Discworld and Member Articles
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Simon the Evil Sorcerer: The First Book of Eggsic
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Written by drunkymonkey
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Sunday, 21 August 2005 |
Introduction to Eggsic
(It’s only short)
Eggsic is a planet, not a particularly good one, but there is no better example of how humans complicate things.
An example: On Eggsic, it rains everywhere for exactly ten minutes at 1pm. After ten minutes, if stops, and returns again the nest day, same time. Humans however, don’t get this simple concept. They reckon that some God of rain does it, and it rains at that time everyday because at that point of time the God Jek is on the toilet. Absurd. Yet the humans had accepted this as some sort of law.
A religion if you like.
Perhaps the most intelligent creature on Eggsic is the troll, it’s not because of what it knows (it regularly wins the stupidest creature on Eggsic competition*), no, it’s because of what it doesn’t know. They don’t know how to strive; they don’t know how to improve. They don’t know what to do in life. That’s because of the fact that that they’re happy with their lives how they are. They’re quite happy to sit around all day, eat deer and hit each other over the head with big sticks. That’s all they live for, and you know what? It makes them happy. The only thing they strive for is a bigger stick, and maybe another relative to inbreed with. They have simple goals, ones that can easily be achieved. Ones that they can and do achieve, they minds are not capable of wondering. It is true that they don’t have the minds to look for more. But sometimes, less is more.
Humans of course, strive, they always look for more, more knowledge, more materials, more friends, more life, what they fatally forget, is that in doing so, they lose a bit of themselves, the ignorant, happy side, once you know one thing you need to know ten other things, it’s a vicious cycle, and one we are all trapped into.
Humans either want something, or have a problem, Simon had both, he wanted the world, but he wasn’t taken seriously and just insulted. In the end he was happy.
He had Bucketshire, and he had happiness, he was happy with what he had achieved; he had captured a useless, resource less wreck. It made him happy. This might be because Simon had all the intelligence of a wooden spoon. But others aren’t so easily pleased.
Ian the Average Wizard wasn’t satisfied with Bucketshire and even a load of hot elf chicks, it was a bit fortunate then, that at end of the ‘Simon the Evil Sorcerer’ he met his doom.
Giants such watch where they’re going.
Trolls, orcs and goblins are all thought to be the most abusive, anti social creatures on Eggsic. This is not true. Humans are. If there were no humans on Eggsic, there’d be a lot less death. In recorded history, humans have caused 454 wars. The records have been running for 14 years. Goblins and orcs and trolls are the ones hired to fight and die. The simple fact is, they would have a lot more fun sniffing each other’s butts and farting. Humans it seems, like nothing better than war, it seems to be hobby for them, albeit a dirty, secret one, one for special occasions.
Of course, they have been exceptions; the legendary (among drag queens at least) goblin warrior Og led his army of warriors and simpletons to war with the great and noble city of Bignim ‘to pass the time until his birthday’, how appropriate then, that on his birthday, the enemy gave him a present he wouldn’t forget, an arrow through the head.*
Another example of goblins behaving badly is Neghub, he was a drug lord who led his army of smack heads and generally satisfied customers on a crusade to Yorkshin, for they heard that they was to be much Cannabis to be found there. They raped and pillage all that got in their way, stopping only for free booze and caffeine. Unfortunately, one day they were so disillusioned that they thought they were pigeons and so jumped off a very cliff, and into a conveniently placed pit of spikes.
The real pigeons still haven’t finished off biting off the little bits.
Enough of the strange and idiotic people of Eggsic, and onto the strange and utterly incomprehensible climate and place. Eggsic is a horrible place, full of ‘scary’ manufactured forests (as seen in ‘Simon’), polluted lakes, high mountains, littered cities and numerous marshes. There are a few deserts, but as there is nothing to them to make money from, they are largely ignored. The main five cities in the world are: Idlewind, capital city, not just of the United Places of Somewhere, but of the whole of Eggsic too. Recently though, it has become a place of tramps, irritating salesmen and fraud investigators. It’s also the place where all the major world leaders come together once a year to argue, bicker and call each other names. They try to work out policies, but tend to work out that they like each other less than last year. It is a worthwhile experience for all involved, and highly recommended if you are slimy, immoral and deaf. Or a politician as they like to call themselves. It gives the participants great pleasure to shout their big mouths off with incoherent sentences and long speeches that have absolutely nothing to do with the subject at hand, while totally ignoring the other person’s views, indeed, many of the members have made it a tradition to bring ear muffs and books to the meetings. Some of the older members like nothing better but to breath heavily and sigh whenever one member of the opposition comes to talk.
As a rule of thumb (it seems), every council meeting must bring with it at least one accusation that at least one of the members is in line with Satan, and in one fondly remembered meeting, the king of Zipbarbaque openly announced to a stunned crowd that he was being possessed by Satan, all good stuff, and it was great fun to see the once respected leader being dragged away screaming by the men in white robes.
The self titled ‘apprentice’ wasn’t the only one to get the council meetings flowing, not by a long shot, perhaps the worst case of the council meetings was when Mr. Bananas came into power in Scooterland, the other world powers were outraged when Mr. Bananas ignorantly and quite happily ate most of the after meeting buffet, before the meeting (most of the members only came for the cheap booze and drink and so this was a major annoyance) and then adding nothing of any value whatsoever to the meeting itself, much like the other members. He was terribly corrupted too, and sold his entire country to Asstria for a few bruised bananas, this was to be downfall, and he ran back to his forest in shame (or more likely happiness and ignorance), never to be seen again by the ‘civilised’ world.
Second in our list of bad cities is Rompton, a lovely mountain city, tucked away in the Bammy Mountains, miles away from any other civilization, and very dangerous to get on foot. However, the walk is worth it, as when you get there, you discover a town that is pure, everyone there seems to know each other, they have no outside influences, a very ignorant, conservative city, where industry and hard work is everything, tourism is worthless, even if Rompton gives you the greatest views in Eggsic, people just can’t be bothered to go there. It’s industry is unrivalled, selling sculptures and gold plated items gives it millions worth of trade, as does the rocks that don’t seem to do anything even remotely interesting except clogging up the coffee table.
Rompton has never been laid siege to or changed hands, its walls are centuries old, it’s still led by the same royal family as it started out with. It is a city of history, un touched by modernization, and because of it’s industry and ‘horny’ dwarves, it is the second biggest city in all of Eggsic. And one of the most respected. It also has a high tax rate*.
Third in our list is Greendown, a magical forest city, wrapped in bad magic shows, bad practical jokes and badly dressed fairies. It is a city made entirely of magical wood, unburnable and spelk free, and it is a city that is gifted (or cursed) with tourists, desperate to live in these glorified tree houses and check out the ‘hot elf chicks’.
It makes another wad of cash in it’s trade, selling off magical herbs and the like. It is supposed to be the most magical place on Eggsic, and when you see the Dancing Wizards Society, you will be in no doubt why.
