms.

“You ok, buddy?” Morrigan grimaced looking down at the pathetic excuse for a stud falling apart before her.

Richard’s body began to shake involuntarily. That was until he felt warm hands locking around his cheeks forcing him to look up at the devious grin meeting his gaze. “Yes, and not only that,” She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “but every night too.”

The flabby former adventurer sprung to his feet and quickly locked his hands on the Demon Lord’s clawed hands, shaking them vigorously in agreement, “Deal!”