Enigmatic Fantasies #7 - A Night At The King's Head Tavern [#56]

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            The King's Head Tavern was a den of adventurers, mercenaries and drifters. The ale was cheap, overnight rooms were plentiful and there was always a story to be told. It catered to all comers, no matter their race, status or creed. While this policy often leads to a diverse set of faces every night. It also caused more than its fair share of friction.

~--~

            "Anderson let it go!" The cleric commanded his comrade.

            "Never," the warrior slammed his fist on the table and nearly spilled his drink. "You saw it yourself Benedict, those damn kobolds started it!" Out of the corner of his eye, he could spy the aforementioned lizards, as they made rude gestures towards him from across the room.

            "Let the lizards be," the rogue said as he cleaned his dagger, "they ain't worth your attention."

            "Stay out of this Richard," the warrior snapped.

            "Richard has a point," the wizard commented as he smoked from his pipe. "Besides if you give into their taunts, it's their victory."

            "Now listen here Bazil-" Anderson reared up, but he quickly deflated as he considered the robed man's words. "...I need another drink," the armored man stood up and walked towards the bar.

            "But you didn't even finish your last one," Benedict pointed out.

            "Don't bother," Bazil took another puff from his pipe, "just let him cool off."

            "Wise words wizard man," Richard agreed, "but I'll follow the lad, make sure he doesn't get any ideas." With his ally's agreement, the rogue hopped up from his chair and worked his way through the tavern up to the bar.

            The tavern was abuzz with activity this night. The town guards were engaged in a drinking contest with a band of dwarves. A group of elvish bards had started an impromptu concert. There was even a trio of paladins who had regaled a dozen other taverns goers with stories of their exploits worthy of an epic poem.

            After he passed by a duo of drunk goblins Richard finally caught sight of Anderson. He was seated at the bar, in the middle of a lengthy discussion with the barkeep. The rogue breathed a sigh of relief and prepared to turn back until he caught a glimpse of some familiar faces. At the end of the bar, about half a dozen seats from Anderson, a couple of kobolds loitered near the bar. The same ones who had menaced the warrior earlier that night.

            'Well this can only end well,' Richard thought, 'better distract Anderson before he notices them.' The rogue moved forward to meet with his friend but got caught behind some larger tavern goers. He lost sight of his friend just as the barkeep picked up Anderson's tankard. However, Richard never lost sight of the kobolds or the barkeep. As the barkeep filled up Anderson's tankard, one of the kobolds jumped up and started to yammer into his face.

            'Impatient little lizards,' the rogue thought. It was then he caught a suspicious sight. While the barkeep was distracted, the second kobold reached over the bar and dropped something in Anderson's drink. 'Now what's this,' Richard pondered as he moved toward the kobolds to investigate. As the barkeep pulled away, Richard walked right behind the two lizardfolk.

            "Now then lads what mischief are you up to now?" The rogue questioned the pair.

            "Wha?" The two lizards screeched. Once they caught sight of the man behind them their pupils went wide. They quickly retreated into the crowd with the aid of their tiny bodies. Richard shook his head and turned to approach his friend.

            "What do you want Richard," the warrior mumbled as he swished his newly acquired drink around.

            "Ah Andy, mind if I take a whiff of your drink?" The rogue asked firmly.

            "Since when do you care for this swill?" Anderson responded with a drunken hic.

            "I don't but I have suspicions of foul play," Richard admitted. The warrior looked at him quizzically but relented to his friend's serious expression. "Just like I thought," the rogue took a quick whiff, "those lizards slipped a nasty thing in your drink."

            "They did what?" Anderson sputtered.

            "The kobolds just tried to drug you," Richard replied simply.

            "Those scaly-!" The warrior swore as he jumped to his feet.

            "Now, now Andy," the rogue stopped his friend, "you're not of sound mind or body, let ol' Richey handle this." Anderson grumbled but could offer no argument in his drunken state. Richard set his friend back down in his chair and flipped around to deal with the kobolds. Across the room in a small table in the corner where the kobolds. Each of them seated on extra-high stools, normally reserved for children. The rogue made beeline for the lizards.

            "What you want!" One of the kobolds spat in his face as he approached.

            "Now lads I don't normally confront people directly," Richard stated, "but you dumb lizards crossed the line."

            "What're you talkin' about?" Another kobold snapped at him.

