Speaking of Demon Swords

If those exists, there's probably a census category for them. Gonna want to keep track of that for sure.

Oft Overlooked Tendency in Pre-Modern Societies

In most times, in most places, and in most stories, people gave or exchanged presents. Often. Even when they maybe shouldn't have, what with all the curses and such. When writing fantasy, try to remember the last time one of your characters gave another something.

Intervention of the Dungeon Sage

Calamity! There was no other word for it outside of synonyms. Dozens of miners were trapped below, and worse than that, the mine might not resume operations for years. Owners and managers could do nothing but stand apart and compete in frowning.
"Pardon me." Normally people gawked without introducing themselves, but one look at this man precluded any idea he could be normal. "I came to investigate the new dungeon. Is that it over there?"
"Dungeon Sage Hesperno!"
"I suppose a mine could be used as a dungeon . . ."
"Please use your magic to make a stable new opening! And save the miners if it's convenient. Don't forget the opening, please!"
"If they're on the way. So that is the new dungeon?" Receiving confirmation, the sage advanced and, using proprietary techniques, descended. Within the day awed miners began emerging. Not more than a week later, Hesperno came out, wiped his hands, and sought the nearest owner.
"I've cleared everything out. Thank you for the nice dungeon. I liked the sorcerer-slug that was sinking curses into all the ore. It was different."
"The what?"
"It was a little exotic but not self-indulgent. Goodbye. I'll come back after you've expanded it some."
And so it transpired.
Finis

Addendum

And powerful spells are confined within gourds and gain nourishment from them. Beware the decay! Fruit have their own magic, and the learned understand that worms were the first to form power into curses, and they consult them when inventing something new to injure a rival or neutralize a hex.

The Sage and the Exacting Dart

The people implored Grudge Sage Tudin to apply his prodigious knowledge of curses toward allaying their fright at the terrible beast. He was neither unwilling nor incapable.
"The cost however is inestimable," he told them as he explained the terrible armaments he had devised at their request. "Each of these darts makes its demand upon life itself if used, reducing by one the span of years . . ." There he swirled and pointed. "Of that man in particular."
"Such a sacrifice!"
"Why him and not the thrower?"
"We will support your family, sir! Be sure of that."
The whirl of relief and regret failed to rustle the indicated man. "Is this over the fence, Tudin? You didn't come up with this in a month."
"In any case," Tudin continued, "as grim as the matter is, we must ask my dear neighbor Iswar . . ."
"Pay me one dart of a like size in solid gold for each expended and I won't object," the victim declared. The people praised his sacrificing spirit. The monster, meanwhile, suffered what they hoped. It met its death rather sooner than one year per dart, or perhaps exactly as fast, since Tudin impelled several dozen of his cruel missiles, most of them after the thing lay still.
The people anticipated a lavish funeral for the richest man in the region at which they might compete to deliver the most moving eulogy, Grudge Sage Tudin most of all. They continued to anticipate it till the release of the scholarly tract I Discovered the Undying Secret and Here It Is: I Have Known It for Years but I Wanted to Work Out a Curse That Prevents Grudge Sage Tudin From Reading This Explanation Before I Published It by Eternity Sage Iswar.
Finis

Telote's Saga

The custom of the kings over the Wilse was to invite to their weddings the hero Yitgand who had aided their ancestor in taking the kingship. Telait first ended the custom, saying Yitgand was surely dead as was everyone else who roamed alongside his grandfather's grandfather's father, and none blamed him for that except one.
For during the feast a man thrust himself into the hall who had greatness in both his stature and his age more than any could believe. He rebuked King Telait, saying that forgetting one man was nothing, but since he had remembered, he must have forgotten valor and honor instead. He then foretold that the issue of that wedding would be good for little, that it was a shame, and that it was no curse from him who was Yitgand but simply a sign of the age.
All went as he said. The king's son Telote's hands did not seek the sword or know what to do with one, nor did he have wit in counsel or speech. The king said he would reward the man who could rear him better. Yitgand came again, saying he doubted the result but had never shirked a challenge on that account. He had charge of Telote from then on.
Telait's son cast off his sluggishness and killed a hero shortly after, when he was twelve years of age. He followed that with countless deeds of bravery and open-handedness so that his enemies feared him more than shame while his friends were outnumbered only by men seeking his friendship. After he took the scepter from Telait's quavering hand he did still more. Every king whose ancestors paid the Wilse tribute did so again, and many were forced to it for the first time.
When Telote made up his mind to take a wife, he refused to bring back the custom, saying that he remembered valor well enough but disliked Yitgand for his harshness and odor. The wedding passed in peace. Yitgand said of it that the king's reasons were as good as any he ever heard and worthy of a bold man.
Finis

The True Difference Between Fantasy and Science Fiction

People suffer from a curse in the former, while in the latter, populations exhibit a syndrome. Am I saying it's just the number of syllables? Yes I am.

