"So what are we supposed to do in this dread tower of yours, Miss Guydde?" Dash Inhero asked as they approached the tower near the edge of town, in the Questing district. Though the tower was still a ways away, it was quite clearly dread.
Guydde replied in her most mystical voice. "You are destined to defeat the High Lord Wotsieon and take from him the mystical artifact you will later use to defeat the Dim One."
"How is Dash supposed to defeat him?" Fantasie Maydaan asked, walking just behind the other two.
"With the mystical artifact," the Priestess of Plot replied, annoyed.
"No, Wotsieon. How is he supposed to defeat Wotsieon."
"Oh." Her mystical voice was forgotten. "Umm... your sword, I suppose?"
"My sword?" Dash complained. "I still don't know how to use it! What level wizard did you say this guy was?"
"Urm..." Guydde sounded downright flustered as she produced some scrolls from within her robe. "Let me look at our itinerary here... Uh... no, we already went through the kobolds... uh this is... no that's... here we are. High Lord Wotsieon is a licensed level twelve herbomancer."
"Level twelve!?" Dash yelled, attracting the attention of a couple of clerics standing by the pawn shop they were walking past.
"Herbomancer?" Fantasie asked, much calmer. "Like, plants?"
Guydde nodded, secreting her papers away again. "Do not underestimate the plants of the High Lord Wotsieon, for he waters them with tears, and fertilizes them with the blood of the innocent."
"Actually, the blood of the innocent is a potent fertilizer," one of the clerics interrupts.
"Wh...whahuh?" Guydde blinks.
"Well, any blood is really," the other replies. "Innocence doesn't have much to do with it, and that kind of blood is so much harder to come by."
"Well, for a common farmer maybe, but for a professional evil sorcerer, they can get it in bulk quantities for a fraction of the price."
"Well, naturally."
"E... excuse us," Guydde muttered, leading her two wards away from the arguing priests.
"If you'd wait a moment to hear my point, Miss, it's just that fertilizing plants with blood doesn’t make them any more dangerous, really."
"'less they're carnivorous to begin with," the other cleric pointed out.
"True, true," the first replied as Guydde guided Dash and Fantasie out of earshot, to the base of Sum'watall Tower itself, which was indeed dread all the way from its base to the rafters. Though past the first story, the dread was a bit faded.
"And this is where I must leave you," Guydde said, pulling up the hood of her cloak.
"What, again?" Dash replied. "That’s just great… I thought you were supposed to keep me safe so I can fulfill that prophecy of yours, but every time we go somewhere dangerous you disappear the moment I look away. Well, not this time, I’m going to keep my eyes on you all the time."
Fantasie scoffed. "Right, and the moment I let down my guard you start undressing me with your eyes again."
"Fanta, I never..."
"Imagining your hands probing tenderly under my shirt, your fingers on my-"
"Fanta!" Dash turned toward his childhood friend. "You know I would never..." He cursed himself, turning back toward Guydde and not being surprised when she wasn't there. "Great. Just great, Fanta. Now we have to go through another one of Miss Guydde’s stupid 'Trials of Prophecy' without her help." Dash shrugged, looking back at Fantasie. "I guess it's just the two of us, then."
"I guess... hoooo no, Dash, you won't get me that easily."
"What?"
"You just want to get me alone in some dark corner of the tower so you can have your way with me, again and again, sweating and "
"What!? No!" Dash ran his hand through the long, dark, lustrous hair even Fantasie said she envied. "What's gotten into you these last-"
"Dash Inhero, I know you've been lusting after me since we left Backwoods Towne, but to think you'd sink so low as this! Your da' would be ashamed if he thought about us sweating and panting and crying out yes, oh yes harder! Harder!"
Dash Inhero stared at his friend, stunned. He had never lusted after Fantasie Meydaan. He had not lusted after any girls, for that matter. He told himself that this sort of irrationality was just the reason why. "You know what, fine. Fine. If you're going to be so paranoid, I'll take on High Lord Wotsieon myself, we'll see if you're treating me the same way after I die, okay?"
Fantasie gave a frustrated shriek. "You're so infuriating, Dash!"
"WHAT?!"
"Aarg! Just... go on!" Fantasie crossed her arms and leaning up against the tower's dread wall next to its dread door. Dash noticed the dread door's black paint was faded. He shook his head. "Fine, then, I just hope you feel guilty when you hear my bloodcurdling screams."
Dash reached for the dread door's dread knob. It squeaked a little to the right, but wouldn't open. "I... guess it's locked."
"Maybe you should knock," Fantasie suggested, rolling her eyes.
He shrugged, and cleared his throat, and knocked on the dread door. It sounded like any other door he'd knocked on. "H-hello? Is anybody in there? I'm here on, um, Quest business."
The door creaked open, revealing a red-faced little man with a candle burning atop the hump on his back. "Quest business you say? And who might you be then?"
"Um... Dash Inhero. Are you High Lord Wotsieon?"
"Me? Oh, no sir, but thank you for saying so. Hunch is me name. I just keep the place tidy while the High Lord goes about his High Lordly business. Would you like to be coming in then?"
"Uh... well, sure. I guess... yeah. Thank you."
"Oh, no trouble, no trouble. Will the pretty young lass be coming in as well?"
Fantasie laughed. "No, I'll just stay here holding the tower up with my back."
"Ah, you're so sure your champion here will defeat the master? I'm sure he will dear, I'm sure he will, but there's no need to worry about the Sum'watall Tower coming down after somethin' like that. The place may look scary, but underneath all the dread it's just stone like any other tower. Be careful not to get too much dread on your clothes there, lass, it's mighty hard to wash off. Now, come on in Mister Dash, sir, we'll see to your business right away."
It took Dash a moment to realize the talkative hunchback was done. "Ah. Thank you. Thank you very much, Hunch." He stepped through the dread door, into a comfortable sitting room with barely a speck of dread in sight, mostly around the windows, except for the comfortable looking window nook across from the fireplace. "I must say, you are far more polite than the other people I've come across on this quest. I mean, Quest, Quest."
"Yes, well, the master doesn't give Hunch directions about it, and most of you boys I see are new to this thing. Besides, there's no need to be rude, everybody is just doing their job, like we're supposed 'ta. Though it seems awfully strange that you would be taking on the High Lord alone. Have a seat. Would you like some tea?"
"Nono, thank you," Dash waved them away, sitting on the carved wood chair. "My party and I got... separated."
"Ah, yes, of course, of course," Hunch nattered on. "I'm sure your friends will show up soon enough, that's how it always works. Everyone has to have a little time to work by themselves, that's what they say at least. Helps with character development, or something like that, though why you can't develop character safe back on the farm has always escaped me.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." All the rules of Questing still made little sense to him, but Dash never claimed to be bright. Well, except for his teeth. "Is the High Lord upstairs?"
"Yes, of course, everything here is up to code. That's the farthest place from the door, with three stories full of traps to get through."
"Traps... oh. Fantasie usually does all the trap disarming, I... don't really know how. Is there another way upstairs?"
Hunch shook his head, somehow keeping the candle steady regardless. "I'm afraid not. That's why he spends so much time up there, and me down here, it's a right pain in the arse to get up or down the tower with all those traps just sitting there."
"Could you disable the traps for me?"
"Oh, of course not sir!" Hunch replied, scandalized. "It just isn't done. I mean, begging your pardons, I don't see any reason to be rude, but a good minion can't be disabling the very traps he's charged with keeping set."
"Right, right. Well then... how does the High Lord eat? You must get him food up there somehow."
"We have a little box that goes up and down the shaft on a pulley, sir. It takes some time to get things up there, but its not so bad as going through all those traps."
Dash had an idea. "How big is this box?"
"Well, I don't know big it is exactly, sir."
Dash thought for a moment. "Would you say its about the same size as I would be all curled up."
"Well... yes, I would think so sir."
"That's a most helpful estimate."
"Thank you, sir," the servant smiled, his bow dribbling some melted wax down the candle onto his hump. "I do try to be helpful."
"And where is this box?"
"Right over there next to the stairs, sir. Behind that picture of the master's master."
Dash followed Hunch's pointing hand, looking right over there next to the stairs, sir. A grey portrait of the Dim One, dark with dread, sat between the stairs and a bookshelf. There were a few colored spots on the stone floor where Hunch must have spilled some of the High Lord's food. "Could you, maybe, put me in the box and pull me up there?"