            "I have no problem if you want to make asses of yourselves trying to taunt people," the rogue declared. "However, when you try to drug my friends, I take offense to that." The kobolds were bewildered by his accusations, aside from a few who currently shrunk in their seats. "But I'm a man of standards so I'll give you fair warning. Get lost the lot of you, or I and my associates will give you the beating of a lifetime."

            "I ain't going around drugging chumps," the biggest kobold denied the accusation. "If you're trying to pick a fight-" However before the kobold could continue a few of his friends slipped out from the table and ran out of the tavern. "Cowards!" The large kobold screeched before he ran after his buddies. The rest of the kobolds nervously followed under Richard's watchful eye.

~--~

            "What happened?" Bazil asked as Richard lead the drunk Anderson back to the table.

            "The kobolds decided taunting Andy here wasn't enough," the rogue revealed. "So, they tried to drug his drink. If I didn't catch them in the act we'd probably be chasing him across town right now."

            "Where are the kobolds?" Benedict asked.

            "Chasing each other across town," Richard laughed, "apparently only a few were in on the drugging part. I asked around, seems they made a bet over who could anger our dear warrior first. Looks like drugs were against the rules."

            "That's a relief," Bazil chuckled, "you saved this night from going south real quick."

            "Cheers to that," Richard agreed.

~--~

            The King's Head tavern catered to all comers, no matter their race, status or creed. While this policy often leads to a diverse set of faces every night. It also caused more than its fair share of friction. These instances tend to resolve themselves. However, whether that is a good or bad thing depends on which side of the altercation you were on.

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This may come off as surprising, but this story was inspired by a dream I had a few weeks ago. It was the same general idea, a bunch of kobolds try to drug a warrior to a win a bet and one of his friends confronts them over it. However, the best part of the dream, and the main reason I wrote this story, was because it ended with all the kobolds in high chairs. That image was to funny not to make a story about it. Literally, the first thing I did that morning was write the story idea down. So, yeah this whole story was written because of one funny image I had stuck in my head.
Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy.

Eclectic Narratives #2 - The Most Normal Girl In The Universe [#55]

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            Marry was the most normal girl in the universe. The middle of the road, the 50th percentile, the literal definition of mediocre, and she hated it. She desperately wished to be at least noteworthy. If not to the world, at least to her peers. She had lived her life virtually invisible to others. Not because of malice or ignorance, but from how simply unremarkable she was. She got average grades in school, always came in 4th place in contests and worked in a glue factory. The drab brown-haired girl in her plain outfit had simply failed to register on anyone's radar. However, today that would all change.

            "I'm going to do it," she affirmed from atop the highest hill in town while perched on a unicycle. This unicycle stunt through town would finally grant her the attention she sought, or at the very least curious looks. Flyers were handed out and everyone she knew had been informed. She even had a big cardboard sign posted on the hill for everyone to see. Even if she was seriously hurt, "...I'd at least get a funny article about me in the news," Marry told herself.

            The time was now and the unicycle was ready, she pushed off and began to pedal down the hill. She waited with bated breath as she expected a crowd of people ready to see this moron roll down a mile long hill on a unicycle. Yet, as she came over the edge she realized not a soul had come out to see her stunt. Without the allure of an audience, her survival instincts kicked in. She flopped off the unicycle which careened down the hill without her.

            As she laid on the ground and contemplated her life choices she heard an audible crash from down the hill. Rather than see her result of her mistake she slunk home in shame. Later that night, Marry saw a news report about a unicycle that caused $30,000 in damage to the town. It had somehow knocked over a power line and broke twelve windows. She decided it would be best to never speak of her part in the incident.

            She had wondered why not a single person was there to witness her insane stunt. She slipped into a desperate sob when she learned the reason. Everyone in town was at the "Regional Paint Drying Competition," including her family and friends.

