Saturday, April 30, 2011

Search for Dastardly Part 6

And now for those who have been waiting for the "conclusion"... here's a part almost long enough to be split in two ;P  

In all seriousness though, the main scene worked better as a whole, and the epilogue should answer a few questions about other characters' motivations.

Previously on Search for Dastardly:
Renda, Waory and Nuff have discovered that there are remnants of the freelancer wandering around, remnants that Krotar will likely seek out if he wants to get his revenge.  Meanwhile, Sir Adrian has been captured by what appears to be a familiar face...

Adrian currently hoped that he could stall the crazy man long enough to figure a way out. The ropes binding his arms and legs were tight and not very thick, but it would be painful to rub the fibres together if he wanted to weaken them.

The room around him seemed to be a deserted publican, complete with barstools covered by white sheets and cobwebs lining the roof. The only possible weapon Adrian could think of was the old broom that rested against the wall.

There were two entrances: saloon doors to the knight's right and a pair of wooden doors behind the bar. Neither were close enough to reach before “Dastardly” or his accomplice could stop him.

'If you really are him,' he asked, 'then what is your real name?'

“Dastardly” hesitated before stuttering the line he had said three or four times since Adrian became conscious.

'...b...b...bai'm called Dastardly,' he said, his voice straining against something.

'What happened to that friend of yours, the one you told me about that time in Sponge Country?'

'Friend? I work alone, Sir Adrian. Anyone who I call friend just hasn't outlived their usefulness.'

'Yes, about that Dastardly,' said the dirty man with the raspy voice, 'what are we –'

'Silence! Listen to me when I'm being important.'

'Look, “Dastardly”,' the knight said. 'It should be obvious that I'm not very convinced. If there's nothing else I can help you with, I'd rather just be on my way.'

'Fred, there's someone outside. Can't you hear them yelling?'

The false Dastardly turned around and begun, 'For the last time, I'm not...' before the back doors burst open. Sitting astride Sal as she replaced her hoof was a knight.

'What the..?'

As the dust of the smashed wood settled, Nuff leapt into the room and fired a crossbow-like weapon at the ratty man. Out of the end came a small net that swung around the target's head, causing him to fall over. Nuff waved to the horse-rider and called out, 'yep, he's in here!'

“Dastardly” dived for the front doors but was too late as the armoured knight – wearing Adrian's armour! – dismounted the horse and threw the broom like a spear at the man's head. The false Dastardly went down and the knight approached Adrian. The figure removed it's helmet, revealing itself to be Renda.

'Aren't you a little...' Adrian continued despite his better judgement, '...shapely to fit that armour?'

'Aren't you a little tied up right now?' Renda replied drolly, though a friendly smile flashed across her face like lightening. She went to untie Adrian while Nuff thumped “Dastardly” with the butt of his shooting device. In the other corner of the room, the ratty man struggled to his feet, took one look at the man he had called Fred and ran out the back door.

'Leave him,' Adrian said. He brought his arms forward and massaged the wrists. 'Good job, by the way,' he nodded to the gnome. 'Clever little net-sling-thing you've got there.' The knight stood up and winked at Renda. 'And the broom? That was genius. How did you know where I was?'

Renda and Nuff exchanged guilty glances.

'Well there was your horse...'

'And gnomes have a good sense of direction...'

The mercenary sighed. 'You mean you didn't hear that?'

Adrian appeared puzzled. 'The ratty guy said he heard shouting.'

'We tried two other buildings on our way over here,' Renda grinned and ventured a shrug. 'So maybe people were a bit surprised.'

A heavy silence hung over the room, broken by the false Dastardly groaning.

'Did you find out what happened to Dastardly?'

Nuff gave the man on the floor another casual bump on the head. 'More or less.'

'What does that mean?'

Renda knelt down and grabbed the unconscious body's legs.

'Give me a hand?'

Adrian obligingly lifted the head and together they walked out the back door.

'The Book says that when the Regent poisoned Medieval, he left behind some remnants, separated from his body. I guess you've already met his face.' They swung the limp man over the horse's back.

The knight simply raised an eyebrow.

'Don't expect me to tell you how,' Renda said harshly. 'One remnant is the faรงade that he put up, including what he looks like and that silly name; the other – his soul – is in the Troll Underworld, whatever that could be.'