"Well, I couldn't say sir. I've never really tried that. Seems it might be rather uncomfortable being in that little box, not able to move for a few minutes. Besides, it would get you past all the traps, and I really shouldn't do that, sir. I could lose my license."
"Your license?"
"My minion's license, sir." Hunch reached into his robes, pulling out a dread slip of paper with his picture, his full name (Hunch Frontt), and the words, "Licensed Minion, Third Class."
"Third Class?"
"Yes, sir," the shorter man preened. "I'm quite proud of that sir. They passed me up for Fifth Class on account of my deformity, I'm not very good at wielding weapons and such. Fourth Class picked me up though, and I worked hard and loyally, and here I am now, sir."
"Con...gradulations. Any aspirations at getting to Second Class?"
"Well, a man can dream, sir, but little lumpy men like me usually stay in support roles. Much higher I might have to do some leadership myself, and I'm just happy staying here keeping the High Lord's tower."
Dash nodded. "Well, it's been a pleasure, Hunch, truly, but I must go and deal with your master up there."
"Of course, sir."
"I mean to use your food elevator to get to him. Would you try and stop me?"
"Well, you couldn't pull it yourself, sir."
"If I got someone else to pull it for me, would you try to stop them?"
"Well, I would have to, sir. I am a licensed minion, I must do my part you know."
Dash sighed. "I'm guess I'm going to have to hurt you then."
"Oh, I wouldn't say so, sir."
"No?"
"Not at all, sir. You just have to tie me up to a chair or something like that, sir. I only have to fight you if I can move. There's a nice sturdy chair over by the fireplace, with some rope hanging on the wall for you, sir."
"You'll... just let me tie you up?"
"Well, code says I'm not supposed to, sir, but its a minor violation, they mostly overlook it so long as everything else is as it should be. I'll get tied up anyway, and its no matter to anyone if I have an extra bump or two for your troubles. If you wish to keep things above board, I can stand quite still so you can knock me out easy, if ya' like. "
"No, no I think just tying you up will do."
"As you say, sir." Hunch looked relieved.
"Do you ever think these Quest rules are rather stupid and arbitrary, Hunch?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that sir. I'm sure there's some reason behind 'em. No reason to change things that have worked so long, that's what I always say sir. Shall we tie me up first, or are you going to get some help for the pulley?"
"You go get in the chair, I'll just be a moment. Perhaps get yourself a drink or a snack first, you may be there a while and we wouldn't want you to get uncomfortable."
"Oh, thank you very much for thinking about that, sir. Most heroes, they don't think much about the little minions like me. I'm lucky to be at such a low post, really, many heroes later on just burst into the dungeon, swinging their swords around and killing everyone. It's most unhealthy for us minions, sir. We've got families to feed, just like everyone else. Well, not me personally, sir, but we minions in general... but how I prattle, you have business to be doing." Hunch broke off with a nod, and waddled over toward the fireplace, scooping some stew out of the cook pot hanging over the flames.
Dash went back to the door, pulling it open. "Fantasie, I need your help."
"You must, if you haven't even gotten off the first level yet. Or you've slain everything and have found some safe place where you can take me, and slowly begin to come closer to me, embracing me like you've dreamed of, tempting me with your kisses, until finally you cannot stand it any more and you slice off my clothes and we descend into a frenzy of-"
"I don't want you for sex," Dash interrupted, "just some heavy lifting."
"And I'm supposed to believe that? And I'm not supposed to know that my 'heavy lifting' will be pulling your weight into my dark crevices?"
"No, into Wotsieon's. C'mon, Fanta, stop these stupid games and help me, or you'll be waiting out here all night where some scoundrel might come do something unsavory to you."
Fantasie sighed, shaking her head as she followed him into Sum'watall Tower. She didn't notice the two smudges of dread on the back of her cotton dress. They would be mighty hard to wash out later.
Hunch showed them to the dumbwaiter, munching on a scone. Dash explained the situation to Fantasie as the manservant ate. Fantasie balked at Dash’s plan. “You seriously think I can haul your strong, mmmanly body all the way up this tower in that little box? What if my handle slips? You’d be killed!”
“I’m ready to be tied up now, sir,” Hunch said.
“Alright. Anyway, you’re a smart girl,” Dash replied to Fantasie, as he led Hunch over to the chair by the fireplace to tie him up. “Couldn’t you brace yourself off something, or something?”
Fantasie stepped toward the pulley, giving the rope a few experimental tugs. “It has a counterweight at least… are you sure you don’t want to just go through the other levels of the tower?”
“Here, hold this, while I tie the knot,” Dash told Hunch, before turning toward his friend. “I thought you didn’t trust me.”
“I… I don’t! You just want to trick me into helping you up there so you can watch me wiggle around while I’m disarming traps… you lecher! Well, I’m not falling for it, I really am going to make you ride in the box!”
Dash rolled his eyes. “Darn, you caught me. Looking at that, my sword won’t fit in the box with me.”
“Why am I not surprised you don’t know how to put your sword in holes… that’s easy to fix, Dash. We just back up the box a bit, slip the sword in on top. Let me have it.”
“Just a moment.” Dash turned toward the minion. “Is that tight enough?”
“Oh, I’m most restrained sir. I won’t be any further trouble. Oh, wait a moment, wait a moment.” Hunch looked distracted for a moment, his lips moving as he tried to remember something. “Right. You will never defeat the master, he has all the powers of darkness behind him! And so forth and so on, sir. Had to say it. G’luck, sir.”
Dash stood, contemplating just how insane everybody he had met since leaving home had been. Fantasie cleared her throat, though he hadn’t seen her cross the room. “The sword?”
“Oh, right.” He unsheathed the blade scavenged off of the head Kobold, and handed it to Fantasie. She grasped it by the hilt, and swung it around a few times. “Aren’t you going to put it into the shaft?”
“In a minute,” she insisted. “This doesn’t seem as hard as you make it look, Dash. I could probably handle this thing better than you.”
“You probably could. You know Guydde just thrust that thing at me and said that the Plot demanded I use a sword. I dunno why the Plot would care.”
Fantasie lowered the sword. “You know, you are a lot stronger than I am, and I weigh a lot less, it would probably be easier if I went up there.”
Dash laughed. “But he’s a villain.”
She blinked. “So?”
“So? You’re a girl, you can’t beat the villain. He’d just capture you and I’d have to rescue you, but then there wouldn’t be anyone down here to work the—”
“Get in the damned box,” Fantasie snapped, pushing the sword into the narrow crevice at the top of the dumbwaiter, and muttering.
“Are you angry at something?”
Fantasie turned back to Dash, one eye wide and the other twitching. “No. Of course not. Tell me, Dash. How can you be such a… a… man sometimes, but never when I want you to?!”
“Huh?”
“In. The. Box.”
Dash shook his head, and climbed into the hole in the wall, hugging his knees to his chin and twisting his head. “Alright, I’m reAH!” Dash yelped as the box suddenly wrenched upward. “Take it easy, FAAH! Fanta!”
“Oh, I’ll take it eeeeeeasy,” she growled back through gritted teeth. One more hoist, and he was suffused in total darkness.
The darkness got boring very quickly, but that didn’t matter, as Dash was well distracted by the cramps forming in his legs and neck. Dash mused that this was a little like being born, only a lot colder and less gooey. He doubted Fanta would have appreciated the comment.
Dash’s journey abruptly ceased with a metallic grinding sound above the box. The box didn’t lock into place, and in fact kept jerking up and down. He wiggled around as much as he was able, but still felt stone at the empty end of the dumbwaiter. Suddenly, he realized the problem: the sword was caught between the top of the box and the top of the shaft!
He was about to yell down to Fantasie when light and smoke appeared above. Dash winced, assuming High Lord Wotsieon had cast some spell to kill him. After a few moments of not being dead, and the only searing pain coming from the all-too-natural cramps in his legs, he figured he was mistaken. The box lowered slightly, and Dash heard his sword shift and clang.
