Mage Chapters 11, 11, and 12

Chapter 11: You can teach a man to fish, but I wouldn’t

1

Now is the actual time when we will check up on Alarxis. The plane-shifter who was still shut up tight in the magic cage Alarxis had created just for him was getting very confused. He found it quite impossible to concentrate in his cell and winked out of existence.
“Wh-what the crap?” Alarxis exclaimed only to feel someone tapping him on the back. He turned quickly to see the plane-shifter standing there. “Now don’t do that anymore, it is very disorienting.” Alarxis finished trying to remain calm.
“Lord Allocatia,” The plane-shifter addressed him. “Would it be true that Tygony has tried to do you in?”
“You could say that.” Alarxis began, “You could also say that every chance he has gotten he has freaking gone whacko and attempted not only to do me in, but also do in all my friends. Does he work for that Great Lord of F-Ups as you used to?”
“No, he is just a quite incompetent mage. A very powerful and quite wise mage, but extremely deaf.” The plane-shifter said. “If you do not wish to give Argamenianon the power to achieve audience with the gods then I would suggest getting yourself to the Wizard’s Council and being imbued with the power of a mage.”
“Yeah but I used some kind of evil book that transported me here, and I have no idea where here is and I’d much like to get there, but there is so much here that I could not see there, yet if there is where I must go then I must not waste another moment here and I must haste to there immediately! Point me in the direction of there for here is getting quite old.” Alarxis bleated.
“Speaking of getting quite old…” the plane-shifter began, “I could arrange for your transport. There is a dragon in the vicinity whom I believe you have already met. I could shift up to his back and ride him back over here so you can easily go there.”
“Make it so, go there and retrieve my dragon and bring it here so that I may go there.” barked Alarxis.
The shifter was gone and back the next moment with the very dragon that had torched his hometown. He had never been happier to see an ugly home-wrecking beast in his life.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” Titus said, “And then this fellow just fell on my back and I was like-’whoa who is this’-and he was like-’hey, dragons can’t talk’-and I was like-”
“I get it Titus. Can you take me there?” Alarxis interrupted.
“Isn’t that just south of here over between somewhere and nowhere?” Titus asked.
“No,” the plane-shifter said, “it is right under there.”
“Underwear?” Titus and Alarxis asked at the same time.
“I mean south of there.”
“Right, then Titus let us go there!” Alarxis said as he mounted the dragon yet again and they took off towards the Wizard’s Council Hall.

2

They arrived at the magical city of There in record time. The city was bustling with activity. Men in ragged clothing were busying about with scrolls and tomes of ancient knowledge looking completely ignorant of the world around them.
Alarxis stopped one of these such mages and asked him where he could find the Council Hall.
“Tiny tubes tip toward town. Don’t dally do depart to destination in that direction.” The man pointed west.
Another mage stopped to listen in on the conversation. “Don’t mind him, he is Alliteration son, I am however the poetic one.”
“Um, ok so you guys are all insane?” Alarxis asked.
“You are the one who should put is head on. You are walking with a dragon. If the Council you seek. You must wait for weeks. Petition for audience. And you might just…uh…um…I am new at this, sorry.” The poetic mage began. “It’s over there by the bar.” Alarxis looked at him crossways. “Ok! You might win a new car.”
Alarxis was suddenly reminded of Argo for some unknown reason. And nodded at the two bewildering mages to attempt communication with each other. I sincerely hope Sarrape Quiego isn’t like them, he thought.
He walked straight into the Council and went up to the front desk. “Uh, yes I’d like to have a word with Sarrape Quiego.”
“Oh, about damn time!” the man behind the desk said. “We’ve only been waiting a few weeks…jeez with you mages! I see Tygony has finally done something right.”
“Uh, actually I found him less than hospitable. I would like to file a complaint.”
“You’ll have to take that up with Lord Quiego. He will see you now.” With that huge doors appeared out of a previously blank wall and began to open. Alarxis was taken aback at the sheer power of the magic that surrounded him.
He however tried to play it cool and walked slowly through the doors trying not to leave his mouth gaping.