'What do we do next then?' said Adrian, poking his head back into the building. He then turned left to see Nuff waving to somebody. Waory rounded the corner of the alley and shook a large key at the others.

'The librarian told me where we can go to find out – hi Sir Adrian, glad to see you're alright – the place the book mentioned.'

'Slow down,' the mercenary said, removing Adrian's gauntlets from her smaller but certainly not dainty hands. 'What is that key?'

Waory stopped shaking it. 'This? Mr Parch said that we should take the key with us, as long as we're on our way to Skim. The Illuman book is safely locked away for now.'

'We're going to the river town?' Adrian was taken aback. 'What the heck for?'

'Mr Parch said that if we really want to find Dastardly, the real Dastardly, we need to go to the Liquid Library.' The advisor clearly didn't quite understand what that meant, but continued anyway. 'The easiest passage to the mountains over there is north of the river delta.'

'You can't be serious,' Adrian groaned. 'This is a quest you're talking about. Just when I thought this stuff was over...'

Renda shook her head. 'Don't you get it? Whatever happened to Medieval can't be normal. And we've got to keep one step ahead of Krotar! Let's get moving!'

Nuff sidled a little closer to Adrian.

'I don't think the knight's so stupid. Listen lady, you've been a big help since I met you, but we don't even know what this Krotar is after – all we have is your word that he wants the freelancer.'

Scowling, Renda threw the remaining armour pieces on the ground.

'I'll find him alone if I must. You three had better be ready for when Nius catches up on your trail.'

Waory jumped in front of her as she stormed up the alley.

'Hey wait, I need to –'

'Out of my way.'

'Hey, hey, hey people!' Adrian manoeuvred a shoulder between them and eyeballed the mercenary. 'None of us have a good reason just to turn on each other.'

'Oh yeah? Then why are you so reluctant to get going?'

Nuff switched tact. 'Do I sense a hint of softness for Mr Medieval?'

'It's not that at all.' The knight's face hardened. 'Renda always wanted to be an adventurer, that's why she joined the mercs. This is just an excuse to go gallivanting around the countryside after ideals and treasure.'

The woman opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but nothing came out.

'I knew I was right. This isn't about rescuing anybody. Nuff – was it her idea to burst through the door like a knight in shining armour?'

The gnome offered no rebuttal, and Renda's eyes stared, empty, into the middle distance while Adrian continued. 

'You want a reason to quest across the land and defy fate – right, Miss Rogue? You want to laugh in the face of Death. Let me tell you, Renda, I've seen Death, and she's the one thing you don't make light of.'

Waory backed away as the mercenary slumped to the ground.

'Wow,' she said. 'You certainly know how to wind a girl.'

From her kneeling position, Renda looked up into Adrian's stern eyes. They appeared to soften a fraction. Then, she thrust her fist between his legs.

The knight squeaked and toppled backward, hands covering his crotch.

'That was low,' he said, in a voice that was anything but. The mercenary stood up.

'Thank you for wrapping up everything I am into one neat package.' She spat on the ground beside the knight. 'Bet you wished you kept your armour on now, right?'

When Adrian had finished making the sounds of a dying mouse, she offered a hand to help him up.

'We're going to Skim, Sir Knight, and on the way you can tell me all about my adventurous aspirations.' Renda glanced at Waory, who had managed to hide behind the far wall of the building without apparently moving.

'Regent's advisor, would you care to show us the way out of the city?'
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue

Mr Parch the librarian choked, his eyes rolling towards the ground. Nius, whose hair and beard ringed his face like a lion's mane, released his grasp on the librarian's neck but remained holding the knife blade to his throat.

'The Land-Regent knew everything about what was going on in the north,' said Krotar calmly. 'We simply wanted to do his job so we could get close enough to steal the Book.  Not only did that fool Medieval beat me to Hox, now the Regent's in prison and the Book is back here. My friend doesn't like that. He needs the Book, and I need Dastardly gone. Give us the whereabouts of both and you'll live to see another dry, musty, indoors day.'

'I can't give it to you,' Mr Parch said, still whispering, though much more frantically. 'The other librarians are the only ones who can unlock the quarantine vault...'