Elves make up the majority of the population, and they mix with dwarves, humans, wizards and hookworm.
Fourth in our inane list is the noble post side town of St. Fred’s; it is one of the richest cities in the world, due to the many ships it constructs, and of the great amount of trade it makes, by selling odd shaped seashells that are no use to anyone but the seriously sad and small kids who believe you can hear the sea, just by putting it on your ear. Idiots.
It found it’s real fame though, in goblins, not in the killing of them though, not like other cities, but for the training of them. St. Fred’s is the only city that has goblins servants, trained to the menial jobs that humans don’t want. There’s goblin engineers, butlers, mechanics, blacksmiths, sales executives, all the silly jobs that humans don’t have the time to do. For the most part they do this very well, yes, they do occasionally slaver, and attack customers, but that is to be expected. Tourists flock all the time to see the cute little goblins run around doing their jobs, like setting tables, and putting out small fires, usually caused by themselves.
The fifth city on a list is Eldergo, the city that is second only to Idlewind, they are two rivals, of industry, tourism, war and money, both huge cities, with long histories, at the council meetings, the views of Eldergo are normally different to those of Idlewind. While the two cities normally do get along, there have been instances where they have been close to war, but being right minded, anti war cities, they have come to agreements in the end.
Their alliance is something that is often broken because of petty reasons, but always renewed in the end.
A word on the Gods of Eggsic, because naturally, when there are humans, there are Gods, and the Gods are whatever the people make up. In this case, luckily, the whole of Eggsic is under the Godly rule of five Gods, and five Goddesses, The Gods names are Conk, Bonk, Donk, Sonk, and Gonk, they are all extremely powerful, and have many a time interfered in the worlds of man, the Goddesses are Sara, Bara, Cara, Gara and Dara, and these Goddesses have little interest in Eggsic, and for the most part of their eternal existence try to look nice, which is all well and good, but the fact of the matter is, humans weren’t satisfied with the Gods blatant and random interfering (setting fire to cattle, putting mountains in different places, drowning pubs) and the Goddesses’ lack of interfering (putting make up on, eating fat free diets, laughing quietly, and so threatened the powers that be that they would stop believing in the Gods, and so they would all disappear, this was too much to bear for the chain smoking, make up obsessed deities, and so they agreed, as it stands now, they provide a healthy in put. The Head of the Gods, who has installed when the human rebellion happened, is Jek, and he is possibly the wisest being in the universe, I said possibly, but that’s like saying that Amsterdam is possibly the hardest place to find sex. He makes sure that they are all in order, and has never revealed his sex, although the Goddesses are quite sure he is a bloke, when asked why, they laugh and walk off, blushing.
The world is ripe with different species. Humans, goblins, orcs, zombies (of various allegiances), vampires, trolls, wizards, witches (both of which can be of any species), dryads, tress, animals, dwarfs, elves and loads of other fantasy creatures, it is a planet that the great political thinker, Edfart Von Hartit* once described has having all the bad parts of all the different other planets, just without the charm.
Eggsic is a planet, not a particularly good one, but for a series of books, it’ll do.
(I lied)
Simon the Evil Sorcerer
Chapter 1: Foiled again, again and again.
The prophet looked down at the book he was holding. The second age was coming, the age that would see the world be united under one strong ruler, and gone would be the days of the incompetent current ruler. There was to be soon a new King, a King good and noble, he wasn’t of noble birth, he wasn’t particularly fond of noble ideals but it would be he that would make Eggsic great.
The prophet raised an eyebrow, it didn’t say in the prophecy that the hero would be cynical…
Another day was starting in Eggsic; the moon went down, hiding itself from the newfound glory of light, given to Eggsic once again by the sun. People of Eggsic gradually woke, ready to face another day.
One of these people was Jim. Up until now there was nothing remotely special about him, he was just like everyone else, doing his job, eating at intervals when his stomach rumbled, sleeping when he was tired and getting annoyed at things.
His job was a dead end one, being a goblin executioner was dull and boring, the guts and blood were now part and parcel of the job, and the dying wanes of death sentenced goblins didn’t trouble him anymore.
His city was Bucketshire; The Farting Gnome, an aging warrior that resided in a fort just outside Bucketshire, led it. Once again, it was a boring dull place, mundane even to buskers, avoided by tourists. It was the very essence of a backward town. Indeed, it was a fairly exciting town some times, mostly when Simon the Evil Sorcerer TM decided he wanted to take over, but even that was predictable rubbish now. He was the world’s most unsuccessful super villain, indeed even calling his a super villain seemed a tad too kind, true he had armies of goblins just waiting for him to tell them to attack, but he was never seen close to actually achieving world domination.
He was a source of humour around Bucketshire and indeed the whole of Eggsic, plays were written about him, ballads were sung about him. Not kind or noble plays or ballads, but ones designed to take all morality and respect from Simon.
This was really grating him, and to be perfectly honest he was getting rather sick of it, he had promised that the next attack on Bucketshire would be the best yet, but no one got too worried, he had been saying that for years.
That didn’t stop him from putting all his futile effort in though, he was determined that more would join his cause, he made dodgy propaganda (Join us or die!) to more elaborate stuff, like giving his army pay rises and doing tours around cities on a majestic donkey. Most people just ignored this, they went about sleeping, eating and farting as usual, chances were, that Simon would be gone in a week, or maybe less.
The major problem with Simon was that he didn’t attract much decent help, goblins weren’t that good, while they were masochistic, loved rushing head long into battle and stabbing people they didn’t like, they had about as much understanding of tactics than a politician has of telling the truth.
Orcs were more intelligent sure (they could count up to four!) and didn’t eat as much, but they were snivelling creatures, cowards, and so were best left to the back of a battle, firing arrows and artillery.
Simon didn’t have much help after that, he had tried to get the trolls to help out, but they sniggered at him for no apparent reason and feel asleep, and the imps were too bothered breeding to fight, and the zombies had all turned into hippies, who just wanted to make love in their twilight years, with hilarious, but none the less gruesome consequences.
Simon felt like he would never take over the world, which upset, ever since he was a little toddler he had dreamed of world domination, crushing inferiors and cackling to himself. How he would win this war he would never know.
Back to Jim, after he had finished his shift swearing and cackling unconvincingly at the goblins that were on death row, he was called into his boss’s office.
His boss was a strange man, ugly, ginger and with an inane expression. He had a goatee, daft sideburns, and a stupid grin.
Also notable was his yellow waistcoat with red spots, this said less ‘goblin masher’ and more ‘goblin holiday home’. He was also incessantly cheerful, and would often talk with goblins about the meaning of life right before he ended theirs.
His name too, wasn’t scary, it was Freddo, it sounded cheerful, which certainly matched his personality, but not his job.
