Dead Plate Oneshots That Little Gremlin

The clang of hammer on metal rang through the forge like thunder, as Rody Lamoree, the village blacksmith, wiped sweat from his brow. The muscles in his arms flexed as he swung the hammer with practiced precision, shaping the red-hot iron into the blade of a sword. His auburn hair, wild and sweat-slicked, stuck to his forehead as the heat from the forge blazed around him.

Rody worked alone—or at least, he *tried* to.

“Oi! Watch where you’re swinging that thing, you overgrown ox!”

The voice was high-pitched, almost squeaky, but somehow laced with enough condescension to give Rody pause. He glanced down at the source of the voice—a tiny gremlin, barely the size of his palm, sitting smugly on the edge of his workbench, arms crossed over his minuscule chest. His sharp black eyes glinted with annoyance as he dodged sparks flying from Rody’s hammer.

“You’re in my forge, Vincent,” Rody muttered through gritted teeth, pounding the metal with a little more force than necessary. “Again. Why don’t you go back to… wherever it is you gremlins come from?”

Vincent, the aforementioned gremlin, bared his small, needle-like teeth in something that might’ve been a smile. “Now why would I leave when there’s a perfectly good feast right here?”

Rody paused mid-swing, brow furrowed. “What feast?”

The gremlin hopped onto the edge of the anvil, gesturing dramatically with tiny clawed hands. “You, of course! Big, dumb, and delicious, just the way I like ‘em.” His sharp teeth flashed in the flickering light of the forge as he eyed Rody like a particularly stubborn steak.

Rody groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re *still* trying to eat me?”

“I’m persistent,” Vincent shot back, puffing out his little chest. “And I’m very patient. Sooner or later, you’ll slip up. I’ll sink my teeth into that big juicy arm of yours, and then—” He snapped his teeth in the air, his tiny face alight with the ridiculous fantasy of actually devouring Rody whole.

Rody snorted, shaking his head as he wiped his hands on his leather apron. “Vincent, you’re about the size of a potato. How exactly do you plan on eating me?”

The gremlin’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve clearly never heard the tale of the Gluttonous Gnome of Gretchwald. Ate three whole sheep in one sitting!”

“Uh-huh,” Rody said, setting the cooling sword down on the anvil. “Well, as inspiring as that story is, you might want to start smaller—maybe a chicken. Or, y’know, a snack *your* size.”

Vincent hopped up, his tiny legs propelling him onto Rody’s shoulder in one surprisingly nimble movement. He peered at Rody’s bicep with a look of intense concentration, as if he were sizing up a steak for dinner. His fingers, no larger than toothpicks, poked and prodded at the blacksmith’s solid arm.

“See, that’s your problem,” Vincent said, his tiny claws tracing the muscles under Rody’s shirt. “You’re too *dense*. Like a beefy loaf of bread that’s been baked way too long.”

Rody shot him an incredulous look. “A beefy loaf of bread?”

“You know what I mean!” Vincent barked, slapping Rody’s shoulder with a minuscule, unimpressive thwap. “All muscle and no give. Makes it harder to chew. But don’t worry, I’ve got strong jaws.”

Rody raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, and about five minutes before I flick you off into the woods.”

Vincent blinked, momentarily startled, before he quickly schooled his face into a haughty expression. “As if you’d dare flick me, you barbarian. I’m—”

Without a word, Rody reached up and plucked Vincent off his shoulder between two fingers, dangling the tiny gremlin in the air like an unruly cat.

“—HEY! Put me down!” Vincent squawked, kicking his tiny legs in a furious attempt to wriggle free. “I am *very* fragile, you know! Highly sensitive! Let me go!”

“Thought you were a tough, fearsome predator?” Rody teased, holding the squirming gremlin up to eye level. “What happened to that?”

Vincent glared at him, his little face scrunching up in indignation. “I *am*! But predators also know when to retreat. It’s called strategy.”

Rody gave him a flat look. “Right. And what’s your strategy here, exactly?”

“Simple!” Vincent puffed out his chest, which did nothing to make him look less like an angry raisin. “I charm you into letting me go with my irresistible wit and—HEY!”

Rody flicked him—not hard, but enough to send him tumbling backward onto the bench. Vincent landed in a heap of flailing limbs, his coat bunched up around his tiny form.

For a second, Vincent lay there, stunned. Then, with all the dignity he could muster, he stood, brushed himself off, and crossed his arms, glaring at Rody as if the blacksmith had just insulted his ancestors.