The box jumped upwards again, jolting against the pulley and locking into place. A bell rang. Dash blinked, as he looked out the door, his eyes watering both at the unaccustomed light and the smoky air. The room had an acrid, sharp smell that Dash couldn’t quite place. A tall, thin man with shaggy robes and shaggy hair was holding his sword and looking back at him. Giggling.
Dash wasn’t sure what to do. This had to be Wotsieon, and the wizard had to know that Dash did not belong in the dumbwaiter, yet all he did was giggle. Dash decided to at least try to get into the room – if he was to be magicked to death or stabbed with his own scavenged blade, he didn’t want to have it happen in the box. Wotsieon might send it back down, and who knew what that would do to Fantasie’s delicate female disposition?
Wotsieon did nothing to stop Dash from dismounting the dumbwaiter, except for giggling even harder when the hero tripped and fell flat on his face. Dash got quickly to his feet, doing his best to look the dignified hero Guydde insisted he was.
Wotsieon leveled Dash’s blade, and poked it at him. Dash jumped back, into the wall. “How’m I supposed to eat you if you’re gonna dance away?” Wotsieon started guffawing, one hand over his mouth as he poked at Dash again. Dash dashed to the side, moving around Wotsieon to get more room to maneuver.
He held his hands out in front of him, both to calm Wotsieon and defend against the sword. “I’m not your dinner.”
“You do look a little more rare than I like, hee hee…” the wizard giggled. “I might have to try ya anyway, I was getting all… hungry, ya know? Hungry.”
“I’m not very tasty, mister, really.” Dash hazarded a look around the chamber. Thick haze diffused the light from the shuttered windows and the great skylight that invisible from street level. Beneath the skylight, a large bed of many assorted small plants grew, with a small, puffy tree at the center. Beneath each window, another small flower bed sat filled with the wares of Wotsieon’s craft. Behind him was a table, with several dried herbs and a narrow metal pot around which the smoke was thickest. “Would you… mind giving me back my sword?”
“What? Oh, sure,” Wotsieon began, his words slow. He turned the hilt in his hand, offering Dash the pommel. “Wait…” he drew the blade back. “You’re not here to sell me somethin’, are ya? Cuz I don’t need any more insurance, that’s just a real downer, man.”
“No, no, I’m not here to sell you anything,” Dash replied. “I’m actually here to, uh… get something from you.”
“Well what’s that?” Wotsieon asked, eyes glazed.
“Uh… my sword, for starters.”
“Oh, sure, man. I don’ need it.” Wotsieon handed Dash the sword, and shambled over to the table, tumbling into the chair beside it. He laughed. “Relax, man, stay a while. I can find a box for you to sit in if that would make you more comfortable. Comfortabool. Comfort a bull. HA!” Wotsieon slapped his leg, cackling.
Dash was fairly certain the man was insane. He didn’t like that one bit. Wizards were dangerous enough, but crazy wizards were also unpredictable. They didn’t always play by the rules. Dash had his sword. He should just cut Wotsieon down then and there. Except…
Wotsieon interrupted his thinking. “What are ya here for then, man? Wait… lemme see your teeth.” Dash paused, and gave a nervous smile. “Ah, purdy things there. You must be here about a Quest or somethin’.”
Dash was coming to hate his teeth. They always gave him away. “Yeah. I need to get… something from you so I can defeat the Dim One, your master.”
“Bah,” the High Lord waved the suggestion away. “Man, that guy’s only there for you guys to fight. Why are you fightin’ him, anyway? You don’t even know, do ya, man?” He started to laugh. “Don’t you see how presponder… propister… crazy it is man? Nah, you don’t know nothin’ of it, they wouldn’t tell ya. How long since they took you from your farm, kid?”
Dash tried to think how long it had been, but found it difficult. “Um… a couple weeks?”
Wotsieon laughed. “Man, they must not have told you crap yet. You’re supposed to adventure far and overthrow the Dim One and become king yourself, right?”
“Um… I guess. Would you mind helping, maybe?” Wotsieon started to laugh. Dash thought about how far he had come, and how much he knew about the reasons, and it suddenly seemed incredibly amusing. Dash started laughing too, even more so after he dropped his sword. He bent down to pick it up, and instead decided to sit down next to it. Wotsieon walked back to his chair and sat. “Aren’t we supposed to fight?”
The High Lord blinked, and laughed more. “Probably, man, but what’s the rush. I’m here, you’re here, and if you don’t beat me, another one of you will.”
“Nuh-uh. I’m the only one of me I know about.” Unless there was another one of him running around… maybe that was the guy doing bad things to make Fantasie act so strangely? He’d have to think about this.
“Naw, man, just another Quest boy like you. And say, aren’t you folks supposed to come through the door, man?”
“I talked to your doorman downstairs,” Dash replied. The sword was starting to feel really heavy in his hands, and he felt like sitting down.
So did Wotsieon, apparently – the mage sunk to his knees to sit cross-legged on the floor with Dash. “What? Oh, Hunch, no man. You quest people are supposed to come up through the door.”
“But there’s traps back there,” Dash laughed.
“Of course there’s traps, man, there have to be traps or you’d just get right up here. And they keep away those insurance people, too. Do you know what the deductible on a tower like this is? They must think I’m crazy or somethin’, man.”
“They’re just trying to make a living, I guess,”
“Well, I’m trying to make a livin’ too. Just an honest villain, ya know? Just doin’ my job, but everyone acts like I’m a bad guy or somethin’. It’s the family business. My father was an evil minion, and his father before him. Real nice guy, gramps was, always said grandma was the real evil one but she just kept the place clean.”
Dash tried to think, but it was like churning sand instead of butter. “Don’t you… don’t you like… oppress everyone around here?”
“Oppress people?” Wotsieon blinked and seemed to be putting a lot of effort to form the words around his tongue. “What’s that mean?”
“It means… I dunno. Like, you make life bad for people in the city.”
“Nah, man, I never did that.” The wizard waved a hand dismissively. “I just stay up here and leave ‘em alone. This town is here ‘cuz of the business I bring, all you quest people coming after me and the guild and everythin’.” Wotsieon rose, and moved over to the planter behind Dash. “My tower is like a, a seed, ya know? And the whole town is growin’ from it. See?”
A large seed appeared in his hand, and he dropped it into the planter. He picked up a watering pot from the floor, and sprinkled some onto the seed. “:weird2::isthatso::weird::embarrass::sunny::Herb2:” he said, and the seed sprouted stems with long, narrow, jagged leaves.
Dash clapped. “That’s pretty neat. I wish I could have done that back on the farm.” Dash suddenly remembered the talk of fertilizer. “You don’t use… blood or anything?”
“Blood? What would I use blood for, man?”
“They say you use it for fertilizer.”
“What? Nah, man. Blood’s expensive. I use the stuff the bats leave in the roof, the plants love that. Hey, I’m getting hungry. You getting hungry? I’m gonna have Hunch send up some food.”
Dash didn’t think that was going to work, but couldn’t remember why. The wizard called into a small hole in the wall next to the dumbwaiter. “Ey, Hunch, man? Send up somethin’ I can eat this time. Enough for two of us. Hunch? You there man? Don’t make me come down there.”
“Right away, sir,” Fantasie’s very bad impression of the manservant answered back.
Dash started giggling, but Wotsieon didn’t notice the difference. “That’s cool, man.” He turned back to Dash. “So, what did you want from me?”
What did Dash want from him again? “Something to do with… defeating… something…” Dash giggled. “I’m not sure. What do you have? Anything powerful?”
Wotsieon twittered. “More powerful than what we’re usin’ now? Sure, sure. It’s strong stuff, man. Strong. Here,” he stumbled across the room and took a false stone from the wall, removing a pouch the size of a moneypurse. “Yeah, this stuff is craaaazy man. Give this to someone, and they’ll be like, out of it, man. They’ll like, touch the sky.”
Dash wasn’t sure what that meant. It would kill his enemies? “So, if I gave it to someone, they’d be, uh…”
“Completely wasted, man. It like, takes your spirit on a journey, it’s crazy. I’m saving it, though.”
Dash didn’t know what Wotsieon was talking about, but it sounded like what he needed. “What for?”
Wotsieon blinked, then turned his head up toward the ceiling. His scraggly hair hung from his head like dead vines. “Err… I dunno man. When I need to have a good day, I guess.”
“Well… could I take some?”