3


I am sure that you would like to hear more about this amazing magic that was the Council of Mages, but I feel now it is time for another of my seemingly meaningless side stories. This time we will talk about a singly housewife. Her name for this story will be Fred. Fred lived in a small cottage by a lake and her husband was surprisingly a fisherman (bet you didn’t see that one coming and if you don’t look fast you’ll miss it going).
One day her husband returned from a not-so-surprising day of failed fishing. Although he was a fisherman by trade, he still thought you could catch fish by throwing large rocks at them. I suppose you can catch fish that way, but I would not suggest making a living off of it. Unless of course you also wish to work in a stone quarry for at least part-time work.
Anyway, his wife, the beautiful Fred, did know how to fish. This day she decided that it would be quite cost-effective to teach her husband how to fish. She took him out to the lake and her husband laughed that she meant to throw a stick at them instead of a rock. He argued that a rock has much more surface area so it would have a much better chance of smashing a fish to tiny bits. Well, okay, he is kinda right on that one.
Damn you, stop distracting me. She tied a length of string on the end of the stick and bent the piss out of a sewing needle. Her husband laughed and told her that the string and the needle barely increased the surface area. She tossed the stick plus into the lake and waited. Her husband laughed yet again, though I am not sure why. And suddenly his wife was pulled into the lake.
She swum around for a little bit and was soon consumed by a very large fish. The moral of this story: “Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day; teach a man to fish and you will be eaten by a very large fish.
4

Alarxis walked into the chambers of the Arch-Mage Sarrape Quiego and was instantly set ablaze. It seems that he was trapped. He turned toward the door to find it was not there. The fire was really hot. Really, really hot. It is almost indescribable how hot it actually was, and having not been set on fire myself, I doubt that I could put it to word and do it justice.
The fire soon overtook him and he fell lifelessly to the ground and the fire soon made dust of his bones. This dust was soon swept up by a cleaning maid with gout and a hunched back. The woman had more facial hair than a woman should. But aside from that she was rather attractive (to flies and other filthy vermin such as herself).
I apologize because the last paragraph was mean and nasty. I mean no offense to that maid and if she is reading this I would just like to implore her to never come near me for I may have nightmares for a fortnight. Although I have no clue how long a fortnight is I would rather say that than a score. For score is more than seven years and my father left me nothing on this or any other continent.
I apologize again, but this time for my severe attention defic-wait what was I talking about maybe I am beginning to get amnesia? Although I am not sure I remember what that means. Hmm, I always wondered how people with amnesia remember how to talk. You know, in the movies, the really shitty ones made for TV? Where the guy gets knocked on the head and forgets who he is and his wife is freakin out. Whoa, hang on a minute, I just got bored and realized that the first paragraph in section four is complete bull. I am so sorry yet again. I will continue this in another chapter when I am fully rested (and fully medicated).



Chapter 11: The real story

1

What really happened when Alarxis and Titus reached There is a mystery to us all. He would never speak of it to any of his companions. All he would say was that the There area had weather that didn’t mix well with his palate. Titus simply kept quiet and said, “What happens in There stays in There.” But that does not have that much to do with the actual story line because up until now you probably thought that this book was about Alarxis…well, your wrong! This story focuses upon only one hero…Hammond.
Yes friends, Marvalo his Magnificent self. He being a proud bard knew things that only a seasoned world traveler (as apposed to the bland world traveler, such as Lancelot) such as himself could know. Oh, and Tom, he is a damn good swordsman. Two…two heroes, only two!!!
Wait, Marisha saved all of them by smacking Hammond on the head every now and then, Errp was good to have around when the goblins showed up. Argo was proven loyal even beyond his abyssal origins. Carrie hadn’t been drunk since she had been with them (she’s the true hero, let me tell you)! Oh, and as much as we all probably have grown tired of him, yes I suppose Lancelot is hero for his uncanny ability to always trip into the line of danger to protect the others. Ok, fine you lousy sons of beasts the book is centered on only eight heroes, ok nine but that is enough. I can’t leave out Fred, it was her beauty and wisdom that let her husband to seek the knowledge to fish and ipso-facto led to her great amazing gorgeousness being consumed by a large fish. Hey, she was beautiful, you just had to use the paper-bag concept on her name. Just call her Sue, oh crap that is her husband’s real name, oh shit, I hope witness protection can relocate him fast or he’ll be sleeping with the fishes.