            Mary was the most normal girl in the universe. The general average, the exact median, the archetypal nobody, and the universe liked it that way.

~~~~

I have nothing much to say, this is just a silly little story idea I've had for a few years now. I do want to come back to it though, maybe make something longer or write a sequel.
Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy.

Enigmatic Fantasies #6 - A World Giving Thanks [#54]

Inspiration: http://sq-atlus.jp/sq5/images/bg.jpg

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            It is a magnificent centerpiece to the world, a beacon to all that lives. Some call it a god and worship it. Others see it as a symbol of life, a constant reminder that the world itself lives and breathes. However, most people are simply thankful it exists, just as much as they are thankful for the air in their lungs. Call it whatever you wish: the World Tree, the Grand Oak or the Wood of Heaven. It is a part of all lives in this world and will continue to be for generations to come.

            What actually matters is how you let it influence your life. Will you live within its wood? Harvest its resources? Attempt to scale it for sport or science? Or will you just leave it as a simple background to your daily life? The choice is yours and yours alone.

            I have been asked often by inquisitive young minds where it came from and how long it has lived. I always tell them the same thing, it depends on who you ask. Some say it was planted by a god, while others believe it is a god. Most contend it simply sprouted on its own and never stopped growing. As far as how long it has existed, most agree it is nearly as old as the planet itself.

            Perhaps we may never know, or perhaps we'll learn tomorrow. If the answers are what you seek, you'll have to find them on your own. The tree isn't much for conversation, even with its worshippers. There is, however, another way you might learn, but it is not preferable and will take some time.

            When your time has come and your spirit leaves this world many say you will join with the tree. Both metaphorically and literally. For you see the most popular graveyards in all the land are at the base of the tree or even inside of it. Even if you do not believe your spirit will join the tree, it is likely your physical body will. Mainly as nutrients for the tree's further growth. However, if your spirit does join the tree, then maybe you will learn of its origins, maybe.

            All I ask of you dear listener is to be thankful for the tree. It is the lifeblood of our world, without it we could not exist. So please remember whenever you see the shape of the tree as it consumes the horizon. Remember to be thankful, it all you must do. 

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I'll keep this short, I just wanted a story for today that would be somewhat thematically linked to giving thanks and this story came from that. Also, I'm a lover of worldbuilding and this was a fun mental exercise.
Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy. Also, Happy Thanksgiving!

Strange Sci-fi Tales #3 - Brock Anders, Hero of the Universe [#53]

Inspiration: Raygun Gothic style artwork and stories. Stuff like Buck Rodgers, Flash Gordon, Adam Strange, etc.

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            "Emerging over the horizon, like a beacon of justice, it's the man, the myth the legend. Brock Anders, Defender of the Universe," the titular hero announced himself. The champion of justice stood tall and firm in his form-fitted red space suit. It was adorned with sharp shoulder pads and large rings around each joint. He wore a sleek, stylish space helmet topped with fin upon his head and possessed a spectacular raygun belted to his side.

            "He overlooks this vast, uncharted, alien world. Ready to discover its secrets and smite any alien menaces who lurk in the shadows!" The beacon of human achievement declared. With a mighty leap, Anders leaped forward into the landscape before him. The low gravity slowed his descent as he landed softly upon the dusty, desert-like ground.

            "Aided by his young sidekick, Elma Pauling, scientist in training!" The hero of humanity shouted to the heavens. Yet, the announced sidekick did not emerge. "I said, Aided by his young sidekick!" Anders repeated as he searched for his missing ward.

            "Up here Anders," a voice called from atop the ridge. The mighty spaceman looked up to see his sidekick. The young woman was garbed in a simplified yellow version of his own outfit. However, she lacked a fin on her helmet and raygun of her own.

            "There you are my amazing sidekick," Anders chuckled, "Come forth we have a planet to explore."

            "I cannot Anders," Pauling admitted, "such a jump is impossible for me."

            "What is that?" The champion of the universe shouted. "Some alien menace holds you back, do not fret I'll be right there."

            "That's not what I-" The sidekick began, but Anders had already begun his ascent. With aid from low gravity and two small rockets attached to his boots, Brock Anders zoomed back up the ridge. His raygun in hand ready to destroy whatever alien menace held his sidekick hostage.

            "I knew it!" The greatest spaceman announced as he leveled his raygun. "The Ratiguns from Planet H, who knew you'd follow me this far." Mere feet away was a swarm of large rodents, with bright, red eyes and knife-like teeth. "Begone alien scum!" Anders pulled the trigger on his raygun, which released a burst of light that scared off the Ratiguns.

            "Anders-" Pauling began.

            "No need to thank me, my young ward," Brock Anders struck a heroic pose, "it's all in a day's work for men of justice like myself."