Addendum

Just because something doesn't get much current discussion doesn't mean it can't curse you. This is general life advice.

The Curse of Traditional Knowledge

These days, if you ever say "larboard," people will presume you have a speech impediment. That can be handy sometimes, but be honest: You sometimes think those dullards need to be controlled by someone like you, don't you? Then, when you search for rebuttals, you realize there are none. Well, that's all true, but it's not as if you can do anything about it. Not till you level up a few times at least.

Secret of Peregrine Platform

A single tug was enough. The line shot up, up, and up, nearly the entire height of the tower to deliver the snared fish to the tower's master, Crime Sage Rykel.
"A promising trial, but you're a bit small," he told the fish as he unhooked it. He dropped it so that it fell neatly in the little pond he had created for the experiment, not out of mercy but as a demonstration of skill. "Now I need only take over the Peregrine Platform and hover it over some filled pockets."
The Peregrine Platform was one name. Every region had its term for the strange object which traveled through the sky without evident purpose. Never had anyone boarded it so far as was known, but in no previous era had Rykel lived. With consummate technique he made use of a catapult to lob a likeness of himself aboard and then used his magic. As easily as that, he and the figure swapped places.
From there he moved to take control of it, but what was it? He discovered then that what men had long seen from below was the foundation of a grand mausoleum. Reasoning the source of power likeliest lay in the center, he approached the great portal, but he was not welcome there. Curses buffeted him and were repelled by skills that were eldritch, modern, and wholly his own. He reached for the door but saw it recede before him in an impossible movement he arrested with his guard-freezing spells, and the doom of death which fell on those who dared enter the ancient tombs shattered one of his twelve statues in his tower. Hostile forces opposed every step, but for nothing. He reached the center and purified it with borrowed holy power.
"Great sage!" A ghost appeared, which was nothing unexpected. "You have freed the kings of the Sky Tombs of Ganceras from our travails! Ages ago, we were overcome by the death-wizards of Alaonir and trapped as fuel for their magic, aware but impotent. Our fury however had its own force and struck continuously their lands, and does so still. Now we are released, and we release too the Alaonir Plain."
Rykel swapped with his effigy, leaving it to take the fall from the Sky Tombs which were even then dissolving. "My purse-fishing plan, ruined! But it must have been the Ullonik Curse-Storm that he meant. If that is truly gone, a route undiscovered by security is opened to the Eight-Tiger Vault. Off I go!" The kings of Ganceras watched him and rejoiced that the world yet had such sages in it. They departed then, and what befell them is not for mortals to know, but about the Vault and that the Crime Sage failed to rob it, all men learned it later.
Finis

The Cursed Voyage of the Ancient King

"Preserve our heritage!" "Save our king!"
Protestors stuffed the streets, they stuffed the waterfront and the piers. The supervisors and bureaucrats in charge of moving the mummy to the ship and away shook their heads and said they would try again later, knowing the futility of it. The protestors did not disperse before the sun's rays did. Even then they left sentinels.
Every protestor who went home fell promptly into a satisfied sleep, and every one had that sleep disturbed. They dreamed together of an empty chamber, bare but for a terrible presence too noble for eyes belonging to people of their sort to resolve into a person. "A curse," the figure proclaimed. "A curse on all who interrupt my vacation. An unyielding curse!"

* * * * *

"Preserve our leisure!" "Save our king's plans!"
Protestors stuffed the side of the streets, they formed lines to the pier. The supervisors and bureaucrats acquiesced to their demands to move the mummy posthaste, wholly mystified.
Finis