“Of this stuff? No, man, I wanna keep it.”
Dash was fairly certain that meant it was what he came to get. He glanced down at his sword. “I’d really like to have some of that.”
Wotsieon narrowed his eyes. “You gonna steal it or somethin’?”
Heroes in this situation usually did one of two things: kill the minion and take what they needed, or steal it and be pursued by the minion for the rest of the Quest. “I don’t see how I could run away from you, up here.”
“Yeah… you’re gonna have to try to kill me then, man. I hate when you guys do that. I never did anything bad to ya, I’m just up here in my dread tower, mindin’ my own business, and you come along and try to do yours.”
“My business is farming,” Dash insisted. “But the Plot needs me.”
“Oh, yes, the almighty Plot,” Wotsieon giggled. “There’s no Plot anymore, even if there ever was. People just don’t know what to do without it, so they do what they think it says. That’s the real oppressor, man, not me, or my boss guy, whoever that is this year. Ya listening, kid?”
“Huh? Wha?” Dash had zoned out while looking at plant shadows on the floor. Wotsieon had said something, and now he had to reply… well, he hadn’t given up the bag, so he must still be resisting. “You could just, I dunno, give the stuff to me, and we could all be happy.”
Wotsieon sighed. “You’re bringin’ me down man. :fingers::Herb4::lock:.” Dash yelped as arm-thick vines tipped in pink flowers reached out of the central planter and picked Dash up into the air. Wotsieon put his pouch back into the wall, leaving the fake rock on the floor. “You know, not all of you people succeed in your Quests, man. There’s always more young farmers with perfect teeth to throw away, and its not like anything really bad would happen if you fail. Why do you think I stay in my tower like this, man. The whole world, it’s messed up. People out Questing against each other for no reason, to finish off that book of prophecies… that’s all propaganda, man, it’s all just to keep the economy goin’. They just do it ‘cuz they think it keeps everyone from fighting each other, and it keeps the economy goin’, an’ ‘cuz they’ve forgotten how to do everything else. And so every few months another one of you, you, you misguided guys comes here and tries to kill me, or take something from me, or sell me insurance, and I’m sick of it, man, sick of it. The system is overgrown, man, it’s choking everyone like a big weed. It needs to be pruned, man, pruned.”
Dash realized he should be cursing. But the vines held him up near the ceiling, where the smoke was heaviest. Everything suddenly seemed so much more colorful and swirly. Dash decided that was a lot more interesting than the weird muffled things Wotsieon was saying. He heard bells ringing somewhere, and decided they sounded like Guydde, and said about as much. He laughed.
“Ah, dinner’s here, good,” the High Lord said. “Aww, man, the soup is cold. Hunch knows I hate that.” Dash started laughing. “Cold soup isn’t very funny, man.”
“It is from up… wow, my voice sounds really heavy!”
“Wow, sounds like it’s really strong up there. I’ve never tried that before. :dance2::smileup::bump:.” More vines grew, picking up Wotsieon and carrying him up to the ceiling with Dash.
Everything became stranger and harder to keep track of. It was all very funny, of that much he was sure, but it was all very peculiar. He thought he saw flying ponies, but he wasn’t sure. Dash always liked ponies. Both men giggled.
Downstairs, Fantasie leaned up against the wall next to the dumbwaiter, her arms crossed and her right foot tapping incessantly. What had that fool man gotten himself into upstairs? That had to have been High Lord Wotsieon calling down for food, for two, so the wizard had to be alive and had to know Dash was up there. Alone. With a level ten wizard. She gritted her teeth.
“Oh, don’t worry yourself, miss,” Hunch called from the other side of the room, where he was still tied up. “My lord never hurts anyone up there if he can help it.”
“If he can help it? How often can’t he help it?”
“Well, whenever someone is too insistent. Doesn’t get the hint and leave him be, like.”
Dash was many things. Tall, loyal, handsome, strong, pretty… with such lovely thighs and… well, all that aside, one thing he wasn’t was stubborn, so he would probably be okay. Probably. Unless Wotsieon was having a bad day. Or Dash said something characteristically unobservant. Or if Hunch was lying, or, or, or…
Fantasie screamed out her frustration. “Why couldn’t I have just gone upstairs with him!”
“That’s one of the trap bells from my quarters, miss. It tells when one of the traps in the tower is triggered, so I can go set it up aga… oh my, there’s another one!”
Fantasie started running for the stairs. “Wait! Wait, miss!” She paused. “It must be the traps upstairs going off, the ones on the lower levels are still set!”
Fantasie nodded. “Thanks!” She rushed up the stairs, images of Dash stumbling downstairs, tripping wires and stepping on panels, shot and sliced and impaled and confused. She kicked open the door with bells ringing behind it, ducking to the side as a heavy metal ball flew out where she had been standing. She ran into the room, looking around for where trap triggers would most likely lie, and the unlikely spots they actually probably were. She turned toward the next set of stairs, jumped over a tripwire, skidded around a false panel, and ran up another set of stairs on the handrails.
The door at the top of those steps was open, which she didn’t trust for a moment. She paused with a foot on each handrail, and peeked into the next room, bells tinkling downstairs. Fantasie forced herself to stay calm—even if Dash was in trouble, getting herself killed on the way upstairs wouldn’t help either of them.
She saw a metal handle bolted into the wall on the other side of the door about where Hunch would be able to reach it, with a small platform underneath. She gave an experimental push down on the handle, then swung down onto the platform.
Then, she screamed when a crossbow bolt punched through her shoulder. She swore – the way around the trap was so obvious there was probably no trap on the doorway to begin with. It figured – the one trap that Dash wouldn’t have fallen for, she did. Fantasie took a deep breath and charged for the next stairwell, ignoring the bells behind her.
As she reached the foot of the stairs, the door opened and a weight slid out of the ceiling, smashing into the man coming out the door. The body landed with a thud. Fantasie screamed, and rushed toward the body, then stopped, eyes wide.
It wasn’t Dash. It was an older man, with scraggly hair and loose brown robes, with bolts, holes, and blood leaking out in at least half a dozen places. The last blow had made him quite dead. “Wotsieon?” she wondered aloud. Why had he come down into his own dungeon, into his own traps? And what was that smell?
“Hey!” She turned toward the voice at the top of the stairs, where Wotsieon had been killed. Dash was there, leaning heavily against the weight that had felled the wizard. “Did a herd of pink ponies fly this way?” Then, he fell down the stairs. Fantasie rushed to him, and found him unhurt and giggling.
“Dash? Dash! Are you okay?”
Dash pointed up at her bleeding shoulder, sputtered, and laughed. Fantasie let out a breath, smiling. Dash was okay. So she kicked him until he stopped laughing. “You don’t even know you beat the wizard, do you?” Well, the wizard was beaten at least.
“What? Hey! Hey, hey, hey, Fanta. Fanta, hey, you have to come upstairs with me Fanta, the room up there is soooo funny!”
Fantasie became scared again. There was something wrong with him. Maybe he was ensorcelled… by a herbomancer, though? She would get his attention. “Stand up, Dash,” she said. “Stand UP.” She yanked him to his feet with her good arm, and gave him a forceful kiss. She loved it, the feel of his lips on hers, his mouth around her tongue… until he started giggling.
Her knee found its way to his crotch, and the wizard-slayer found his way back to the floor.
Thanks for the review, Craven :). Everyone else... feel free to criticize.
btw, here are a few renditions of some of my characters Mondu the Fat has done in the artwork forum. The last one especially catches the tone, I think.
Flow/Pacing Score: 5 Comments: Like a true story writer, the flow and pacing of Low Points is hard to disrupt or even match. Each section of the story segued beautifully into another, which also enhanced the story structure and quality of content.
Quality of Structure Score: 5 Comments: I've read through this story three times now, looking for error, but this area truly shined its best in the light of the story telling.
Quality of Content Score: 5 Comments: Again, stoned wizards, towers of dread and cliché heroes move the story to where its going, and why its going there. Nice job!
Originality of Content Score: 4.5 Comments: Playing off the fantasy world and blending it with the real world, You have created a beautiful world where everything happens because that's how things work. Original, yet well known heroes lead the battle to complete the prophecy in this humorous rip of fantasy. I couldn't give you a perfect score, because I've known I've seen similar stories in the past.
