Happy
Trails
And
so, Darq and company had a safe journey for the rest of their flight, and
landed promptly and safely in midwest Kronus. Traulus was pleased by the mere
thought that he had been associated with such wonderful warriors and decided to
let the ride go as a free favor, but the next time he met up with them, things
would be entirely different.
As
soon as the Dracuse and dragon left Darq rushed to the nearest town, that being
Vivianne. His first stop, a pleasant inn where he could take a decent bath and
get the stench of dragon removed from himself. Darq utterly despised dragons,
in fact if he had a choice, he would have them all burned and buried far from
civilization. Meanwhile, Ricarde spent his free time reviving Gello to his
conscious state. When Gello did finally awake, Ricarde had wished he actually
hadn’t woken the bastard up. Our company met up with each other in a quaint
little tavern near the eastern side of town. Darq was especially thirsty and
decided to use all of his money on booze and more booze. Ricarde ordered a pleasing
flank steak, and Gello complained in his usual whiny voice. “Urgh, I actually
rode on a dragon…wow…I can’t believe you brought me on such a beastly creature.
I feel degraded!”
“Oh
shut up,” Darq said as he gave Gello a good thwack on the head, “why can’t you
ever be content. It doesn’t hurt to have a few drinks and be happy ya know.”
“A
few drinks…boy, that’s the world’s worst understatement! You drink as if the
world’s liquor supply was about to be drained completely. What a booze-hound!”
“Booze-hound?
Listen you scrawny twit, I deserve my hard-earned ale…I saved all our asses
back there…by the way,” Darq leaned over towards Ricarde, “about those strange
people…who in the hell are cool anyway?” Ricarde looked up from his
half-eaten flank steak and glanced at Darq.
“Hmmm…quite
a strange name…is it perhaps an acronym? An ellipsis of some sort? Cool?
Cowardly offbeat outranked losers?”
“No
Ricarde…their name means nothing. All I wonder is, are there more of them. More
griffin-riding sorcerers?”
Gello
looked up from where he lie, face down, “CoOH,L eh? I’ve heard of them.
Apparently they are,” Gello cleared his throat, “the Coalition of Official
Heroes, Ltd. I’ve heard quite a deal about them, it seems as though they are
revered as champions of the people around here.”
“Champions of the people?” Darq let out a resigned sigh. “Man, I bet we’re gonna be screwed now. Suppose people love these freaks…maybe they’ll tell them about us…maybe the people will hunt us down. Great…just damn great.”
“I do have a question, however…Why did they choose to attack us?” Ricarde asked suspiciously. Gello scratched his thick skull and lifted his finger when he had the solution.
“You see Ricarde,” Gello said as if he knew something, “dragons are considered a great threat around this part of the continent, the people don’t see them much and when they do…well I suppose they think it belongs to some sort of villainous fiend!” Ricarde understood but was still found that an unsatisfactory reason for which to attack a band of travelers.
Darq
was beat, tired, resigned, exhausted, drained, done in, bushed, weary, and worn-out. Ricarde was immensely
happy, and eager to return to the adventures that awaited. Gello, on the other
hand, was thinking of other things. Treasure. Limitless wealth. He began to ask
around. “Where’s some treasure?” “Know of any wealth fountains around these
parts?” and “Got any gold?” The usual greedy Gello questions, but this time,
his prayers were answered.
“Treasure
eh?” an old man said as he sat at a secluded table. He wore a pointy straw hat
and a battered brown cloak. “I can tell ya where ta find such, me lad.” Gello was ready for action,
treasure awaited, and he was willing. Yet the old man seemed chillingly
familiar. Anyhow, Gello had an open mind and ear and was anxious to go
a-treasure-hunting. “One word me boy…Klikeno.” Gello’s eyes widened.
“Klikeno?”
“Ya
heard me right laddee…Klikeno. A strange tribe of 3 ½ feet tall yellow bird
men…They hold a sacred treasure, and hoard it from others. Just go a-venturing
out about them woods there, and I guarantee you’ll find what ye be a-lookin’
fer.” Gello was excited, and geared up to go.
“Thank
you old man, I should nary forget a favor such as you have done for me this
day. Thank you!” With that, Gello gathered up his companions, and rushed
through the tavern door.
“No
dear boy…thank you!” The old man removed his robes and revealed a green cloak
and pointy green hat. “HAHAHAHAHA!”
“Now
do you have to do that laugh?” an old witch stepped from the shadows of the
bar. “It really gets rather agitating me boy.” The green mage looked up at her.
“Really
Hazel, could you please allow me to be dramatic here, man! I mean, I really
honestly try, and you go off and ruin the theatrical monologue. Thanks a lot
you old bag!”