2

Carrie stared at Argo in disbelief. Ok, the one little imp that she actually started to like turned out to be from the Hells. This could probably explain some things, but she didn’t want to have to think about what. So many things ran through her mind, yet none of them had to do with Argo. The disbelief that she stared at Argo with was her lack of faith in the mission. No one even knew what the hell they were supposed to be doing, no one even tried to figure it out. How had she gotten mixed up in this? It was Lancelot.
That big, stupid metal-clad wannabe knight. It was all his fault. Where was Alarxis? She hadn’t seen him forever it seemed. She wondered if he was alright and almost cried when she realized that he may be dead. She wished that she had Marisha’s ability to focus, that might help her sort this mess out.
“So,” Hammond said casually, “which of the Hells are you from?”
“I’m from Indiana.” he answered quietly. Loud gasps could be heard for miles. Indiana was horrible. Mild, temperate summers, harsh winters every so often, it was truly hell among hells.
“I don’t believe it,” said Tom suddenly, “you can’t be from the Hells you have been loyal to us so far. Most of all you are my friend.”
“Sadly, boy you don’t have the luxury of choosing to believe or disbelieve it. The imp is from the barren Hell of Indiana. Also you do have the luxury of accompanying this foul abomination back to Indiana!” Algor shouted as he reached for his casting arm.
“I don’t really want to go in Diana. She is a nice girl and all, but…” Lancelot began but was cut off by the smells of grazing cattle and the sound of wind blowing through a field of corn. He searched franticly for something familiar. “Where are we?”
“Well Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” Argo said bitterly. “You know what’s funny though? I’m not really from Indiana, I am from one of the actual Hells. Indiana is just a state.”
“Huh?” Marisha asked as confused as a retard with a pickle jar.
“Indiana isn’t one of the Hells, we are safe,” Argo began, “Now if he sent us to New Jersey we would have been screwed.”
“We aren’t in Indiana anyway you idiot!” Algor said. Apparently our heroes are dim enough not to notice a one-armed man armed with one arm, because at that moment Marisha felt a sharp pain to the head for a change. He actually hit her with his damn arm. A rage built up in Hammond, a rage so uncontrolled and reckless.
He leapt at the wounded mage with all the fury of a basset hound. He moved to Algor and said, “Hey man she always smacks me with things, good job, gimme five.” When Algor gave him a high five with his good arm Hammond gave the mage a straight jab right in his jaw.
“Hey, what’s the big idea, hitting an unarmed man?” he whined.
“Ok, that is enough of the armless jokes guys!” Carrie said quite loudly.


*Author’s side note*
I would just like to use this opportunity to say something that I found amusing. We all have heard the phrase comic relief. Well, in this story Carrie is the comic relief. She saves us all from having to put up with an almost assuredly unending stream of armless jokes. Carrie is definitely the comic relief, hands down. See, we need Carrie here to kick my ass now. How relieving.



Chapter 12: No, I meant that he’s Dunforth

It began like all days out at the frontier outpost, Corronade, with the slow droning of his bunkmates stirring to get to their horses for the patrol. No one ever found anything on the patrols. Lord Argamenianon was quite clear in his directions however, patrols must be made at sunup. Colonel Dunforth Maxton was the lead of the cavalry that performed the morning ritual.
“All up and mounted in ten minutes!” he shouted loudly in a shrill annoying voice associated with medieval commanders. His men grumbled and moaned as was also the morning ritual. Dunforth readied himself and went to the stables to wait for his men. They were always precisely four minutes and forty-six seconds late. This time was no different.
They got on their horses and took off at a brisk pace. The cold air made his shiver so he pulled up his cowl. His horse had been acting up for a few days now and today was no different. Dunforth had prayed to all of the gods for just one thing in his routine to change. So far no change.
The men were riding up the narrow pass that overlooked the Saul Valley, which would have been quite scenic if he hadn’t seen the same sight for the pass year and a half, every morning.
His horse began to quiver a bit and then sidestep a little. Dunforth kicked his steed to steady it but the dumb bastard overcorrected and sidestepped right off the cliff and plummeted to its death. Dunforth however was more fortunate and grabbed a root hanging from the cliff face.
He shouted for one of his men to come help him and soon two familiar faces appeared. One was his own son who had been on patrol with him for nearly a month now, the other was the outpost’s drunk.
“Father I’ll help you, it doesn’t end here!” his boy shouted.
“Na, tha’s no priest, tha’s Dunfort.” the drunk said.
“No, we can help him give me your rope!” his son protested.
“I telling ya’ he’s done for!” the drunk said and pulled his screaming son away.
Now the moral of this story isn’t obvious it isn’t: “Don’t go looking for change or you’ll find your death.”, or “Friends don’t let friends drive drunk.”, it is “Don’t ever name your son Dunforth, or it could lead to a fatal misunderstanding that could lead to his death, ah, no!…redundancy!” Ah, no punctuation error in the last sentense. Son of a-misspelling! Ok, I am done for now.