Grammar Score: 4.5 Comments: Again, a few typos and mispells here and there. Not noticable by the untrained eye.
Thank you much! Heh, I hadn't seen it before I wrote this, but my story is quite similar in tone and intent to the webcomic VanVonHunter. There's still plenty of the genre to expore and make fun of... I've several amusing ideas on the relationship between Dwarves and Elves (*giggles*)
Guydde replied in her most mystical voice. "You are destined to defeat the High Lord Wotsieon and take from him the mystical artifact you will later use to defeat the Dim One."
"How is Dash supposed to defeat him?" Fantasie Maydaan asked, walking just behind the other two.
"With the mystical artifact," the Priestess of Plot replied, annoyed.
"No, Wotsieon. How is he supposed to defeat Wotsieon."
"Oh." Her mystical voice was forgotten. "Umm... your sword, I suppose?"
"My sword?" Dash complained. "I still don't know how to use it! What level wizard did you say this guy was?"
"Urm..." Guydde sounded downright flustered as she produced some scrolls from within her robe. "Let me look at our itinerary here... Uh... no, we already went through the kobolds... uh this is... no that's... here we are. High Lord Wotsieon is a licensed level twelve herbomancer."
"Level twelve!?" Dash yelled, attracting the attention of a couple of clerics standing by the pawn shop they were walking past.
"Herbomancer?" Fantasie asked, much calmer. "Like, plants?"
Guydde nodded, secreting her papers away again. "Do not underestimate the plants of the High Lord Wotsieon, for he waters them with tears, and fertilizes them with the blood of the innocent."
"Actually, the blood of the innocent is a potent fertilizer," one of the clerics interrupts.
"Wh...whahuh?" Guydde blinks.
"Well, any blood is really," the other replies. "Innocence doesn't have much to do with it, and that kind of blood is so much harder to come by."
"Well, for a common farmer maybe, but for a professional evil sorcerer, they can get it in bulk quantities for a fraction of the price."
"Well, naturally."
"E... excuse us," Guydde muttered, leading her two wards away from the arguing priests.
"If you'd wait a moment to hear my point, Miss, it's just that fertilizing plants with blood doesn’t make them any more dangerous, really."
"'less they're carnivorous to begin with," the other cleric pointed out.
"True, true," the first replied as Guydde guided Dash and Fantasie out of earshot, to the base of Sum'watall Tower itself, which was indeed dread all the way from its base to the rafters. Though past the first story, the dread was a bit faded.
"And this is where I must leave you," Guydde said, pulling up the hood of her cloak.
"What, again?" Dash replied. "That’s just great… I thought you were supposed to keep me safe so I can fulfill that prophecy of yours, but every time we go somewhere dangerous you disappear the moment I look away. Well, not this time, I’m going to keep my eyes on you all the time."
Fantasie scoffed. "Right, and the moment I let down my guard you start undressing me with your eyes again."
"Fanta, I never..."
"Imagining your hands probing tenderly under my shirt, your fingers on my-"
"Fanta!" Dash turned toward his childhood friend. "You know I would never..." He cursed himself, turning back toward Guydde and not being surprised when she wasn't there. "Great. Just great, Fanta. Now we have to go through another one of Miss Guydde’s stupid 'Trials of Prophecy' without her help." Dash shrugged, looking back at Fantasie. "I guess it's just the two of us, then."
"I guess... hoooo no, Dash, you won't get me that easily."
"What?"
"You just want to get me alone in some dark corner of the tower so you can have your way with me, again and again, sweating and "
"What!? No!" Dash ran his hand through the long, dark, lustrous hair even Fantasie said she envied. "What's gotten into you these last-"
"Dash Inhero, I know you've been lusting after me since we left Backwoods Towne, but to think you'd sink so low as this! Your da' would be ashamed if he thought about us sweating and panting and crying out yes, oh yes harder! Harder!"
Dash Inhero stared at his friend, stunned. He had never lusted after Fantasie Meydaan. He had not lusted after any girls, for that matter. He told himself that this sort of irrationality was just the reason why. "You know what, fine. Fine. If you're going to be so paranoid, I'll take on High Lord Wotsieon myself, we'll see if you're treating me the same way after I die, okay?"
Fantasie gave a frustrated shriek. "You're so infuriating, Dash!"
"WHAT?!"
"Aarg! Just... go on!" Fantasie crossed her arms and leaning up against the tower's dread wall next to its dread door. Dash noticed the dread door's black paint was faded. He shook his head. "Fine, then, I just hope you feel guilty when you hear my bloodcurdling screams."
Dash reached for the dread door's dread knob. It squeaked a little to the right, but wouldn't open. "I... guess it's locked."
"Maybe you should knock," Fantasie suggested, rolling her eyes.
He shrugged, and cleared his throat, and knocked on the dread door. It sounded like any other door he'd knocked on. "H-hello? Is anybody in there? I'm here on, um, Quest business."
The door creaked open, revealing a red-faced little man with a candle burning atop the hump on his back. "Quest business you say? And who might you be then?"
"Um... Dash Inhero. Are you High Lord Wotsieon?"
"Me? Oh, no sir, but thank you for saying so. Hunch is me name. I just keep the place tidy while the High Lord goes about his High Lordly business. Would you like to be coming in then?"
"Uh... well, sure. I guess... yeah. Thank you."
"Oh, no trouble, no trouble. Will the pretty young lass be coming in as well?"
Fantasie laughed. "No, I'll just stay here holding the tower up with my back."
"Ah, you're so sure your champion here will defeat the master? I'm sure he will dear, I'm sure he will, but there's no need to worry about the Sum'watall Tower coming down after somethin' like that. The place may look scary, but underneath all the dread it's just stone like any other tower. Be careful not to get too much dread on your clothes there, lass, it's mighty hard to wash off. Now, come on in Mister Dash, sir, we'll see to your business right away."
It took Dash a moment to realize the talkative hunchback was done. "Ah. Thank you. Thank you very much, Hunch." He stepped through the dread door, into a comfortable sitting room with barely a speck of dread in sight, mostly around the windows, except for the comfortable looking window nook across from the fireplace. "I must say, you are far more polite than the other people I've come across on this quest. I mean, Quest, Quest."
"Yes, well, the master doesn't give Hunch directions about it, and most of you boys I see are new to this thing. Besides, there's no need to be rude, everybody is just doing their job, like we're supposed 'ta. Though it seems awfully strange that you would be taking on the High Lord alone. Have a seat. Would you like some tea?"
"Nono, thank you," Dash waved them away, sitting on the carved wood chair. "My party and I got... separated."
"Ah, yes, of course, of course," Hunch nattered on. "I'm sure your friends will show up soon enough, that's how it always works. Everyone has to have a little time to work by themselves, that's what they say at least. Helps with character development, or something like that, though why you can't develop character safe back on the farm has always escaped me.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." All the rules of Questing still made little sense to him, but Dash never claimed to be bright. Well, except for his teeth. "Is the High Lord upstairs?"
"Yes, of course, everything here is up to code. That's the farthest place from the door, with three stories full of traps to get through."
"Traps... oh. Fantasie usually does all the trap disarming, I... don't really know how. Is there another way upstairs?"
Hunch shook his head, somehow keeping the candle steady regardless. "I'm afraid not. That's why he spends so much time up there, and me down here, it's a right pain in the arse to get up or down the tower with all those traps just sitting there."
"Could you disable the traps for me?"
"Oh, of course not sir!" Hunch replied, scandalized. "It just isn't done. I mean, begging your pardons, I don't see any reason to be rude, but a good minion can't be disabling the very traps he's charged with keeping set."
"Right, right. Well then... how does the High Lord eat? You must get him food up there somehow."
"We have a little box that goes up and down the shaft on a pulley, sir. It takes some time to get things up there, but its not so bad as going through all those traps."
Dash had an idea. "How big is this box?"
"Well, I don't know big it is exactly, sir."
Dash thought for a moment. "Would you say its about the same size as I would be all curled up."
"Well... yes, I would think so sir."
"That's a most helpful estimate."
"Thank you, sir," the servant smiled, his bow dribbling some melted wax down the candle onto his hump. "I do try to be helpful."
"And where is this box?"