“Take a seat,” he said, grinning, this was to ensure that Jim could see his blue set of teeth that he prided himself on, Jim made a mental note to laugh later and then sat down, “nice set these,” he said, pointing at his mouth, “got them from John the Blacksmith down the road, excellent job I think.”
“Yeah,” Jim lied, “That blacksmith sure knows a thing or two about teeth,” it was meant literally, getting John the Blacksmith to arrange a set of false teeth was like getting Simon to consider democracy.
“You should try him sometime,” smiled Freddo, once again trying to emphasise his teeth. Horrible, “anyway, the reason I have thought you here for is that as you probably know, Simon the Evil Sorcerer TM is performing his annual bid for world domination, and the time has come to be nice to the goblins again, we don’t want them running off to Simon obviously, and Ian the Average Wizard (King of Idlewind) has already passed a law announcing we need to treat the little buggers with respect, that means no Mother bashing got that?”
“Yeah,” sighed Jim, there went another perk of the job, he had to do this ever year for about as month, it was irritating really, because it meant the goblins got confused, started asking questions and you had to answer their ignorance as quickly and as socially as possible. It also meant that the goblins ate sausages, ham and lots of other food that they wouldn’t normally get; this in turn made them more talkative.
“You may now leave,” ordered Freddo, as business like a possible, but in reality Jim knew that he liked the odd kick as well, and he too was annoyed at Ian the Average Wizard’s ruling.
Jim stepped out onto the empty street, Bucketshire was every naturalist’s nightmare, the town was a shadow of it’s former industrial might, since the early wars had finished, Bucketshire had struggled to find something else to do, it had tried to become a capitalist entertainment town, much like Bignim, but no one would come within a mile of the city, in case they turned into zombies. Tourism was also hard to achieve, they had tried to train goblins to do jobs, like Saint Fred’s, but all that seemed to happen was that the goblins ended up in Jim’s workplace, or ore precisely, in death row.
It wasn’t a dead town; to say that would be a big lie, the only reason why the streets were deserted at the minute for, was that tonight there was a play on, starting Cilla White. William Shakeyourspear scripted it, an aspiring playwright who was apparently on drugs, you would believe that statement too, if you has seen his latest masterpiece, ‘the Taming of the Old Bag.’ It was meant to be a clever, sophisticated play, but almost certainly had at least one scene where Cilla was in her knickers.
He was quite happy, walking along, kicking litter when he hard a voice above, it was a deep voice, and sounded dumb, that may have been because the person who owned the voice was drunk, or it may have been because he was a goblin, it was probably a mixture of these two things. Looking up, Jim saw that the goblins’ face has as pale as green could get, his eyes were bloodshot and almost shone.
“Get out of way you idiot,” he shouted at Jim, and then he jumped. Jim didn’t bother catching him; he was too busy wondering what a goblin was doing in Bucketshire when he hit the ground.
The thud that came from the ground was both unnerving and comparable to a fart. The goblin almost bounced as he hit the unforgiving ground. There was a short silence and then Jim bent down ad looked at the goblin, his eyes seemed to have been strained shut. After a while, he opened them.
“Am I dead yet?” the goblin asked anxiously.
“Nope,” said Jim, standing up, he lifted the goblin off the ground and dusted him off, “you should watch where you’re going.”
“That rule doesn’t apply to me, It applies to you!” said the goblin angrily, shoving away Jim’s hand, “idiot human, who do you think you are, trying to save me from suicide.”
“You’re the one trying to top yourself,” snorted Jim, he had a talent of saying things exactly how they were in a no nonsense, non subtle attitude, “would you like to explain to me why you had this sudden urge to die?”
“That’s none of your business mortal, so why don’t you scuttle along while you still have time, or I’ll have to kill you!”
“Right, and what would you kill me with?”
“With my bare hands!” said the goblin manically; it all looked rather silly, Jim was twice the size of the goblin.
“Of course you will,” smiled Jim unkindly, “but before you take away my life, explain to me why you were indeed, trying to kill yourself.”
“I say again, it’s none of your business!”
“You’re perfectly right, it is none my business,” said Jim, the goblin looked satisfied, “but what is my business is that there is a manic goblin wandering around Bucketshire, are you working for good old Simon?”
“I said shut up!” shouted the goblin, trying his best to punch Jim, “do you humans have a brain in there?” Jim was pushing his head away, “leave me in peace!”
“Right okay, I’ll just have to inform the old bill then, unless you want to tell me what you’re doing jumping of buildings and starting fights?”
“I’m…quite happy the way I am think you,” Jim gave him an angry look and opened his mouth to speak, “oh alright, I’m trying to kill myself.”
“Yes,” sighed Jim, “we’ve already established that, what I want to know is why, an what you are doing here.”
“’Cos I’m worthless,” cried the goblin.
“Oh great,” moaned Jim, “you’re a goth aren’t you? I didn’t know there were gothic goblins, should have paid attention at school.”
“No, I’m not like that, it’s because no one wants me,” sobbed the goblin, “I tried to sign up with Simon to fight the god fight and all that, but he said he was looking for something a bit better this year, and instead of that, I should try and see if the horse are planning a rebellion this year* but they’re not, so I came here to sign up for Bucketshire, but they told me to drop down dead,” the goblin looked sad, and totally fed up, he took a deep breath, “but these buildings aren’t tall enough.”
Jim frowned, he put his hands in his pockets and grunted, “Come with me,” he said, beckoning the goblin to follow.
“Are you going to some taller buildings?”
“Something like that,” said Jim.
In truth, taking the goblin to a bigger building to jump off wasn’t what Jim was doing, that would be just stupid, no, he was taking him to a safe-house, where he would be respected, old Brian would see to that.
Considering Jim was an executioner, he could get very close to goblins. When he first started out as an executioner, goblins didn’t have minds, they liked to eat babies, they would attack anyone who came near them, and they were the spawn of Satan. They didn’t have any feelings either, for themselves, family or anyone for that matter, they quite happily killed everybody, and they were just living killing machines.
It took several years for Jim to realize this wasn’t the case, often the goblins were innocent, brought into battle by their evil overloads (or incidentally, were humans), and some goblins just wanted to be loved. So Jim teamed up with a pacifist called Barry and together they tried their best to give innocent goblins a fresh start,. They couldn’t put them back into society, but they damn well could enter them into a different one.
And so Jim bought a warehouse, it used to be used for making weapons and armour and other slaughter devices, until people suddenly realized that they didn’t need all this stuff because the only think threatening them nowadays were a few rebellious hamsters who lived at the bottom of people’s gardens trying to chew away at the walls.
With his new warehouse, Jim could finally start smuggling goblins out of death row and into the warehouse, once there the goblins were free to do whatever they wanted as long as it wasn’t violent or involved doing highly repulsive things to their close relatives.
Of course, people were going to get suspicious about all these goblins were going, so Jim mad up the double lie of them going back to the dreaded Simon, and to prevent this, Jim had to kill them and burn their bodies quickly.