'Then give us your key,' Krotar said. 'We'll leave you alive at least until we come back.'

Nius grinned like a carnivore before pouncing. He opened his mouth to release a sound that shall not be described here, but it was a sound that shook the librarian's psyche to the core.

'I can't.'  Mr Parch tried to smile for his small success. 'It's out of the city by now.'

'Don't worry,' Krotar sneered. 'We already know who you gave it to.'

With that, Nius sniffed the air and directed the enthralled mercenary out of the library. They were on the trail – on the hunt for prey.

To be continued in the Ongoing Adventures.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Puppethead War #3

< < Issue 2
Welcome, readers, to instalment number 3, in which we witness Mitch's attempts at action and suspense; and where for the first time we will focus only on Daiv.  Next time, the focus will be on Talon.

THURSDAY

Hints of winter's chill nipped at the riders' goat-hair coats, but there were weeks of autumn left in these mountains. Daiv was the last to join the group on the ridge, where a clearing offered view of the boatman's alcove.

'Isn't there supposed to –' he began, but another rider shook his head. The man was called Roran, and Roran lifted lightly on his mount's reins to turn back. The fourth, Hemroj, followed him, leaving the boy alone with Mr Sasket.

No one would have expected to see darkness behind the hut's windows, or the solitary boat that slouched on the pebbled beach. The boatmen, from what Daiv had heard, were of a courteous and inviting nature. Whoever drew the night shift kept a fire lit to assist travellers, whether they approached via the beaten path or took a shortcut like the montiger riders had. There were also supposed to be more boats tied up to the little pier in case of emergency.

Daiv looked to the old man at his left. Mr Sasket glanced back to the boy before taking the same route down to the shore. The riders congregated outside the empty building and Daiv soon joined them as Roran spoke in a hushed tone.

'Something is going on,' he began, 'but don't make any assumptions.'

Darrin Sasket nodded. 'I think we should sleep here for the night and take the boat in the morning.'

'I'll keep an eye out for anything from the east,' Roran continued. 'Hem can take the second watch. For all we know, they could've just been held up.'

FRIDAY

This was the next morning and Daiv stood quickly, bleary eyes and fuzzy memories, to the sound of the door creaking. Within a second everything returned: yet again he was behind the others.

I'm just a lazy teenage boy.

Daiv emerged into a streaming multicoloured light as the sun eked over the slopes behind him. The three adults were down by the water, having already floated the boat.

'Oh good, you're up,' said Hemroj. He waved for Daiv to join them, then began to speak, probably repeating himself for the boy's sake.

'Neither of us heard or saw activity from the direction of the village,' he said. He pointed to the east. 'I think it's best that we all go in the boat. If we move slowly enough...'

'How will we defend ourselves if the puppetheads attack?'

Hem appeared to be insulted. He pointed behind Mr Sasket and behind the boat, where – Daiv took a quick glance – three crossbows were piled together.

'We take the crossbows from the hut and fire at anything that moves.'

This did not stop Daiv's uncertainty for the venture.

'The last time I went on the lake was when Ferran was taken.'

Darrin butted in. 'From what I was told, you three weren't being very careful.'

The boy picked up a crossbow and pointed it at the ocean, trying to get a feel for how to aim it, but Hem snatched the weapon from his hands.

'We'll take turns, you can row first.'

Together the group climbed aboard. As it was essentially a wooden dinghy, Daiv didn't have too much trouble getting them away from the beach, but by the time the village itself came into view, he registered a sinking feeling in his gut. The feeling had also reached Hem and Roran – their eyes darted between the water and each other almost constantly.

This was the first time Daiv had seen the village on the lake, but he was fairly sure that the buildings – bumping together lazily on leather and wood pontoons – shouldn't have been smouldering.

Hem hissed through gritted teeth. 'Get us over there now.'

'I'm going as fast as I can!'

Hem took his eyes off the water and leant backward, passing the crossbow to the boy. Daiv grabbed it and moved forward so the man could take the oars.

A wailing cry rang out across the water, startling everyone but Darrin.  A crow flew straight past the boat and continued away from the wreck. Darrin pressed on the end of Daiv's crossbow; he had whipped it up to aim at the bird.

'Keep steady and focus on the water.'