“You *will* regret that, blacksmith,” Vincent declared, raising a tiny finger at Rody. “One of these days, I will feast upon your bones, and you’ll be sorry you didn’t—”

Rody walked past him, grabbing a fresh piece of steel to work on. “Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the next person you try to annoy.”

“I mean it!” Vincent shouted after him, stomping his foot for emphasis, which made an adorable little *thud* against the wood. “You’ll be begging for mercy when I—HEY, don’t walk away from me!”

Rody ignored him, chuckling to himself as he returned to his work. But, unsurprisingly, Vincent wasn’t done. The tiny gremlin scurried across the bench, leapt onto Rody’s shoulder again, and, with more determination than sense, attempted to gnaw on the blacksmith’s ear.

“Get off!” Rody barked, swatting at him.

Vincent dodged the swat with impressive agility. “I told you! I’m unstoppable!”

“You’re annoying is what you are,” Rody muttered, flicking him again, though this time more playfully. Vincent tumbled into the folds of Rody’s shirt, wriggling his way free with a huff.

“Annoying?” Vincent repeated, dusting himself off as if he hadn’t just been tossed like a pebble. “I’m *charming*. There’s a difference.”

“Charming?” Rody raised an eyebrow, giving Vincent a sideways glance. “You? The little gremlin who tried to chew through my anvil?”

“It was a test!” Vincent protested, his voice indignant. “I wanted to see how well it was forged.” He paused, smirking. “You passed, by the way. Not bad work for someone with all brawn and no brains.”

Rody snorted. “Glad I’ve got your approval, Your Highness.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Vincent grumbled, hopping off Rody’s shoulder to perch on the bench once more. He leaned back, crossing his arms as he surveyed the blacksmith with a mix of disdain and amusement. “You’re still on the menu.”

Rody rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. As irritating as Vincent was, there was something oddly… entertaining about having the tiny gremlin around. Even if he did constantly threaten to eat him.

“Well,” Rody said, picking up his hammer again, “if you’re going to stick around, at least make yourself useful. There’s some scrap metal over there. Go bite it or something.”

Vincent scoffed, flicking a tiny hand dismissively. “Please, I have standards.” He smirked again, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Besides, why bother with metal when I’ve got something much tastier right in front of me?”

Rody groaned, already regretting asking. “If you try to bite me again, I’m tossing you in the forge.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Vincent said smugly, folding his arms. “You’d miss me.”

Rody paused, hammer mid-swing, and looked at the little gremlin who had made his life absurd for weeks. Then he laughed, a loud, hearty sound that echoed through the forge.

“Maybe,” Rody admitted, grinning down at him. “But it’d be *awfully* peaceful without you.”

Vincent huffed, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his sharp little mouth. “Don’t get used to it, blacksmith. You’ll be seeing me every day.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Rody said, shaking his head as he returned to his work. “Just don’t try to eat me while I’m hammering. I’d hate to accidentally flatten you.”

Vincent gave a sly grin. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Rody. You’re far too fun to chew on.”

Rody couldn’t help but laugh again, hammering away at the steel as Vincent settled in for another day of mocking, pestering, and—when the opportunity arose—attempting to gnaw at the blacksmith’s flesh.

The routine had become so familiar that Rody found himself almost looking forward to it, though he’d never admit that to Vincent. There was something oddly comforting about the little gremlin’s presence, even if his threats were as ridiculous as they were constant.

As the day wore on, Rody began preparing the newly shaped sword for sharpening, turning to the grindstone. As he started cranking the wheel, the rhythmic screech of metal against stone filled the forge.

Vincent, ever the opportunist, saw this as a prime time to enact his latest scheme.

“Perfect,” the gremlin muttered to himself, his sharp little eyes narrowing in concentration. “Distracted. Just like I planned.”

He scampered across the workbench, leaping nimbly onto Rody’s shoulder. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, Vincent sized up his target—the broad, exposed neck of the blacksmith.

“Today’s the day!” Vincent whispered, baring his tiny teeth and readying himself for the ultimate bite. “I’m finally going to—”

In an instant, Rody’s large hand snatched Vincent out of the air mid-leap. The blacksmith didn’t even break a sweat as he continued grinding the blade with his free hand. Vincent dangled helplessly between Rody’s fingers, his arms and legs flailing as he let out a frustrated squeak.

“Really, Vincent?” Rody said, his voice laced with amusement. “You’re still going with the ‘eat me’ plan?”

“I was *this close* this time!” Vincent growled, wriggling around like a furious catfish. “If you hadn’t grabbed me, you’d be halfway down my gullet by now, blacksmith!”