"Right over there next to the stairs, sir. Behind that picture of the master's master."
Dash followed Hunch's pointing hand, looking right over there next to the stairs, sir. A grey portrait of the Dim One, dark with dread, sat between the stairs and a bookshelf. There were a few colored spots on the stone floor where Hunch must have spilled some of the High Lord's food. "Could you, maybe, put me in the box and pull me up there?"
"Well, I couldn't say sir. I've never really tried that. Seems it might be rather uncomfortable being in that little box, not able to move for a few minutes. Besides, it would get you past all the traps, and I really shouldn't do that, sir. I could lose my license."
"Your license?"
"My minion's license, sir." Hunch reached into his robes, pulling out a dread slip of paper with his picture, his full name (Hunch Frontt), and the words, "Licensed Minion, Third Class."
"Third Class?"
"Yes, sir," the shorter man preened. "I'm quite proud of that sir. They passed me up for Fifth Class on account of my deformity, I'm not very good at wielding weapons and such. Fourth Class picked me up though, and I worked hard and loyally, and here I am now, sir."
"Con...gradulations. Any aspirations at getting to Second Class?"
"Well, a man can dream, sir, but little lumpy men like me usually stay in support roles. Much higher I might have to do some leadership myself, and I'm just happy staying here keeping the High Lord's tower."
Dash nodded. "Well, it's been a pleasure, Hunch, truly, but I must go and deal with your master up there."
"Of course, sir."
"I mean to use your food elevator to get to him. Would you try and stop me?"
"Well, you couldn't pull it yourself, sir."
"If I got someone else to pull it for me, would you try to stop them?"
"Well, I would have to, sir. I am a licensed minion, I must do my part you know."
Dash sighed. "I'm guess I'm going to have to hurt you then."
"Oh, I wouldn't say so, sir."
"No?"
"Not at all, sir. You just have to tie me up to a chair or something like that, sir. I only have to fight you if I can move. There's a nice sturdy chair over by the fireplace, with some rope hanging on the wall for you, sir."
"You'll... just let me tie you up?"
"Well, code says I'm not supposed to, sir, but its a minor violation, they mostly overlook it so long as everything else is as it should be. I'll get tied up anyway, and its no matter to anyone if I have an extra bump or two for your troubles. If you wish to keep things above board, I can stand quite still so you can knock me out easy, if ya' like. "
"No, no I think just tying you up will do."
"As you say, sir." Hunch looked relieved.
"Do you ever think these Quest rules are rather stupid and arbitrary, Hunch?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that sir. I'm sure there's some reason behind 'em. No reason to change things that have worked so long, that's what I always say sir. Shall we tie me up first, or are you going to get some help for the pulley?"
"You go get in the chair, I'll just be a moment. Perhaps get yourself a drink or a snack first, you may be there a while and we wouldn't want you to get uncomfortable."
"Oh, thank you very much for thinking about that, sir. Most heroes, they don't think much about the little minions like me. I'm lucky to be at such a low post, really, many heroes later on just burst into the dungeon, swinging their swords around and killing everyone. It's most unhealthy for us minions, sir. We've got families to feed, just like everyone else. Well, not me personally, sir, but we minions in general... but how I prattle, you have business to be doing." Hunch broke off with a nod, and waddled over toward the fireplace, scooping some stew out of the cook pot hanging over the flames.
Dash went back to the door, pulling it open. "Fantasie, I need your help."
"You must, if you haven't even gotten off the first level yet. Or you've slain everything and have found some safe place where you can take me, and slowly begin to come closer to me, embracing me like you've dreamed of, tempting me with your kisses, until finally you cannot stand it any more and you slice off my clothes and we descend into a frenzy of-"
"I don't want you for sex," Dash interrupted, "just some heavy lifting."
"And I'm supposed to believe that? And I'm not supposed to know that my 'heavy lifting' will be pulling your weight into my dark crevices?"
"No, into Wotsieon's. C'mon, Fanta, stop these stupid games and help me, or you'll be waiting out here all night where some scoundrel might come do something unsavory to you."
Fantasie sighed, shaking her head as she followed him into Sum'watall Tower. She didn't notice the two smudges of dread on the back of her cotton dress. They would be mighty hard to wash out later.
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“I’m ready to be tied up now, sir,” Hunch said.
“Alright. Anyway, you’re a smart girl,” Dash replied to Fantasie, as he led Hunch over to the chair by the fireplace to tie him up. “Couldn’t you brace yourself off something, or something?”
Fantasie stepped toward the pulley, giving the rope a few experimental tugs. “It has a counterweight at least… are you sure you don’t want to just go through the other levels of the tower?”
“Here, hold this, while I tie the knot,” Dash told Hunch, before turning toward his friend. “I thought you didn’t trust me.”
“I… I don’t! You just want to trick me into helping you up there so you can watch me wiggle around while I’m disarming traps… you lecher! Well, I’m not falling for it, I really am going to make you ride in the box!”
Dash rolled his eyes. “Darn, you caught me. Looking at that, my sword won’t fit in the box with me.”
“Why am I not surprised you don’t know how to put your sword in holes… that’s easy to fix, Dash. We just back up the box a bit, slip the sword in on top. Let me have it.”
“Just a moment.” Dash turned toward the minion. “Is that tight enough?”
“Oh, I’m most restrained sir. I won’t be any further trouble. Oh, wait a moment, wait a moment.” Hunch looked distracted for a moment, his lips moving as he tried to remember something. “Right. You will never defeat the master, he has all the powers of darkness behind him! And so forth and so on, sir. Had to say it. G’luck, sir.”
Dash stood, contemplating just how insane everybody he had met since leaving home had been. Fantasie cleared her throat, though he hadn’t seen her cross the room. “The sword?”
“Oh, right.” He unsheathed the blade scavenged off of the head Kobold, and handed it to Fantasie. She grasped it by the hilt, and swung it around a few times. “Aren’t you going to put it into the shaft?”
“In a minute,” she insisted. “This doesn’t seem as hard as you make it look, Dash. I could probably handle this thing better than you.”
“You probably could. You know Guydde just thrust that thing at me and said that the Plot demanded I use a sword. I dunno why the Plot would care.”
Fantasie lowered the sword. “You know, you are a lot stronger than I am, and I weigh a lot less, it would probably be easier if I went up there.”
Dash laughed. “But he’s a villain.”
She blinked. “So?”
“So? You’re a girl, you can’t beat the villain. He’d just capture you and I’d have to rescue you, but then there wouldn’t be anyone down here to work the—”
“Get in the damned box,” Fantasie snapped, pushing the sword into the narrow crevice at the top of the dumbwaiter, and muttering.
“Are you angry at something?”
Fantasie turned back to Dash, one eye wide and the other twitching. “No. Of course not. Tell me, Dash. How can you be such a… a… man sometimes, but never when I want you to?!”
“Huh?”
“In. The. Box.”
Dash shook his head, and climbed into the hole in the wall, hugging his knees to his chin and twisting his head. “Alright, I’m reAH!” Dash yelped as the box suddenly wrenched upward. “Take it easy, FAAH! Fanta!”
“Oh, I’ll take it eeeeeeasy,” she growled back through gritted teeth. One more hoist, and he was suffused in total darkness.
The darkness got boring very quickly, but that didn’t matter, as Dash was well distracted by the cramps forming in his legs and neck. Dash mused that this was a little like being born, only a lot colder and less gooey. He doubted Fanta would have appreciated the comment.
Dash’s journey abruptly ceased with a metallic grinding sound above the box. The box didn’t lock into place, and in fact kept jerking up and down. He wiggled around as much as he was able, but still felt stone at the empty end of the dumbwaiter. Suddenly, he realized the problem: the sword was caught between the top of the box and the top of the shaft!
He was about to yell down to Fantasie when light and smoke appeared above. Dash winced, assuming High Lord Wotsieon had cast some spell to kill him. After a few moments of not being dead, and the only searing pain coming from the all-too-natural cramps in his legs, he figured he was mistaken. The box lowered slightly, and Dash heard his sword shift and clang.
The box jumped upwards again, jolting against the pulley and locking into place. A bell rang. Dash blinked, as he looked out the door, his eyes watering both at the unaccustomed light and the smoky air. The room had an acrid, sharp smell that Dash couldn’t quite place. A tall, thin man with shaggy robes and shaggy hair was holding his sword and looking back at him. Giggling.