Olko's Space Saga

It was upon returning from the successful sack of the facility on Proteus that a certain asteroid caught the attention of Olko. "That asteroid there, what fame does it have?"
"None at all, Olko," told him the other rocket barbarians.
"I will give it some by my visit then," he said, veering off, and his fellows laughed behind him and continued on their way.
Olko inspected the surface with a plunder-seeking eye and found a tunnel that was no more natural than peace. Deeper he penetrated into the asteroid and found within a belt troll's home.
"Go on your way," the troll told him. "Go on your way and live a bit longer."
"The rule I took up the moment I left atmosphere," Olko answered, "was to leave with something new in hand and never without."
"You want treasure, but I will give you a new way to follow your rule. You will leave with your teeth in your hand if you are stout, and if you are frail, I will send you on your way with a push, your body that is."
The combat began. The troll was passing strong and his thermal claws tremendous in their might, but Olko had his pile bunker which had pierced rockets in flight and comets on their path. The troll breathed out his life with these words.
"Go then with your treasure. It is below. Take the cursed ship Ringtaker, seize all the plunder you like, and revel in what you will pay for it! Ha!"
"A troll's last prophecy is ever true, but I will not shrink." Olko flew forth from the troll-hangar at the controls of such a ship as must terrorize a hundred moons, and did.
Finis

The Shepherd and the Egg

Once there was a shepherd who had fallen into lamentable poverty. He could barely do his job in the end, weakened by hunger as he was. Then, one day, he came across an egg unlike any other he had seen, for it was of many colors and shone as if made of gold. What more need be said? He cracked the egg with his crook, or tried to. It resisted his feeble first strike.
"Here is my second strike," he said, and struck it again. The egg wobbled.
"This is my third strike!" Summoning all the strength he had, the shepherd shouted and brought down his staff on the shell, which shattered. He hurried to collect as much of the egg as he could, but much soaked the ground. Sad, he sat down to eat, and as his sheep grazed around him, their wool changed into those many colors. Their wool became a prized item, and he was rescued from poverty at last.


The End


-- 500 Years Earlier --
"Grah!" The demon god roared as the mighty warrior's blade broke through its terrible hide and made an end of it.
"I have defeated you all here, all you demon gods," the warrior proclaimed.
"I cannot deny it," the demon god answered, and indeed the corpses of its several brethren were around it. "But for this we curse you! Your descendants will be of lowly station because of this curse. We meanwhile are gods. One day we will revive and attain the fullness of our power, a woeful day for all living things!"
"It may that your curse is sure to have its effect," the warrior said. "Do not think that my descendants will not shed your blood regardless. By this sword that has slain you, I swear that what I say has no falsehood in it."
Finis

Addender

It's tough to explain curseships because they're uninterested in communication, but an unnamed space pirate can handle it.

Addendum

The space curseship is a gigantic jack-o'-lantern. I figured it out.

Pity Has Its Weight

The blessed rains cleared up in time for people to continue thinking them blessed. Even that blot could be seen, as occurred on only the clearest days.
"Ah, there's the city of the saints, watching over us as always."
"You're a fool, Sidim. That's the left eye of the Dour Navigator, looking for the right, and there's isn't too much that's benevolent about it."
Nothing suited people lounging in the street better than speculating or inventing stories about the dot in the sky, and nobody imagined his words would be taken seriously. That is, until that day when a stranger walked in who looked as if he had never heard speech less serious than a priest's at a coronation.
"It's none of those things. Better for me that it was, but no. That is the Sky Tomb. Listen to what I say about it. Once, this was centuries ago I suppose, but once, there was a man who gained everything by crimes and atrocities. Even saying his name is a curse, but I am cursed all the way through already. Orsarius was it, and when he died, wealthy and powerful, the ruler of a kingdom. It subjects were glad to forget its name. Only among men is such injustice allowed. When we buried him, the earth and sky both refused his wicked tomb. Now it stays forever between them, and we laborers walk the world, telling everyone of it. Someday, I am sure, the tomb will be destroyed. Then I will be freed. I am sure."
The stranger walked on, and none dared raise any doubts about his story. Most believing of all was Rimarin, who stated years later that was the day he decided to become a hero. And you do not believe me that ever men saw the Sky Tomb above them, ask Rimarin what he did there.
Finis

Then the Spinoff

A crossover series about people who had cursed weapons at some point. Some stories would be sad, some happy, some bittersweet. Most would end up being comedic. It's hard to take the premise seriously for that long.

The Latest Twist

But what if the evil demon hellship . . . is the good guy? Dun dun dunnnn!

Some Examples

Demon Cruiser Sundrinker
Dorset the Unmissing Rifle
Chaotic Frame

Human Inadequacy

There you are, trying to give your characters distinct weapons, only to realize there aren't really that many. What's worse, most of them are different terms for some metal tied to a stick. What to do?
Invent a time machine and confiscate all the boring weapons, of course. Until then, the best we can do is curse them in different ways. That one has a demon in it and that one will betray you when you need it the most. You get the idea.
Some people think guns and spaceships can't be cursed, but they're the ones who will get it the worst.