Rody chuckled, glancing down at the indignant gremlin. “I don’t know what kind of dream world you’re living in, but I think I’ll survive.”

Vincent let out an exasperated huff. “You underestimate me at your peril, Rody. I’m a *fierce predator*! You’re lucky to even still be alive with me around.”

“Oh, I’m terrified,” Rody deadpanned, flicking Vincent lightly on the head before setting him back on the workbench. “Shaking in my boots.”

Vincent straightened his coat, doing his best to recover his dignity after the failed attack. “Mock me all you want, but one day you’ll let your guard down. And when you do, I’ll—”

“Eat me, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard this speech a hundred times now,” Rody interrupted, still focused on the blade. “You know, for someone who’s constantly threatening to devour me, you’re awfully bad at it.”

Vincent crossed his arms, glaring daggers at Rody. “I’m just biding my time, alright? Lulling you into a false sense of security.”

Rody smirked. “Pretty sure you’re just bad at eating.”

Vincent’s tiny jaw dropped in exaggerated shock. “Bad at eating?! I’ll have you know, I’ve eaten things far tougher than you! I once devoured an entire—”

Rody cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. “Let me guess, a whole sheep? A dragon egg? A mountain troll?”

Vincent grumbled under his breath, hopping down from the bench to pace. “I *could* eat all those things. But no, I was talking about a particularly tough biscuit from Old Maeve’s bakery.” He shuddered at the memory. “Damn thing almost cracked my teeth.”

Rody snorted, shaking his head. “If a biscuit can take you out, I think I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t compare yourself to that rock-hard monstrosity!” Vincent barked, glaring at Rody with the intensity only a pint-sized gremlin could muster. “I’ll have you know that biscuit was practically petrified.”

Rody couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Sure, Vincent. I’m sure it was.”

The gremlin puffed up indignantly, but instead of responding with another threat, his eyes narrowed in thought. He stared at Rody for a long moment, tapping his tiny foot on the workbench as if he were formulating a plan.

Rody caught the look and frowned. “What now? You’re not going to try and climb inside my mouth while I’m sleeping, are you?”

Vincent snapped his fingers, his face lighting up. “That’s an idea! Yes! You’ll be defenseless, and I’ll—”

Rody held up a hand. “I was joking. Don’t actually try that.”

Vincent pouted, crossing his arms again. “You ruin all my fun, you know that?”

“You call trying to eat me *fun*?” Rody asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!” Vincent replied with a wicked grin. “It’s the thrill of the hunt, the chase, the challenge!”

Rody sighed, setting the now-sharpened sword down and turning to face the little gremlin. “You really are the strangest thing I’ve ever come across.”

Vincent smirked, tilting his head as if to acknowledge the compliment. “Strange, yes. But admit it—you’d be bored without me.”

Rody paused, looking down at the tiny creature who had, against all odds, wormed his way into his everyday life. It was true—despite the constant threats, the gnawing attempts, and the general annoyance, Rody had gotten used to Vincent’s presence. Maybe even… liked having him around.

“Well,” Rody said slowly, leaning back against the workbench, “I guess it’s better than being alone all the time.”

Vincent perked up, clearly not expecting that response. “See? I told you. I’m invaluable.”

“More like impossible to get rid of,” Rody teased, though his tone was softer now.

“Same difference,” Vincent said with a wave of his tiny hand. He stood up straighter, puffing out his chest. “Now, are you going to feed me, or do I have to take a bite out of you?”

Rody chuckled, shaking his head as he reached over to the cupboard. He pulled out a small hunk of bread, setting it down on the bench next to Vincent.

“There. Bread. Start with that instead of me.”

Vincent eyed the bread, then glanced at Rody with a suspicious look. “You think this is a peace offering, don’t you?”

Rody shrugged. “I’m just trying to keep you from biting my ear off.”

Vincent grinned, grabbing the bread with both hands. “Well, consider it a temporary truce.” He tore into the bread with more ferocity than a creature his size should be able to muster. Between bites, he muttered, “But remember—one day, I’ll win. And when I do, you’re toast.”

Rody smiled to himself, shaking his head as he returned to his work. “Sure, Vincent. Whatever you say.”

The day continued on like that—Rody hammering away at the forge, Vincent gnawing on bread and making the occasional snide remark.

It wasn’t what Rody had expected his life to be—working as a blacksmith, with a tiny, irritable gremlin constantly trying to eat him—but in a strange way, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

At least it wasn’t boring.