And it worked, since a year ago, hundreds of goblins now inhabited the warehouse, all right, so it wasn’t much, it was stuffy, and it smelt slightly of off pork, but it was better than nothing.
Jim walked to the door of the warehouse, and knocked the special knock, it was to the tune of a song called Wannabe, handed down from generation to generation, noted for it’s sheer awfulness, the young ‘uns tended to like it though.
“It’s Jim, I’ve brought another one.”
Barry opened the door slightly, just to check, and then opened it fully, “Christ Jim, you scared the hell out of me, you don’t normally come this late, bring the goblin in, “ he gently pushed Jim out of the direction he was travelling, “don’t step on that, one of the idiots was sick on the carpet, mind where your feet go.” Barry was a short man, just taller than the goblin Jim brought in with him, he had long brown hair and a short beard, which he constantly pulled in times of stress, he wore a cape with the words 50 Cent written on it, it was said that the person named was a singer, and whoever listened to him would die in extreme agony. Barry was pulling his beard.
“I can see things aren’t going well,” smiled Jim kindly, he could see the strain on Barry’s eyes, he was still pulling his beard
“You know Jim, I can’t do this anymore, we need to get someone new, I know we’re a good team but…” Jim held out a hand.
“Barry, you have been saying that for years, and you have never ever quit, you’ll still be going in a wheelchair, you’ll probably pop round every now again from your coffin.”
“I know, but I mean it now, I’m 64 Jim, I know you’re getting on yourself too.”
“I’m 30, I wouldn’t consider that old.”
“Nor me,” smiled Barry weakly, “but it is true we need successors.”
“I’ll try my best,” said Jim.
“What is this place?” asked the goblin, looking around, curiously at the other goblins.
“A warehouse full of goblins,” grunted Barry.
“You’re new home,” added Jim.
“What’s his name anyway?” asked Barry, looking the goblin up and down.
“Opop,” said the goblin, “and for one thing, I’m not staying here.”
“What?” asked Barry, turning to Jim as if Opop was speaking gibberish.
“I’m not staying here,” the goblin repeated, his voice unimpressed, “I came to Bucketshire to get away from the bloody goblins, and now you tell me I have to live with them?”
“Where else do you propose to go?” asked Jim, Opop cocked his head, and shuffled nervously.
“I’ll find, a, a place.”
“No you bloody well won’t,” said Jim angrily, “the only place you can stay around here is a coffin, or maybe a bin if the local kids find you first.” Opop dropped his head, it was true, Jim was right; Bucketshire was a death trap for goblins, he couldn’t survive on his own, he rose in head.
“I could go with you,” he said warily.
“Don’t be stupid!”
“What’s stupid about it?”
“I live by myself!”
“Well now’s the chance to change isn’t it?”
Jim grunted, he could feel common sense giving away, Barry tapped him on the shoulder. “Look,” he said, “I better go, that goblin over there just ate a plastic fruit, it was cursed.” And he ran off to resuscitate the goblin.
“You see?” said Opop, disgusted, “this place is an utter dump!”
“Don’t you dare say that!” Jim raged, “This place cost me time, money and effort! And you know what? Me and Barry get no thanks at all!”
“Well let me be the first to thank you,” said the goblin, “but I don’t like this place, you see, the goblins here aren’t like me, they just follow orders, like sheep, I’ve learnt to see thing differently, I can see that Simon is wrong, just as I can see the humans are prejudice and no better, you are one of the better ones admittedly.”
“Oh, right, thanks,” muttered Jim, “alright, you can stay one night, maybe two if you’re lucky, but that’s just because you’re a self abusive. You do realize how much danger you will be in? ”
“A lot.”
“A lot more than a lot,” said Jim, not actually making any sense.
“I can probably handle that.”
“You better be able to,” smirked Jim, “because if you can’t, it’s the coffin for you.”
Chapter Two: Having a Goblin for a lodger can be awkward, especially when you’re on the toilet.
Welcome to the stupidest named chapter ever (more coming up!)! Are you ready for more fun? Hurray!
Opop wasn’t the best person to live with; he was immature (a quality that Jim despised), smelly and had a doggish quality about him.
Jim chalked this up to settling down badly; he had agreed to keep him for a longer period of time, because in his own words ‘the goblin showed promise’, promise in what exactly only Jim knew, but he put up with it.
As the days went on though, living with the goblin turned into a sacrifice of sanity, you had to be home early, so no going to the pub, you had to double (or maybe triple) the amount spent on food, so no buying natty new clothes or swords, and you had to make sure Opop never went out, which meant 24/7 surveillance, so in turn Jim had to buy a dog, one tame enough to tame, but at the same time, one scary enough to make sure Opop didn’t do anything he shouldn’t behind Jim’s eye. Jim found the perfect one while in pet shop.
Rover, the shop’s owner, was brought up in a family of dogs, his parents were so blinded by dogs they called their only son Rover, they literally didn’t know any better, he supposed it was better than being called Spot, or Andrex, but Rover was still a silly name.
The shop itself was full of animals that you wouldn’t think of existing if you didn’t see them in a shop owned by a man called Rover, there were parrots that had horns, cats that had six legs, and most interestingly of all, a dog with three heads.
“I’ll take that one,” said Jim, pointing at the black dog.
“Hang on,” Rover said, he went over and opened the cage, the dog walked off and circled Jim, apparently shaping up it’s new owner.
“Nice dog,” Jim said.
“Yeah, we got him from some woman in Idlewind, sad case it was, they were the closest companions, until she grew a phobia of heads, had to give it away.”
“Terrible,” sighed Jim, “anyway, how much is the dog?”
“32 quid.”
“Here you go.”
“Thanks, enjoy your dog.”
It turned out that the dog was perfect for the job, but it also meant having to buy more food. Jim named it Ben.
Opop slept underneath the dining room table, Ben slept in the kitchen, it would mean any late night pilgrimages to the kitchen for light snacks would be cut short, Opop’s idea of a light snack consisted of a three course meal, dessert and for pints of mineral water (which Jim tricked Opop into think it was lager, surprisingly though, Opop still managed to get drunk.).
Opop had found a new habit of reading, he got Jim to read him a lovely magazine Opop had subscribed to called Dragon Fantasy, needless to say, when Opop discovered what it all meant, the subscription stopped immediately, as did the subscriptions to Mage Paradise and What’s UP with IMPS. The subscriptions may have stopped, but the nightmares remained. But now, he was reading impressively, he had got through half of Jim’s book collection and was now storming his way through How to survive against an attacker armed with a piece of fresh fruit.
Jim’s work was still as boring as ever, until one day his boss called him back into the office.
“Hello Jim!” he said in his usual cheesy grin.
“Yes sir?”
“Bad news I’m afraid, Simon has declared war.”
“Oh,” Jim said, it would be hard to keep Opop a secret.