Dash wasn’t sure what to do. This had to be Wotsieon, and the wizard had to know that Dash did not belong in the dumbwaiter, yet all he did was giggle. Dash decided to at least try to get into the room – if he was to be magicked to death or stabbed with his own scavenged blade, he didn’t want to have it happen in the box. Wotsieon might send it back down, and who knew what that would do to Fantasie’s delicate female disposition?
Wotsieon did nothing to stop Dash from dismounting the dumbwaiter, except for giggling even harder when the hero tripped and fell flat on his face. Dash got quickly to his feet, doing his best to look the dignified hero Guydde insisted he was.
Wotsieon leveled Dash’s blade, and poked it at him. Dash jumped back, into the wall. “How’m I supposed to eat you if you’re gonna dance away?” Wotsieon started guffawing, one hand over his mouth as he poked at Dash again. Dash dashed to the side, moving around Wotsieon to get more room to maneuver.
He held his hands out in front of him, both to calm Wotsieon and defend against the sword. “I’m not your dinner.”
“You do look a little more rare than I like, hee hee…” the wizard giggled. “I might have to try ya anyway, I was getting all… hungry, ya know? Hungry.”
“I’m not very tasty, mister, really.” Dash hazarded a look around the chamber. Thick haze diffused the light from the shuttered windows and the great skylight that invisible from street level. Beneath the skylight, a large bed of many assorted small plants grew, with a small, puffy tree at the center. Beneath each window, another small flower bed sat filled with the wares of Wotsieon’s craft. Behind him was a table, with several dried herbs and a narrow metal pot around which the smoke was thickest. “Would you… mind giving me back my sword?”
“What? Oh, sure,” Wotsieon began, his words slow. He turned the hilt in his hand, offering Dash the pommel. “Wait…” he drew the blade back. “You’re not here to sell me somethin’, are ya? Cuz I don’t need any more insurance, that’s just a real downer, man.”
“No, no, I’m not here to sell you anything,” Dash replied. “I’m actually here to, uh… get something from you.”
“Well what’s that?” Wotsieon asked, eyes glazed.
“Uh… my sword, for starters.”
“Oh, sure, man. I don’ need it.” Wotsieon handed Dash the sword, and shambled over to the table, tumbling into the chair beside it. He laughed. “Relax, man, stay a while. I can find a box for you to sit in if that would make you more comfortable. Comfortabool. Comfort a bull. HA!” Wotsieon slapped his leg, cackling.
Dash was fairly certain the man was insane. He didn’t like that one bit. Wizards were dangerous enough, but crazy wizards were also unpredictable. They didn’t always play by the rules. Dash had his sword. He should just cut Wotsieon down then and there. Except…
Wotsieon interrupted his thinking. “What are ya here for then, man? Wait… lemme see your teeth.” Dash paused, and gave a nervous smile. “Ah, purdy things there. You must be here about a Quest or somethin’.”
Dash was coming to hate his teeth. They always gave him away. “Yeah. I need to get… something from you so I can defeat the Dim One, your master.”
“Bah,” the High Lord waved the suggestion away. “Man, that guy’s only there for you guys to fight. Why are you fightin’ him, anyway? You don’t even know, do ya, man?” He started to laugh. “Don’t you see how presponder… propister… crazy it is man? Nah, you don’t know nothin’ of it, they wouldn’t tell ya. How long since they took you from your farm, kid?”
Dash tried to think how long it had been, but found it difficult. “Um… a couple weeks?”
Wotsieon laughed. “Man, they must not have told you crap yet. You’re supposed to adventure far and overthrow the Dim One and become king yourself, right?”
“Um… I guess. Would you mind helping, maybe?” Wotsieon started to laugh. Dash thought about how far he had come, and how much he knew about the reasons, and it suddenly seemed incredibly amusing. Dash started laughing too, even more so after he dropped his sword. He bent down to pick it up, and instead decided to sit down next to it. Wotsieon walked back to his chair and sat. “Aren’t we supposed to fight?”
The High Lord blinked, and laughed more. “Probably, man, but what’s the rush. I’m here, you’re here, and if you don’t beat me, another one of you will.”
“Nuh-uh. I’m the only one of me I know about.” Unless there was another one of him running around… maybe that was the guy doing bad things to make Fantasie act so strangely? He’d have to think about this.
“Naw, man, just another Quest boy like you. And say, aren’t you folks supposed to come through the door, man?”
“I talked to your doorman downstairs,” Dash replied. The sword was starting to feel really heavy in his hands, and he felt like sitting down.
So did Wotsieon, apparently – the mage sunk to his knees to sit cross-legged on the floor with Dash. “What? Oh, Hunch, no man. You quest people are supposed to come up through the door.”
“But there’s traps back there,” Dash laughed.
“Of course there’s traps, man, there have to be traps or you’d just get right up here. And they keep away those insurance people, too. Do you know what the deductible on a tower like this is? They must think I’m crazy or somethin’, man.”
“They’re just trying to make a living, I guess,”
“Well, I’m trying to make a livin’ too. Just an honest villain, ya know? Just doin’ my job, but everyone acts like I’m a bad guy or somethin’. It’s the family business. My father was an evil minion, and his father before him. Real nice guy, gramps was, always said grandma was the real evil one but she just kept the place clean.”
Dash tried to think, but it was like churning sand instead of butter. “Don’t you… don’t you like… oppress everyone around here?”
“Oppress people?” Wotsieon blinked and seemed to be putting a lot of effort to form the words around his tongue. “What’s that mean?”
“It means… I dunno. Like, you make life bad for people in the city.”
“Nah, man, I never did that.” The wizard waved a hand dismissively. “I just stay up here and leave ‘em alone. This town is here ‘cuz of the business I bring, all you quest people coming after me and the guild and everythin’.” Wotsieon rose, and moved over to the planter behind Dash. “My tower is like a, a seed, ya know? And the whole town is growin’ from it. See?”
A large seed appeared in his hand, and he dropped it into the planter. He picked up a watering pot from the floor, and sprinkled some onto the seed. “:weird2::isthatso::weird::embarrass::sunny::Herb2:” he said, and the seed sprouted stems with long, narrow, jagged leaves.
Dash clapped. “That’s pretty neat. I wish I could have done that back on the farm.” Dash suddenly remembered the talk of fertilizer. “You don’t use… blood or anything?”
“Blood? What would I use blood for, man?”
“They say you use it for fertilizer.”
“What? Nah, man. Blood’s expensive. I use the stuff the bats leave in the roof, the plants love that. Hey, I’m getting hungry. You getting hungry? I’m gonna have Hunch send up some food.”
Dash didn’t think that was going to work, but couldn’t remember why. The wizard called into a small hole in the wall next to the dumbwaiter. “Ey, Hunch, man? Send up somethin’ I can eat this time. Enough for two of us. Hunch? You there man? Don’t make me come down there.”
“Right away, sir,” Fantasie’s very bad impression of the manservant answered back.
Dash started giggling, but Wotsieon didn’t notice the difference. “That’s cool, man.” He turned back to Dash. “So, what did you want from me?”
What did Dash want from him again? “Something to do with… defeating… something…” Dash giggled. “I’m not sure. What do you have? Anything powerful?”
Wotsieon twittered. “More powerful than what we’re usin’ now? Sure, sure. It’s strong stuff, man. Strong. Here,” he stumbled across the room and took a false stone from the wall, removing a pouch the size of a moneypurse. “Yeah, this stuff is craaaazy man. Give this to someone, and they’ll be like, out of it, man. They’ll like, touch the sky.”
Dash wasn’t sure what that meant. It would kill his enemies? “So, if I gave it to someone, they’d be, uh…”
“Completely wasted, man. It like, takes your spirit on a journey, it’s crazy. I’m saving it, though.”
Dash didn’t know what Wotsieon was talking about, but it sounded like what he needed. “What for?”
Wotsieon blinked, then turned his head up toward the ceiling. His scraggly hair hung from his head like dead vines. “Err… I dunno man. When I need to have a good day, I guess.”
“Well… could I take some?”
“Of this stuff? No, man, I wanna keep it.”