            "Anders," his sidekick tried to speak again.

            "Did I ever tell you the first time I fought those vile Ratiguns?" The spectacular, space hero ignored her.

            "Anders!" She snapped at him.

            "It all began in the Beta Quadrant eleven years ago!" Anders continued his monologue.

~--~

            "Anders, listen to me for once!" Elma pleaded, but Anders just continued to ramble. "He's stuck in his stories again, it'll be another hour before he even acknowledges I exist." She sighed and looked back at the "mighty, space hero" she was stuck with. His spacesuit was filled with holes, his helmet had several large cracks in it. The toy raygun he waved around was in desperate need of new batteries.

            "Stupid machine," she moaned. She took a seat on a pile of scrap metal, while Anders's hydraulics stuttered in their attempt to emulate human motion. Pauling turned away from the ignorant android and observed the area around him instead. The large dome of the space station hung almost a mile above their heads. A distant star provided a moderate amount of light. The area was filled with piles of scrap metal and dilapidated structures. The exhausted sidekick looked back over the "ridge" Anders had leaped before. It was laden with jagged metal. Then she flipped back towards the "Ratiguns." The small rodents had scurried back into their holes. Frightened by the flash of red light from Anders's toy gun.

            The "Universe's greatest hero," continued his endless speech, completely oblivious to the world around him. Meanwhile, Pauling pulled out a small tape recorder and clicked the record button.

            "Observation Log, Day 117: Subject continues to indulge in his delusions with no signs of stopping," she spoke into the device.

            "Why yes, I am incredible thank you," Anders responded before he returned to his monologue.

            "Subject continues to hear only what he wants to hear," Pauling sighed as she continued her recording. "I must continue to advocate for the theory this is not simply faulty programming. Nor do I believe it is a hardware malfunction. The delusion is far too well realized and detailed."

            The young scientist collected her thought for a moment, "I would like to reach out to the original programmer for the Brock Anders android. However, they refuse to return my calls. This leaves the specifics of the android's creation the subject of rumor and speculation. My personal favorite rumor is that the programmer stole the source code from police androids. Then slightly modified it in order to meet a deadline."

            "Obviously I'm the most decorated captain in all the galaxy," the "space hero" claimed to a nonexistent audience.

            "I will continue my observations on the subject until further notice. I continue to be thankful for the abandonment of this space station. I fear what might happen if he were among more people," Pauling finished her log and turned off her tape recorder. She yawned and stretched back. "Well, I've got some time to kill before he finishes his little speech." Pauling leaned back and closed her eyes while Anders droned on in the background.

~--~

            "...And that my sidekick is how I saved the galaxy with two broken legs and half a wine bottle," the exemplar of justice finished his spectacular story. "Do not fret, there will always be more stories to tell," he proclaimed to his awestruck young ward. "But now we must go forth and make those future stories reality." The hero of the universe turned toward the endless horizon and raised his arms to the heavens. "This new frontier is only the beginning of a hundred more stories. A hundred more encounters and a hundred more alien menaces to do battle with!" Anders reached his arm out forward to seize the horizon. "This is no time to dawdle we must...we must-"

            "Error," a mechanical voice echoed from Ander's body, "optical malfunction. Repair process initiated..." Ander's vision, once filled with a boundless, alien wasteland flitted to the sight of a horrid, abandoned space station. He made no comment while the mechanical voice continued. "Repair process 50% complete...70% complete...90% complete."

            "We must..." The hero attempted to finish his speech, but couldn't remember the words.

            "Error, repair process failed," the mechanical voice stated. "Attempting reboo-" The mechanical voice suddenly cut off as Ander's vision returned to the alien landscape.

            "We must seize the future by our own hands!" The galaxy's greatest champion announced in triumph. "The mere idea of the future could hold brings joyful tears to my eyes," Anders admitted as tears streamed down his face. "But at the same time," he muttered, "why do I feel so...so...?" Anders trailed off, unable to find the right words as his tears refused to stop.

~~~~

Now this is one of those stories where I came up with the concept and then wanted to write it immediately. The character of Brock Anders was a complete accident, created one Sunday when me and some friends were goofing off with some tabletop RPGs.

We played a gritty sci-fi game, but I wanted to create a character who didn't quite fit in with aesthetic (which was the joke). Thus I created Brock Anders, a crazy spaceman who believed he was in a 1950s era pulp sci-fi adventure. When in reality he lived in grim, dystopia. I workshopped the idea with my friends and that lead to him being a malfunctioning android with a toy gun.

This story was a joy to create from start to finish, I even got a little emotional at the end. I hope you enjoyed one of my favorite stories I've created in a long while.
As always, Read, Comment and Enjoy.