“Oh would be the word,” said Freddo, “Apparently Simon’s army is bigger and more deadly than it ever has been, I cannot say too much more yet, but Ian the Average Wizard is going to make a speech in Idlewind soon enough. I’ll tell you what he says after you have finished your shift, is that alright?”
“I suppose it will have to be,” said Jim, he stood up, “thanks for telling me.”
The day went on as normal, with being kind to the goblins high on the agenda, which sort of went against being an executioner was about, the policy was to give the goblins ‘a happy and fulfilled death’, Jim guessed that this was to make up for the sad and empty life that they had.
The time had come for Freddo to ask Jim back into the office, when he stepped inside, Jim instantly knew something was wrong, Freddo wasn’t grinning, in fact he looked sane. Something must have been up.
“Don’t bother sitting down,” said Freddo, looking up from his notes, “this will be quick.”
“I haven’t been discriminative against any goblins,” said Jim quickly, “I even let them play a game of ‘I Spy’.”
“No, it’s not that,” Freddo sighed, “I’ve been told to tell you that you have been selected for service in the army, The Dark Lord Simon TM is stronger than we first thought. We need as many men as possible to go to Helm’s Deepend, the fort just outside the city, and fight. You are to go home and pack for war, a dragon will be coming tomorrow to pick you up and escort you to the fort. I will get someone to do your shift for you tomorrow, but for now, go home.”
Jim swallowed hard, sweating, he opened his mouth. “Can’t I just stay here,” he said, tilting his head a bit to the left, “I’m more use here.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Freddo softly, “this place is going out of commission this time tomorrow, Ian the Average Wizard has said we need to focus on re-education camps instead of these crumbling bits of stone.”
It seemed Jim had run out of options, he nodded sadly. “Can I take someone with me?”
“I cannot say,” said Freddo, he looked rather odd, rather like he was sick, “that will be up to the dragon that comes for you.”
“Okay, what will happen to you by the way?”
“I’m taking charge of the camp, should be fun.” It seemed to Jim that even though the camp would have a much brighter mood than death row, Freddo would not enjoy it half as much. His voice was shaky, “Jim, you have bee a good worker, always obedient, and I admire you for that, but now we must part, maybe I will see you again, I hope I do. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” Jim mumbled, and he walked out the door.
Jim was packing his bag; he had the necessities, the likes of his sword called Sarah and his shield, chain mail, and boots. He had packed a small dinner, cheese sandwiches, and he had also packed a flask of mineral water, once again disguised as lager. Opop entered the room. “You’re not leaving are you?” the goblin asked suspiciously.
“Yes,” said Jim, closing his bag, “and you are too.”
“Where to?” asked Opop, perhaps trying to get in the way (which, if he was trying, he was doing a spectacularly good job at.).
“Fort called Helm’s Deepend,” said Jim, “just outside Bucketshire, don’t know what it’s like, never been there before.”
“Hmm,” said Opop thoughtfully, “and you want me to go?”
“Yes,” said Jim.
“How?”
“No idea at the minute,” said Jim, “anyway, you never said that Simon was getting really powerful.”
“I didn’t think I had to,” said Opop, “he’s been saying he’s getting bigger, that’s why he denied me, I’ve been fighting in the last four wars, he thought now was a good time to let me go, “ he smiled weakly, “I got the heroes’ exit and everything.”
“Which is?”
“Being thrown out a window, quite refreshing,” Opop went on and Jim looked at him, open mouthed, “he said that the next war was going to e a great career move for him and he had got some fresh talent to do his evil bidding.”
“Fresh talent? Who exactly?”
“He didn’t say, he just laughed manically,” said Opop, and then he tried to reconstruct the laugh.
“Stop that, it’s awful,” said Jim, feeling agitated, “go and pack your stuff, and come back when you’ve got everything, I’ll have to disguise you.” Opop walked off, and returned five minutes later with a suitcase that was empty was it not for a plank of wood Jim thought remarkable like his garden fence and a dustbin lid.
“What’s these?” he asked Opop impatiently.
“They’re my weapons,” smiled Opop, although he looked embarrassed.
“No there aren’t,” said Jim sternly, “here, have one my swords,” he handed him a yellow sword, “it’s called Billy, it’s yours, look after it.”
“Thanks,” said Opop.
“And that bin lid, I suppose it’s your idea of a shield?” Opop nodded reluctantly, “yes? Thought so, here, have this shield,” Jim took a shield emblazoned with the log AC DC on it, and lightening bolts in between, “make sure it doesn’t break, it’s the only one you’re getting, it’s a good one too.” Opop took it thankfully, and then put it in his suitcase.
“What about my disguise?” he asked, “I’m not exactly human looking, I’m green for a start.”
“Are you?” Jim smirked sarcastically, “I didn’t actually ever notice.”
Opop ignored him. “What are we going to about it?”
“Well,” smiled Jim, “in the light of recent discoveries, I’ll have to kill you.”
“What?” Opop shouted, leaping back.
“Relax it was a bad joke,” Jim said, “Executioners cane make jokes too.”
“Trouble is, they’re normally about death or something nasty like that.”
“Right, the only thing we can do is claim you’ve got a disease or something, stick a moustache on you and out some more hair on you, don’t worry, it’ll be a wig. Then we’ll put a cloak on you as well, and call you something good and ordinary, like Tony, is that all right?”
“I’ll still be green though won’t I?” Opop said, very annoyed, “People will see right through me,”
“That’s why I’m gonna have to paint you pink, hopefully people won’t realise you’re not a human, I’ll just say you got a rare skin condition, asthma or something.”
“They must be pretty dumb if they don’t see through it,” groaned Opop. “Anyway, when are you gonna do it?”
“Tomorrow, I’m going to bed now anyway, see ya,” Jim said, before closing the door.
Neither of them could sleep that well that night, needless to say that they were worried about having their guts cut out in increasingly nasty and imaginative ways.
As night feel over the world of Eggsic, armies of goblins and orcs marched on through the night, they’re destination was always our hero’s destination, in the old and murky fort of Helm’s Deepend.
There was also…other things, that stomped on through the night, things that could only be on Eggsic, things that are made solely of dreams anywhere else, but were walking, flying, hovering, sliming, swimming all towards the fortress of Helm’s Deepend, it’s walls massive, it’s battlements daunting, it’s warriors many.
And then morning came, and these figures were revealed, although not to you.
At least not yet.
Jim woke with a start, he could hear the harsh rain beat down on the roof of his house; a look outside of his window showed it was a gloomy miserable day, one of those days where you wake up and wish you hadn’t.
They did get up though, at 8am, and Jim, not the greatest artist in the world, made a hurried mess of Opop’s face and body, it was actually kind of funny, Opop certainly didn’t think so, he thought it was the end of the world.
“How did it come to this?” he said sadly, staring at the mirror, at least he didn’t look like a goblin, Jim merely shrugged, “I mean I know I’ve done some bad things, but I still don’t deserve this.”
“No time for you sob story, it’s almost 10am, let’s wait outside,” said Jim, blowing out the lights.
