Pink Bunnies and Happy-Heads
the strange but really true thing that happened the other day, honest
by Fulto Brim, do - er of Lillet - er, all deeds good
- what's a druid to do? - there was I, minding my own business in the company of my hot bunny-girl Lillet (- who was quietly musing on her most recent utterly amazing experience - i.e. me) - when everything around me slows down and I'm surrounded by some sort of magikal aura: suddenly I'm whisked off to some cave full of those little bearded types, and for some reason there's two other people here too - well, I say people - one was a very fidgety-looking hamster, and the other was something that looked sort of like a badly-damaged masters-of-the-universe toy: as it turned out, they had names - the hamster was Hengis, and the thing from weird-city was 'called' Snuurg - I think that's what it said.
Anyway, we had all been summoned to carry out some mission to save the world - according to the bunny-dwarves - as a certain Sigurd Strongarm had been kidnapped from amongst their ranks by a bunch of smiley-faced mutants - and, since Sigurd was sculptor of ourselves and many of the other Created, he was obviously someone very important indeed. I never quite understood how it should necessarily be down to us to do anything about it, but apparently that's got nothing to do with it.
Well, we were magiked about again, and found ourselves at once atop a very tall and cliffy cliff with no obvious way down - other than the obvious way that involved being smashed to bits at the bottom, and then probably chewed on by whatever thingies happened to be lurking about in the unnecessarily foreboding-looking forest spreading out at the base of the cliff. Some distance away in the very midst of all this woody wood was the fort of the mutants where Sigurd was supposedly being held.
We noticed that some way down one face of the cliff was a slight sticking-out bit with something on it that looked very much like a brown paper parcel tied up with hairy string: since we had no rope, it looked like somebody was going to have to risk climbing down the short space between. Snuurg made some frankly insulting comment regarding monkeys and trees which I won't dignify by repeating here, but somehow or other it ended up being me, against my better judgement, who had to go and fetch the thing.
After much heroic toil I returned to the top with the parcel, which Hengis set upon before I'd even finished climbing, worrying at the string with a sort of desperate energy that somehow or other caused it to come undone. Inside were several items that for the most part seemed entirely useless - ironically, one of the few things that was of obvious use was a grapnel attached to a length of rope sufficient to get us down the cliff.
Brilliant.
Snuurg nicked the only other good bit of kit, a telescope. Otherwise, we had the following: a tin of custard; a shark-fin; a newt's eye, a mushroom, and a cooking pot - plus of course the hairy string and brown paper. Hooray.
With our considerable intellects (well, mine) taxed to the limit trying to determine the meaning of it all, I finally sought inspiration from the Uurth-Mother by casting a spell, roping in the unwary Snuurg as an accomplice and component-part of the magik by having him lay his lady-pleaser within a magikal circle I'd just drawn in the dirt. I put mine in too for that added extra, and chanted,
" by our two enormous dicks,
show us how these things be mixed "
A brief flash of something other than our bountiful bits gave me the necessary insight, and I proceeded to bundle the items into the cooking-pot while mumbling,
" eye of newt and fin of shark,
smelly fungus from the park,
mixed up in some yellow goop
- I summon cream of tomato soup! "
- whereupon the pot brought forth a delicious broth of the same name: unfortunately it brought it forth all over us, and kept on bringing it forth even after we'd all eaten our fill: no amount of 'stop, little pot, stop' -ing would get the bugger to pack it in, so we ended up tying the lid on tight with the hairy string, putting a rock on top of it, and hiding it some distance away on the other edge of the cliff-top and hoping nobody would notice.
Meanwhile, we thought it must be about time we got on with things: while Hengis and I made use of the rope to get down, Snuurg insisted on 'keeping watch', sitting on his big lazy bum and peeking through his new telescope at us as we reached the bottom. He waved, somehow managing to do it with sarcasm.
Hammy the hamster dashed into the undergrowth, terribly eager little chap: I was becoming worried that he would burn himself out before long with all the fidgeting and rushing about he seemed to do; personally, I was looking forward to a nice walk in the woods, which looked a lot less full of forebode at ground level.
Somehow we would have to navigate our way towards the fort without being able to see where the hell it was with all the trees in the way: fortunately, it was pointed out to us, after a fashion, as a hail of ballista-bolts came darting towards us from wherever it was: this struck me as somewhat dangerous, though fortunately nothing else struck me. Somewhere behind us, Snuurg was laughing in a very unhelpful manner. Hengis had the audacity to suggest that my having tripped on a fallen branch had alerted the fort's guards to our position, but I ignored his foolishness because I knew the truth - that the branch had fallen, just as I was stepping forward, and that therefore it must all be part of Nature's plan.
Anyway, we managed to avoid getting pincushioned, and Hengis meanwhile had sniffed out a way for us to get into the fort without getting seen - or more importantly, shot at: actually it didn't take that much sniffing, as what he had discovered was the out-pipe from the fort's sewer.
Whoopee doo.
In true rodent fashion, with no care for the rankness of the thing, Hengis shot into it like a rat up a drainpipe: needless to say I preserved a little more caution, but eventually had to give in to the fact that there really wasn't any other way to do this right now.
Just as I stepped into the pipe, it was night time - by which I don't mean that the sun gradually faded as we went forward, but that it was just night-time, just like that - that's the way it happens in Wyrdworld......not that I have any basis for comparison, but it just seems weird.
During this time Snuurg had finally got up off his arse and come down the cliff, but had taken the radically different approach of thumbing a lift in with one of the mutants from the fort, on his way back from a neighbouring outpost. There we were, covered in several different shades of it, and Snuurg was getting a bloody lift! I suppose there's at least one benefit to being a mutant, after all.
Using the darkness as cover, Hengis and I crept out into the compound, where the hamster first of all went to retrieve the pink-bunny costume hanging from the fort's flagpole, as I busied myself trying to sneak around looking for which of the buildings housed the captive dwarf: I really needn't have bothered though, because just as Hengis was climbing back down again, he slipped and crashed through the roof of the very hut we were looking for - full of guards, and also housing Snuurg, who was having a drink with them! Not before time, he finally joined in and started attacking the guards, but seemed to be having a bad day - because for all of his reputation as a warrior, he kept missing everything he took a swing at. Fortunately both Hengis and myself took ample care of enough of the guards to allow us to escape, with the dwarf in tow.
We went to the lizard-pens to get ourselves something to ride and immediately took flight for the gates, which even now were being lowered: I cast a quick spell to allow us to get through, and we headed out into the darkness, with more ballistae firing at us from the battlements, as others of the melts began to mount upon the remaining lizards to give chase.
With no apparent end in sight, we were suddenly glad to see a huge balloon rounding the side of the cliff, bearing the symbol of the all-father Fozterzz and crewed by a number of dwarves. We raced underneath the thing, Hengis and Sigurd managing jammily to get hold of the hanging rope-ladders on their first attempt while Snuurg and I failed miserably to do the same: so, using my last ounce of magik, I wet myself while simultaneously shouting,
" by the power of my leaking bladder,
get us up that bloody ladder ! "
- which worked, sort of - probably due to Snuurg's negative aura, the spell brought us up there all right, but still sat on our lizards, which were far too heavy for the balloon: we began to sink down, coming dangerously within range of the ballistae - not a good thing when you're in an inflatable. Finally managing to make himself useful, Snuurg put his strength to work to heave the lizards out, and we upped-and-awayed.
Somehow we ended up back in the original cave, and after thanks all round from the dwarves we were each re-tele-wotsitted back to where we'd been, which in my case was back to the loving arms - and other more interesting bits - of my little love-bunny Lillet, who was more than welcoming to my return. Mmm.