Hem's rowing had taken them in closer. Not all of what they could see was burnt, but the expected hubbub generally associated with a population centre was replaced by eerie silence. They approached a small pier.

Darrin spoke first. 'Stay here, I've got to look around.'

The old man climbed out and the others quickly realigned to stop boat from tipping. In the shuffle Daiv dropped his crossbow and the weapon bounced off the side into the water, making a deep splash. He turned to the others and grinned stiffly.

'Sorry.'

Roran shushed him and sidled closer to the bow. He pointed out past Daiv's left ear to the source of his concern, a wave lapping at the side of a building not far away.

There was a shift in the air, like something had changed.

Suddenly a cephalopod arm the size of a tree erupted from the water and a parrot-like screech made those in the boat cover their ears. Before they could move, the arm came down on the boat, wrenching the two halves apart like a saw. Hemroj was thrown from the back of the boat, still clutching onto one of the oars, while Daiv flew forward and hit his head.

Amongst the remnants of their craft Roran swam towards Daiv's dazed body. He managed to negotiate the boy around one of the struts that held the pontoons. Heart beating wildly, Roran climbed onto the pier and went for Daiv's arms.

'Wha... huh...' The boy came to, both riders dripping water and slime onto the wood. As one they looked back to the water but Hem hadn't made it any closer.

Daiv yelled to him. Beneath the water the dark shape of the monster changed course.

It seemed that Hem was fast enough, swimming several lengths of the now sunken boat in an instant, but when he was less than a metre from the outstretched arms of his fellow riders, he disappeared.

Once more there was calm, but this time it was broken by four more arms of the monster springing from the water.

'Run!' said Roran. Daiv and the older man bolted down the wooden slats. They reached the larger wharf just as the creature smashed the pier. Roran grabbed the boy's collar to steer him away from the heaving mass of splinters as they dived into a large building.

Inside they could still feel the slight rocking of the pontoons caused by the disturbance. They each took a side of the doorway, glancing out at the ruined water. The creature had retreated beneath the surface, but, Daiv thought, it would only be a matter of time until something tried to attack them up here.

Roran breathed deeply.  'I take it that was a puppethead?'

'No doubt.' Daiv sniffed the air. 'What is this place for?'

'Man oh man,' Roran said, eyes widening as he turned to look behind them.

The reek was coming from the back of the room. Resting on the wall was the massive bulk of one of the monsters, now lying still. To either side were limp human bodies, each holding a crossbow of their own.

'That's a big one,' said Daiv, shaking from either the cold or fright.

'We're late to the party.' Roran waved a hand to clear the air and coughed.

'Maybe some villagers are still alive,' Daiv said.

'What do you mean?'

Daiv looked back out at the lake. 'For the sake of Hem, I'm hoping they still take prisoners.'

Thursday, April 14, 2011

The Puppethead War #2

< < Issue 1
@J. A. Platt, thanks for the feedback :)
Everyone else, I know there isn't a lot of action in this part but, trust me, there will be some later.

Ferran and Talon were to meet with their travelling party at an inn on the outskirts of Arten. The town sat at the feet of the mountains and on the whole was not much bigger than Yerz, however, Arten appeared to be much more important to travellers between North and South. Even at sundown that day, the two messengers found the sloping main street pulsing with activity, whether the people were locals cleaning up their market stalls or rowdy groups of traders in search of a drink.

As they passed through the central square, lined by buildings up to three stories high, Talon spotted the Tanslan brothers. Though they were several years older than him, Talon had been friends with them when they'd learnt arithmetic from the Niatese teacher Garth. Names like Garth and Mithy had always seemed alien to Talon – now that he was setting off the farthest he'd ever been before, he associated those names with imagined foreign lands. Conversely, catching the Tanslans as they headed home would be a fitting touchstone before everything lost its familiarity.

'Hey Tean, Yoh!' he shouted across the cobbled space. Yoh lifted his head from the tray of fish that he was packing carefully into an icebox.

'Talon! What are you and the old man doing here?'

As the youth made his way towards their stall, Ferran frowned. The fisherman didn't need to be reminded that his half-century was only three years away, however young he felt.

'We've got to warn Carpol about the puppetheads,' Talon said. 'You guys won't be overwhelmed if a few come up while we're gone?'