They went out into the back garden, Jim couldn’t help noticing that part of his fence had gone; he glared at Opop, who looked away. The rain was still lashing down, and the cobbles of the street glinting proudly. Looking up Jim could see a pigeon in the sky, it was a mad one, Jim could tell by the straightjacket and bandages on it’s head.
Up in the sky the heard a massive roar, Jim turned his eyes around and saw a green dragon, it’s eyes a brilliant yellow, it’s teeth shining white, the tips of which looked impossibly sharp, it landed proudly in the garden, putting it’s snout up and roaring proudly, it was all very irritating Jim thought.
“Are you my escort?” asked Jim, backing away, which was just as well, as a second later the dragon blew out some fire, just missing him by inches.
“Yes,” said the dragon in a monotone, bored voice, “and who is your…. friend?”
“It’s my cousin,” said Jim quickly, “he wants to help fight.”
“Oh,” the dragon said, almost disapprovingly, “I suppose he can come along, just make sure he keeps my back clean.” Opop rolled his eyes angrily, “anyway, my name is Pete.”
“Hello Pete, my name is…” started Jim.
“Jim, I know, I’m kept up to date with these things,” interrupted Pete.
“Okay then, how long will it take you get to Helm’s Deepend?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t think more than a couple of hours,” said Pete, looking bored.
“Right,” said Jim, climbing on Pete’s back and dragging Opop up, “what is this Helm’s Deepend anyway?”
“Terrible, terrible place,” said the dragon, “totally mundane, but Simon thinks it’s useful, we’re not giving it away that easily, trouble is, most of the fortifications are made out of cheap cardboard and plaster of Paris, we’ve got a lot of men there, some leading wizards and dwarfs, like Rodger the Incredibly Hairy and Haggis the Bright Purple are there too.”
“What about Ian the Average Wizard?” asked Jim, “is he there?”
“No,” the dragon moaned, “of course not, he wouldn’t dare go anywhere where he is likely to be killed, far too cowardly for that, no, he’s still in Idlewind, he made a speech though, apparently it was his best yet, although that isn’t saying much.”
“I’ve always know he was a bad leader,” said Jim, the land of Bucketshire blurred underneath them, he could see the city, and it’s citizens, gazing up and waving, he could see the clouds, maybe arms distance above. He could hear Opop and the dragon talking about goblins, he could see…what?
“Yeah, I’ve always said,” said Opop, “terrible things, goblins, but a lot of them are made to do their master’s biddings.”
“I suppose,” said Pete, “but you have to remember that there is such a thing as free will.”
“Hmm,” said Opop, deep in thought, “it’s true, but when you’re threatened with death, you will do anything.”
“Ah, but you see,” said Pete, pressing his point, “if goblins truly were good, they would all rise up and defeat their masters.”
“Fair enough,” smiled Opop, “but I believe you’re being a tad stereotypical, I mean is it fair to blame the entire goblin race because some of them will not rebel?”
“What was Helm’s Deepend before it was a fort?” asked Jim, trying to get off the subject.
“It used to be a fairground, huge it was, the size of a city, it had everything, Ferris wheels, Roller Coasters, cheap candy floss machines, it was great, until it was discovered that the rides were powered by trolls, and Health and Safety shut it down, the troll population has never recovered since, they got paid well there, now they can hardly afford to make a living, the RSPCT, Royal Society of the Protection and care of trolls do everything they can, but saying there’s no royalty since good old mad King Mayidancewithyouplease died, hardly anyone is giving any money.”
“What’s wrong with trolls doing it?” asked Jim.
“Oh, nothing, it’s just their appearance puts squeamish types in a frenzy, it’s not well known that trolls are the gentlest creatures ever, but the fact they’re so pig ugly lets them down.”
“You say, that’s prejudice again,” said Opop sternly, “trolls being cast out of jobs because of the way they look!”
“I have to agree there,” snorted the dragon, “we goblins have always been thought to have been evil, but look at me, I’m a good guy. He army couldn’t function without us.”
“And you know who makes these accusations?” asked Opop angrily.
“Who?”
“Humans!”
“Well said!” shouted the dragon.
“Who have we got for the war by the way?” asked Jim, once again trying to skip the subject, “apart from humans and you dragons?”
“Well, Well we’ve struck a lucrative five year deal with the dwarves, and the dragons of joined in for a laugh, we’re trying to get the Grim Reaper on our side too, he said he will if we buy him a nifty new cloak, so we’ve sent our spies on a bargain hunt to weed out the best deals, so far we’ve found a great one, saying On the highway to Hell on the back, he seems to love it.
“We’ve also got the giants to help out, they do every year, but this year they promise to be extra careful not to step on us.”
“That’s kind of them,” grunted Jim.
“Apart from that,” said Pete, ignoring Jim, “it’s just us, but if we…”
“We can do it, I’ve heard it all before Pete, and I’m not going to suddenly start believing it now,” said Jim sternly.
“Yeah well,” Pete sighed, “It hasn’t really harmed us has it?”
The rest of the journey was taken up by a conversation Opop and Pete were having about the morality of fishing, but Jim was spared going insane when Helm’s Deepend came into view. It was, let’s just say, interesting, interesting in the way that it looked like a giant penis, Helm’s Deepend was painted pink*, had an absolutely massive walkway into the fort, and a huge city was behind this walkway, reaching from the far left to the far right. It all looked rather silly. Jim could just make out the distant figures of soldiers on the walls, spears held up in the air, elsewhere, he could see, just outside the city giants compare club sizes, their massive figures threatening to even their allies. Dragons arrived and departed from the fort, carrying various warriors, heroes and noblemen.
Pete dropped them off just in front of the city gates, standing next to a giant penis was a bit unnerving, “So,” Pete said, his voice as bored as ever, funny, it seemed to get quite excited when talking to Opop, “this is where we depart.”
“Okay mate,” said Jim, patting the dragon, “you’ll be back for the battle?”
“Of course, The Farting Gnome (Commander of Helm’s Deepend) needs dragons like me to lead the charge, you need to report to the arrival’s terminal. While you’re hear you might as well get some booze, it’s going cheap what with the end of the world sales they always do, ever year,” Jim and Opop jumped off his back, “anyway, I better go, I’m picking up Molungis the Moderately Strong. Bye.”
“Right, bye then,” said Jim, watching the dragon gain height.
“Nice talking to you!” Opop shouted loudly; Pete gave a huge roar, a ball of fire into the sky and then he soared off.
“Right then,” said Jim, “we better go arrive.”
Chapter 3: Getting into a fight with one man and his asthma suffering cousin is a really reliable way to die
Jim and Opop walked through the gate of Helm’ Deepend and were met with terrible buskers, cheap shops and wizard tramps trying to impress people by summoning sudden flashes of light. Jim, by instinct, hated it.