“Old
bag? Now listen here Rogget! I could break you like that,” the witch snapped
her fingers. “Just because you’re the designated leader, doesn’t mean I’m not
more powerful!” Rogget (the green wizard in case you haven’t figured that out,
you dopes) lowered his head and mumbled an apology. Hazel accepted and picked
him up by the collar. “Ok lad, round up the troops…just in case those fools
decide to leave the distraction we’ve planned for them, we’ll have a little
something waiting for them.”
Rogget
nodded. “Certainly hazel” Rogget clenched his fists in preparation for his team
motto. “What are we?” he asked loudly.
“Cool”
He and Hazel said ensemble.
“Who
are we?”
“CoOH,L!”
* *
* *
The three fellows gathered up some
supplies from a cozy bazaar and were on their way. They washed up a bit and
headed down a dusty deserted trail. Darq reached for the buckle on his belt, a
silver rectangle with a yellow pentacle on the front. With a swift motion, he
pulled it out of place and held up to his mouth. He unscrewed a lid on top and
took a drink. It was a cleverly disguised flask (oh boy). Ricarde held his axe
to his side and whistled a lively tune, happy that now his journey would resume
and maybe he’d get a chance to kick a little ass. Gello’s eyes were green, they
always were, but this time they were green with greed. “Money, money, money,
money, money, money, money.”
“My
lord Gello,” Darq took a sip of his alcholic beverage and wiped his mouth,
“what is your problem, money isn’t everything! Oh wait a minute…what am I
saying? Money Is everything. LET’S PICK UP THE PACE HERE!” Darq began to
run down the trail with incredible haste and the others soon followed.
“So
Gello, what exactly did you say we were searching for here? Klik-a-chik?”
Ricarde said with a curious smile.
“That’s
Klikeno you buffoon, Klik-e-no.” Gello was in quite a hurry and had no time, as
he would say, for idle chit chattery.
“Klikeno
eh? Now what exactly is that?”
“THEM…Klikeno…a
tribe of 3 foot poultry men. I’d say they were weak opponents, but then again,
I am the strongest here, so I can’t possibly hope that you two imbeciles would
defeat any such chicken men.” Gello’s nose was upturned in its usual snobbish
position.
“Harumph…Whadda
you know? You couldn’t beat up a grape!” Darq was infuriated. They soon reached
the end of their trail and came upon a shady entrance to what was called Yellow
Forest. Ricarde was intrigued by the fact that they were entering a forest.
Familiar territory. He would lead the way from now on.
“We
need to stop and set up camp.” Ricarde stopped abruptly and did a swift
about-face. Darq gave a slight shrug and Gello stamped his foot. Ricarde soon
set up his famous makeshift fire hole. Darq whispered a chant and blasted a
warm and toasty Reptu Ki into the hole filled with leaves and bound twigs.
Meanwhile Gello was busy trying to set up a tent. He pulled off his large cloak
and attempted to through it over a tree. He failed several times, having the
cloak drape over his thick skull. After a 5th attempt he achieved
success. Darq whipped out his chef’s hat and wandered around the campsite
gathering up ingredients. “Hangover Stew”…his favorite. He collected some WooJi
leaves and a bit of strong spice. He threw them into the cauldron hanging over
the makeshift fire and began stirring it up. He looked left…right…left, and
then relinquished his cleverly disguised buckle/flask. After unscrewing the
tightened lid, he poured almost half a flask of ale into the stew. Darq gave a
slight chuckle, sat by the fire, and waited.
After a few minutes, the stew was
completed. One bite, and Gello was out cold. Ricarde only had a bowlful. Darq,
on the other hand, almost devoured the entire cauldron. Ricarde looked up from
his bowl and gave Darq a sly glance. “So is it true?”
Darq was confused. “What?”
“What they call you…is it true?”
“Who’s they and what do they
call me?”
“Well, I’ve been around a few
villages…seasons change and I make my home in different forests right outside
of villages…well the point is: When I
first heard you tell me your name…I was in shock. I’ve heard your name many a
time in several villages. The people there say that once you ate a fully grown,
healthy, large cow. One villager even went so far as to say that you’ve eaten a
baby before. Since then the people of those certain villages have dubbed
you…’Darq Valuere, eater of worlds… and assorted casseroles.”
Darq gave a slight chuckle. “That
sounds about right…and the cow was not full grown mind you. The baby thing…it
was an accident.”
Ricarde’s eyes popped out of his
head. “WHAAAAAA?”
“Just kidding…geez what a gullible
oaf. I’d never eat a cow.”
“WOW! YOU’RE BAD!”
“Another joke I’m afraid…none of
those things are true…I just have a big appetite. For all the energy I have to
exert to carry this mallet, much less use my fire magic ability to ignite
things, I’m surprised I don’t eat whole planets!”
Ricarde
nodded. “It’s a fair cop.” Darq wiped his mouth of the stew and retired to
Gello’s shabby tent. Ricarde stared into the fire as it lulled him to a
peaceful slumber. Tomorrow was a new day, with new discoveries…and
new…uh…money.