Tean ruffled Talon's hair. 'Ha. We could handle this little invasion all by ourselves! Wish I'd been there for the first one,' he made jabbing motions with his right hand. 'Woulda skewered it and we'd have monster calamari barbecue.'

'Yeah right,' Yoh stood up beside him and raised his fists theatrically. 'More like, you getting taken over while I go hand to hand with it in your body.'

The two brothers devolved into trading harmless insults and Ferran grabbed Talon's right shoulder.

'We have to keep going,' he said. 'They'll be waiting for us.'

The youth sighed and they said their goodbyes before continuing down the road.

***
The montigers appeared to be getting restless. Before long, the humans gathered their things and prepared to move on again. Daiv adjusted Durga's saddle before bringing up the very rear of the group, racing through the rugged paths that took them around the expansive western lake.

His mount was a sufficiently intelligent animal, not to mention fast, but the rider was still learning to control its sheer power and cat-like arrogance. 'No, I assure you it's this way,' the montiger sometimes seemed to say, steering with its own objective and only occasionally lenient to Daiv sitting helplessly on its back.

To make matters worse, he'd had these many hours to think about what to say to the boatmen near the Floating Village, with nothing particularly useful coming to mind. We bring grave news that you're sitting on an enemy stronghold? We're not sure when but the monsters under the lake might attack?

All too late, he thought. Shortly they would be rounding the cliffs that went down to the boatman's hut on the shore.

We'll be there very soon.

***
Hanging above the door to the entirely wooden, A-shaped inn was a sign declaring for itself “Bedbug's Bunk”, with happily sleeping insect included. Talon opened the door slowly and they tramped in, the door slamming hard in a sudden gust of wind. From here on the villagers were satisfied not to be in the storm that battered the little inn on the hill.

Inside was a typical central dining room, bereft of clientele apart from a couple in the corner who looked on edge and three wildly varying figures at one end, being tended to by a smartly dressed bartender. Talon ignored the nervous glance from the man in the corner, instead following Ferran to the bar.

'Do we look intimidating?' he asked quietly, but the fisherman was too concerned with the trio before them. Immediately Talon recognised on the left the light brown coat and pompous hat that the Big Honch was wont to be seen in, but he couldn't pick the the others who faced away from them.

'Ah, you've arrived,' the Honch said jovially. For this Talon immediately assumed that he was partially inebriated. 'Allow me to introduce you to our gracious transporters, Leyh and Ogard.'

The youth turned to the others. Leyh must not have been much older than him, a woman with long, dark red hair and – for some reason – carrying a short bow on her back. She grinned with just a hint of power as he offered his hand.

'Do you speak?' she said. 'Has a griphion got your tongue?'

'Talon,' he said, trying not to make eye contact.

'Looks like we've got a mumbler here, Oge.' She nudged her companion.

The man was very tall and heavily built, wearing brown-green overalls. Opposed to Leyh, Ogard carried a round lute-like instrument. His grin was amiable enough to outshine the woman's sharpness and Talon's entire body went up and down with the goodwill of his handshake.

'Oge doesn't say much either,' Leyh said, 'but don't get cocky and try to stop the train; that balalyre isn't just for show.'

Ogard shrugged and Ferran introduced himself, likewise shaking with the musician's large-handed hello.

'So you're traders?' the fisherman asked. 'What's “the train”?'

'That's what you call the three-limbed trade route from north of here, Niamyt and down to Carpol,' Leyh said without a pause. 'Most of the central Old Ryndians don't like selling to what they call rebel separatists, so we go the long way round, and then back over the mountains.'

'They've offered to take us down through the country,' said the Honch. He began to feel the heat of Talon's gaze. 'What's your problem?'

'You need to start telling us what you know about this invasion.'

The intake of breath to their right was just audible.

'What invasion?' Leyh said.

The Big Honch grabbed Talon by his ear and led him away from the bar.

'You have to know when to keep your mouth shut. Get upstairs and take the third room. Stay there until I or Ferran comes to get you.'

'You're not my father,' the youth growled. 'I don't have to do what you say.'

Ferran's face appeared beside the Honch.

'Talon, you'd best get out of here.'

He nodded and the Honch let go of his ear. Turning back to the bar, the man said, 'silly boy. Don't know why he'd say something like that.'