Walking into the arrivals building, he could see several columns of people waiting in line to get registered, joining the shortest one, he was annoyed to discover the man in front didn’t speak the language and spent a quarter of a hour behind him while he tried to tell the snotty woman at the counter about himself.
After he had finally gotten through, Jim stepped up, the woman, who wore glasses vaguely resembling a boy who goes to a criminally under funded school, “smiled at him warily. “Hello, you are?”
“Jim,” Jim said.
“And your friend is?” asked the woman suspiciously.
“That’ll be Tony,” Jim lied, “cousin of mine, comes from… Scooterland.”
“Oh, a foreigner!” the woman squeaked with delight, looking at Opop as if to say ‘you’re not from around here so you must be thick!’
“He can’t speak our language though, has real difficulty with it, one thing he can speak though,” he smiled at Opop nastily, “he can speak the language of love.”
“Oh I bet he can, the little rascal!” she laughed, while Opop looked shocked at Jim.
“Any reports on what we’re up against?” asked Jim.
“I know nothing more than anyone else,” said the woman, sniffing, “you might find more out when you’re in the city, you’re free to go now, have a look round, just don’t annoy the commanders or guards, they’re very likely to have you killed.”
Jim nodded at he and Opop walked out, careful to avoid the dodgy sales people and clipboard carriers, and together they stepped out into the sunlight.
“I hate you, you know,” said Opop, giving Jim a dirty look.
“Why?”
“Bloody language of love my ass!” said the coloured in pink goblin. Jim laughed, it didn’t take anything to annoy Opop, and he loved doing it.
“You’ve always struck me as the romantic sort Opop,” smirked Jim, Opop looked away, ignoring him.
Loads of shops and businesses were advertising end of the world sales, one greatly took Opop’s attention, a brothel with a poster outside saying ‘Get your last one here!’ it was quite unnerving how little confidence the people had about their fate. Jim was eager to know more about it (his fate, not the brothel) and so went to one of the information outposts headed by a soldier. Not many people were there, and the duo got to the front of the crowd quickly and without problems.
“In our battle with the enemy we expect to encounter these hostiles: Orcs, goblins, that is for sure, but our spies inform us that there are more dangers ahead of us, it is believed that the Dark Lord Simon TM has recruited a new and very dangerous new race, the football hooligan, these monsters work in large groups of ten or more attacking buildings with fire bombs and people with broken bottles. A diplomat has also promised a new enemy, one that can fly, and drop bombs, we need to be on the lookout for these creatures; Simon might try and pull off a surprise attack.”
At least now things were a little clearer, Jim now knew what he would be facing, and was worried where he would be in all this, whether as cannon fodder or as the proper defence. He felt the former to be more realistic, Jim had virtually no battle experience and the closest he had come into being in danger was indigestion.
He still felt they weren’t being told everything, the same old stick together routine, it was scary to think that this time, Simon might just win. The new flying creature, was that just a ploy for getting people ready? Or was this threat genuine?
He tried not to think about it, but it was hard to forget, turning to Opop, he said, “Well, if these are to be our last few days alive, we might as well have fun…”
“I agree,” said Opop happily, and he pointed at a restaurant, “I reckon we should start there.” The restaurant in question was called ‘Big Dave’s’, and it prided itself on selling only the most greasy, bowel kicking food ever known to man or goblin. It was a little way up the hill they were facing.
Walking up the hill, the duo really took in the ambience of Helm’s Deepend; the sun was blazing down, melting the helpless snow away. Children picked up the remains of the snow, chucking it at each other full force, it was all rather sickening Jim thought, and then he made a note: Don’t EVER have kids.
You would have never know that a war was going on, except by the big imposing yet strangely capitalistic ‘End of the World’ sale signs that seemed to be outside every single shop, not just that, but the ‘End is coming’ sandwich board men looked suitable smug.
Entering into the shop, it was seen that it was quite busy; apparently people just didn’t care about their weight anymore, another sign that people didn’t seem there was any hope left. Jim wondered about this, back home no one was particularly bothered, but here, it was different, the only people who weren’t bothered here were the kids. What had changed, apart from distance, or maybe that was the main factor…
“What will you be having then?” asked the spotty woman at the counter.
Jim opened his mouth, but he then realized Opop was speaking first, “We’ll have your most exotic food,” said the goblin, “and have this tip!” Jim rolled his eyes, it would have been all right if he was tipping the woman with his money, but it was Jim’s.
Two minutes later they were sitting in front of chips, sausages, egg, bacon, fish and tomato. As mentioned early, it was all very greasy, perhaps unbearably so, but that didn’t seem to trouble Opop, the goblin was cheerfully eating it all, while reading the newspaper.
“Interesting,” he said, looking up, “Ian the Average Wizard has made another speech.”
“Not surprising,” said Jim, firmly unimpressed by whatever Ian did.
“Yeah, it says here, ‘The only reason I am not that Helm’s Deepend to fight along side the brave citizens of Eggsic is because I have an urgent meeting with my secretary. And my back’s gone again, I urge you to pray to the Gods to look down favourably on me.’”
“Why doesn’t he just tell the truth and tell everyone he’s terrified?” asked Jim, he always found Ian the Average Wizard to be the worst King of Idlewind since King Who’sacleverboythen (who, strangely enough, was a dog, who took over rule of the throne from King Wasp, his owner. Under King Who’sacleverboythen’s reign, 6 million pound was spent solely on dog biscuits and soft toys, the only reason why Idlewind got out of that particular mess was via the dog contracting fleas and dying.).
“I suppose he doesn’t want to look bad,” said Opop.
“At the expense of everyone in Helm’s Deepend? If he is really doing that, I’ve got no sympathy for his back, in fact I hope it breaks.”
“Me too actually.”
“How much did this food cost anyway?” asked Jim irritably.
“Eighteen quid.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Jim moaned angrily, “I knew going to this place was a bad idea, now I’ve hardly got any money left.”
“The reason the food is too expensive,” burped Opop, shaking his fork (which now had a sausage on the end of it) dozily at Jim, “is because they need the money to make the food this good.”
“I’d hate to see how much good food cost then,” Jim said, arching his back on the chair. He looked up at a bald man, with his arms folded, looking very annoyed at Jim, “Yes?” Jim asked, trying not to sound anxious.
“What you saying about this food?” the man, who had a very deep, threatening voice, asked.
“I was just saying how rubbish it was,” said Jim, trying to say it as conversationally as he could.
“You little rat,” the man stormed, obviously he was a regular here, he was fat, “no one ever, ever calls my local rubbish!”
“I’m sure they don’t,” said Jim, standing up from his chair, and slowly walking to the door, the man’s breath on him. He tried to turn the door handle; it was locked, “but I must be an exception,” Jim said, trying to sound polite.
“You know what happens to exceptions eh?” asked the man; clearly he didn’t have a clue what exceptions were.
“Not at all sorry,” said Jim, “I’m not up with the local cultures.”