Dash was fairly certain that meant it was what he came to get. He glanced down at his sword. “I’d really like to have some of that.”
Wotsieon narrowed his eyes. “You gonna steal it or somethin’?”
Heroes in this situation usually did one of two things: kill the minion and take what they needed, or steal it and be pursued by the minion for the rest of the Quest. “I don’t see how I could run away from you, up here.”
“Yeah… you’re gonna have to try to kill me then, man. I hate when you guys do that. I never did anything bad to ya, I’m just up here in my dread tower, mindin’ my own business, and you come along and try to do yours.”
“My business is farming,” Dash insisted. “But the Plot needs me.”
“Oh, yes, the almighty Plot,” Wotsieon giggled. “There’s no Plot anymore, even if there ever was. People just don’t know what to do without it, so they do what they think it says. That’s the real oppressor, man, not me, or my boss guy, whoever that is this year. Ya listening, kid?”
“Huh? Wha?” Dash had zoned out while looking at plant shadows on the floor. Wotsieon had said something, and now he had to reply… well, he hadn’t given up the bag, so he must still be resisting. “You could just, I dunno, give the stuff to me, and we could all be happy.”
Wotsieon sighed. “You’re bringin’ me down man. :fingers::Herb4::lock:.” Dash yelped as arm-thick vines tipped in pink flowers reached out of the central planter and picked Dash up into the air. Wotsieon put his pouch back into the wall, leaving the fake rock on the floor. “You know, not all of you people succeed in your Quests, man. There’s always more young farmers with perfect teeth to throw away, and its not like anything really bad would happen if you fail. Why do you think I stay in my tower like this, man. The whole world, it’s messed up. People out Questing against each other for no reason, to finish off that book of prophecies… that’s all propaganda, man, it’s all just to keep the economy goin’. They just do it ‘cuz they think it keeps everyone from fighting each other, and it keeps the economy goin’, an’ ‘cuz they’ve forgotten how to do everything else. And so every few months another one of you, you, you misguided guys comes here and tries to kill me, or take something from me, or sell me insurance, and I’m sick of it, man, sick of it. The system is overgrown, man, it’s choking everyone like a big weed. It needs to be pruned, man, pruned.”
Dash realized he should be cursing. But the vines held him up near the ceiling, where the smoke was heaviest. Everything suddenly seemed so much more colorful and swirly. Dash decided that was a lot more interesting than the weird muffled things Wotsieon was saying. He heard bells ringing somewhere, and decided they sounded like Guydde, and said about as much. He laughed.
“Ah, dinner’s here, good,” the High Lord said. “Aww, man, the soup is cold. Hunch knows I hate that.” Dash started laughing. “Cold soup isn’t very funny, man.”
“It is from up… wow, my voice sounds really heavy!”
“Wow, sounds like it’s really strong up there. I’ve never tried that before. :dance2::smileup::bump:.” More vines grew, picking up Wotsieon and carrying him up to the ceiling with Dash.
Everything became stranger and harder to keep track of. It was all very funny, of that much he was sure, but it was all very peculiar. He thought he saw flying ponies, but he wasn’t sure. Dash always liked ponies. Both men giggled.
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“Oh, don’t worry yourself, miss,” Hunch called from the other side of the room, where he was still tied up. “My lord never hurts anyone up there if he can help it.”
“If he can help it? How often can’t he help it?”
“Well, whenever someone is too insistent. Doesn’t get the hint and leave him be, like.”
Dash was many things. Tall, loyal, handsome, strong, pretty… with such lovely thighs and… well, all that aside, one thing he wasn’t was stubborn, so he would probably be okay. Probably. Unless Wotsieon was having a bad day. Or Dash said something characteristically unobservant. Or if Hunch was lying, or, or, or…
Fantasie screamed out her frustration. “Why couldn’t I have just gone upstairs with him!”
“It looked like you were mad with sir, miss.”
“I know I was mad at him! Arg!”
A bell rang upstairs. “Oh my,” Hunch commented.
“’Oh my’ what? What?” Fantasie asked, instantly worried.
“That’s one of the trap bells from my quarters, miss. It tells when one of the traps in the tower is triggered, so I can go set it up aga… oh my, there’s another one!”
Fantasie started running for the stairs. “Wait! Wait, miss!” She paused. “It must be the traps upstairs going off, the ones on the lower levels are still set!”
Fantasie nodded. “Thanks!” She rushed up the stairs, images of Dash stumbling downstairs, tripping wires and stepping on panels, shot and sliced and impaled and confused. She kicked open the door with bells ringing behind it, ducking to the side as a heavy metal ball flew out where she had been standing. She ran into the room, looking around for where trap triggers would most likely lie, and the unlikely spots they actually probably were. She turned toward the next set of stairs, jumped over a tripwire, skidded around a false panel, and ran up another set of stairs on the handrails.
The door at the top of those steps was open, which she didn’t trust for a moment. She paused with a foot on each handrail, and peeked into the next room, bells tinkling downstairs. Fantasie forced herself to stay calm—even if Dash was in trouble, getting herself killed on the way upstairs wouldn’t help either of them.
She saw a metal handle bolted into the wall on the other side of the door about where Hunch would be able to reach it, with a small platform underneath. She gave an experimental push down on the handle, then swung down onto the platform.
Then, she screamed when a crossbow bolt punched through her shoulder. She swore – the way around the trap was so obvious there was probably no trap on the doorway to begin with. It figured – the one trap that Dash wouldn’t have fallen for, she did. Fantasie took a deep breath and charged for the next stairwell, ignoring the bells behind her.
As she reached the foot of the stairs, the door opened and a weight slid out of the ceiling, smashing into the man coming out the door. The body landed with a thud. Fantasie screamed, and rushed toward the body, then stopped, eyes wide.
It wasn’t Dash. It was an older man, with scraggly hair and loose brown robes, with bolts, holes, and blood leaking out in at least half a dozen places. The last blow had made him quite dead. “Wotsieon?” she wondered aloud. Why had he come down into his own dungeon, into his own traps? And what was that smell?
“Hey!” She turned toward the voice at the top of the stairs, where Wotsieon had been killed. Dash was there, leaning heavily against the weight that had felled the wizard. “Did a herd of pink ponies fly this way?” Then, he fell down the stairs. Fantasie rushed to him, and found him unhurt and giggling.
“Dash? Dash! Are you okay?”
Dash pointed up at her bleeding shoulder, sputtered, and laughed. Fantasie let out a breath, smiling. Dash was okay. So she kicked him until he stopped laughing. “You don’t even know you beat the wizard, do you?” Well, the wizard was beaten at least.
“What? Hey! Hey, hey, hey, Fanta. Fanta, hey, you have to come upstairs with me Fanta, the room up there is soooo funny!”
Fantasie became scared again. There was something wrong with him. Maybe he was ensorcelled… by a herbomancer, though? She would get his attention. “Stand up, Dash,” she said. “Stand UP.” She yanked him to his feet with her good arm, and gave him a forceful kiss. She loved it, the feel of his lips on hers, his mouth around her tongue… until he started giggling.
Her knee found its way to his crotch, and the wizard-slayer found his way back to the floor.
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Thanks for the review, Craven :). Everyone else... feel free to criticize.
btw, here are a few renditions of some of my characters Mondu the Fat has done in the artwork forum. The last one especially catches the tone, I think.
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Flow/Pacing
Score: 5
Comments: Like a true story writer, the flow and pacing of Low Points is hard to disrupt or even match. Each section of the story segued beautifully into another, which also enhanced the story structure and quality of content.
Quality of Structure
Score: 5
Comments: I've read through this story three times now, looking for error, but this area truly shined its best in the light of the story telling.
Quality of Content
Score: 5
Comments: Again, stoned wizards, towers of dread and cliché heroes move the story to where its going, and why its going there. Nice job!
Originality of Content
Score: 4.5
Comments: Playing off the fantasy world and blending it with the real world, You have created a beautiful world where everything happens because that's how things work. Original, yet well known heroes lead the battle to complete the prophecy in this humorous rip of fantasy. I couldn't give you a perfect score, because I've known I've seen similar stories in the past.
Grammar
Score: 4.5
Comments: Again, a few typos and mispells here and there. Not noticable by the untrained eye.
Total: 24
Poetry Challenge
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