“They’re gutted,” snarled the man.
“Oh dear,” said Jim, just dodging a fist to the head, the blow almost knocked the door of its hinges. The man roared with rage, and once again ran at Jim, his face a symbol of hatred. Jim just moved out of the way in time, and the man smashed right into a table.
“Opop you idiot!” shouted Jim, the room was silent, all eyes were on the fight, “I mean, Tony, help me out will you?” At this, two of the bald man’s friend tried to knock down Opop, who drew out his shield and whacked them both over the head.
The bald man got to his feet, and walked towards Jim, his arms in the air, Jim tried his best to do some damage (kicking him in the shin.) but the man grabbed him by the throat, and he was just about to bring him back down to Earth when Opop kicked his left heel, the man bellowed in pain, and Jim feel right on top of him.
It wasn’t over yet though, the bald man’s two friends had gotten up, and were shaking their heads, they both lunged Opop, who they quickly got to the floor, but Jim picked up a round table and smacked them both over the head, probably knocking them out for good. The bald man stood up, he head was shaking and he looked like he could rip Jim’s spine out in one blow now, he charged at him, but once again Jim sidestepped out of the way, and he collided with the wall full force, it appeared he was bored of the fight, as he withdrew his mace, waved it around a bit, and hit it on a table, which shattered with the impact immediately.
Jim tried to get a punch in, he tried to unsheathe his sword, but the bald man kicked him down, he raised he mace and was about to strike when suddenly, and quite miraculously, a sword shot right through him. His body leaked with blood, he looked at Jim with both shock and rage and then fell down.
Opop had gotten up, and now pulled the sword out of the opposite wall. The tow friends of the bald man stood up, shaking their heads, saw the body of their leader, looked at Jim and Opop with sheer horror on their face and ran out the door.
There was silence in the room for several minutes while Jim and Opop regained their breath, and then Jim said, “what’s everyone staring at?” and they went out the door into the street.
“I say we shop now,” said Opop, unfazed by the carnage he had been part of.
“That’s a stupid idea,” grumbled Jim.
“Why?”
“Because of one simple reason,” sniffed Jim, “we haven’t got any money to shop with.
“Bugger,” said Opop sadly, “where did it go?”
“You spent it on that interrupted dinner,” grunted Jim.
“Can we get some more?” asked Opop, his eyes were transfixed on passing shops selling their ways, most precisely book shops, he had a want for knowledge Jim had never seen.
“I suppose we should go to the town centre and apply for some.”
The town centre was a mind boggling sight, in the middle was a giant pillar, reaching up into the sky, at the stop of the pillar was the statue of Bucketshire’s greatest hero, Claude the Psycho, he was noted for being manically depressed, mentally unstable and good with a sword, he lived a few hundred years ago, where goblins were led by fearsome leaders bent on destruction, he was one of the fore runners of the right again them, not caring about what happened to his life was a bonus, he literally couldn’t say no, ‘go attack that legion of trolls there Claude!’ ‘Rightio sir!’ ‘Claude, take on that Demi-God!’, ‘Consider it done sir!’
It was surprising then, that he didn’t actually die in battle, but from the shock of retirement. It’s said that although he had many regrets about his life, no one had any regrets about him. Apart from the fact he wrote poetry of course*.
To the left of the pillar was the government centre, a huge building, 12 storeys high, 800 metres long, inside was the office where Jim could claim some of the money that he had in Bucketshire, but of course now, it was heavily guarded.
They were about to enter the courtyard when a guard, 6’5, looking about 400 pounds, stepped in front of them.
“Where do you think you’re gong?” asked the guard.
“To the council building stupid,” smirked Opop, the guard glared at him, Opop wasn’t smirking anymore, he looked in pain; Jim was standing on his foot.
“Sorry about my cousin, his pet died today,” said Jim hurriedly, Opop was about to ask how Jim knew Ben had died when he caught on not to say anything.
“Good for him,” chuckled the guard nastily.
“Anyway, my dear chap,” Jim was putting on his flattery voice, normally brought into action when he didn’t like the person he was speaking to, but he was trying to get something out of them, “we are part of the fort’s great and noble defence against the invading armies, and we need to get into the council building to further this.”
The guard laughed, rubbed his abnormally large stomach, and stayed where he was, in front of Jim and Opop.
“Find anything funny?” asked Jim, irritated.
“Sure do,” laughed the guard, he seemed intent on being unhelpful, “you and your skin disease suffering cousin here think I’m going to let you in, and that’s hilarious!”
“You are going to let them in though, aren’t you Clive?” a voice came from behind; it was a woman’s voice, very stern it was, young, but one that knew exactly what is was doing.
“Oh, um, yes miss,” muttered the guard, he lost his laugh, and now was quiet.
The woman in question was clad neck to toe in armour, silver armour, it shined in the daylight, she had a long sword, longer than Jim’s at any rate, it looked dwarven, as in heavily sharpened and made by small men in caves. Her face was never what Jim would expect to see on a warrior’s face, true, it had a couple of cuts on it, but the woman’s eyes were dark, misty blue, he brown hair was flowing around freely, untied.
She didn’t look like she had killed many, but the way Clive looked at her seemed that she was a very dangerous woman, in fact, Jim thought that she had a face that said ‘if you even dare to look at my butt, it’ll be the last thing you do.’
“What did I tell you before Clive?” she said angrily, “no annoying VIPs! Once more and we’ll have to send you out for the goblins to practice firing arrows, and with all that blab you got,” she prodded him, “you’ll make tasty meal.” She turned to Jim and Opop, who looked stunned at her, “We’ve been expecting you Jim, follow me, bring your friend too.”
Jim nodded absently and decided to follow, while he followed her through the courtyard he wondered what she meant by VIP, Jim wasn’t a VIP, to suggest so would be madness.
He and Opop followed the woman through the door of the citadel, and what they saw was a surprise, they expected to see a long, stone corridor, with skeletons hanging from the ceiling and mad men cackling to themselves. Instead, they saw a huge hall, clad with expensive wallpaper and carpet, and full to the brim with various flags for different things.
“Shabby isn’t it?” asked the woman, yawning.
“No not really,” said Jim, looking all over, it was much better than his house.
“I suppose it’s alright for a second home,” she said. She led them into a room full of important looking people, all intoxicated with beer, “this,” she said, “this is the meeting room, can’t stay here though, I’m just giving you a look around, just so you what’s what. We’re heading upstairs for a chat with Grand Commander Farting Gnome.”
“Hold on, hold on, “ Jim said, worn out, they left the room and started heading upstairs, “I haven’t got a clue why I’m here for, I’m called up for service in the army, when I have ever been called before, a bloody dragon escorts me to Helm’s Deepend, and while I’m here I learn a little bit more about what’s going on, but then you enter the equation, tell me I’m a VIP, show me around the most important building in Helm’s Deepend, and still don’t tell me just what the Hell I have to do with anything!”
The woman se
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