The Un-Named Saga Part One: Why potatoes don’t bounce. Lem Nisbog, patriot and hero of the people led the charge, sword cleaving both the air and the enemy. Someone shouted something in the distance. Lem paid it no heed. He had a kingdom with lots of beer to save. He whirled around, sword at the ready and-fell off the barrel he was balancing on into a pile of fresh dragon manure. "NISBOG!!!!!" Lem sat straight up, scraping the odiferous glop away from his eyes. He conjured what he expected to be a nice fluffy towel. Unfortunately, (as always) what he came out with wasn’t exactly what he wanted in the first place. Resignedly, he scraped the manure off with the piece of blackened toast he found inside the strange metal object he had summoned. "NIIIISBOG!!! ! ! !" Lem jumped up and dashed out the door and across the field. When he arrived breathless in Mr. Sosbo’s office, Lem was relived his boss, Mr. Sosbo, had not summoned a demon to go after him. Again. Sosbo was leaning against the wall, staring at one of the company posters that proudly proclaimed ‘Wrent-a-Wyrm: Drop us a lyne!’ He was making notes on a paper, thinking of new slogans. "Niisbog. Wheere weere you? I’ve beeen waaiting teen miinutes. We haave aan eextremeely prestiigious? aand veery riich cuustomeer cooming. Hee haas reeseerved our faasteest draagon." "Yes sir. I see sir. I’ll have him ready in a minute." "Niisbog, you smeell teeribble. Whaat haave you beeen doing?" "Um, sorry sir, I’ll get myself cleaned up right away." "Theeree’s no tiime for thaat now. Geet thaat draagon reeaady. Aand don’t forgeet, teeaach thee cuustomer aall thee commaands!" "Yes sir. Oh, and sir? You can stop with the accent, it sounds silly." "As bad as the last one?" Lem nodded. "Oh, all right." "?And as you can see Prince Trang, this dragon is not only very fast, he is extremely well trained. Here is a list of the commands you need to control him, he is very attentive." Trang took the scroll from Lem’s outstretched hand, then sniffed the air carefully. "Thank you. What is that smell?" "Er? um? it’s eau de drag’o’n. it’s supposed to drive the ladies crazy." "Well, it’ll certainly drive them away!" "Um. Anyway. How about a test ride?" Trang pointed at the scroll. "So this one makes the dragon go?" "Yes, that one makes the dragon go. But be very careful when using it. It will make the dragon go at full speed." "Yes yes I see, but why handbag. That makes no sense at aAAAAALLLLLL!" Suddenly as Trang uttered the word, the dragon belted off at its fastest, becoming almost a blur as it sped off toward the horizon. One could almost hear the prince yelling in the distance. "Great heavens! I dropped the scroll! What do I say to stop this thing?." "Oh dear? I knew I should’ve been more careful. I guess I’ll have to go catch it before the boss notices its gone. Just my luck the dragon festival is in only a week." * * * Lem trudged through the undergrowth, grumbling to himself about dragons, princes, and ladies accessories. He had long since lost Trang’s trail, and was pretty sure he had lost the path as well. He didn’t know how long he had been walking, and at this point, he really didn’t care. He was hungry. He was sore. He was lost. He was tired. He was? absolutely no closer what so ever to finding that damned dragon or that thrice damned idiot prince Trang!!! Sighing, he sat down to try to conjure something to sleep on. Most people could only conjure small, simple things, like colored rocks or cheese sandwiches. Lem was in this respect, extraordinarily powerful. His father had even tried to get him apprenticed with the mage’s guild, but Lem had been laughed of the room? and thrown out the door. This was because, as powerful as he might be, Lem could never seem to conjure the right thing. He would try to get a nice thick wool cloak, and come up with a fur-covered ottoman? or something equally useful. He shivered slightly. It was getting cold and the sun was going to set soon. Lem searched the ground for wood and kindling. This clearing was as good a place as any to stop for the night. Lighting the fire, he stiffened suddenly. He could’ve sworn he had just heard a vicious bleating in the distance. Great. Lem hastily drew a circle in the dirt and began the only bit of major magic he knew... the Summoning of a Minor Demon. Now. What kind of demon would a ferocious pack of sheep be afraid of? The demon of fire kindling? No, too slow to start up, and you can never find enough of it. What about the demon of sticky substances? Hm... No, they could still kill me. Aha! The Demon of skin diseases! Even sheep might be smart enough to stay away from that! Lem placed his medicine bag filled with The magic Fingernail Clippings of the Authors in the center of the circle and drew a pentagram around it. The bleating was getting closer! He had to hurry. Lem quickly scraped his fingernail over a particularly pimply area of his face and shook the result into the pentagram. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the glow of eyes (and ewes) through the bushes. Hastily, he backed away from the circle and raised his arms over his head, gathering his power. "Guius ill demonica!" Lem shouted at the top of his lungs. The pentagram glowed with an unearthly light as the woods shook to the crackling of the air. A great rift arose in the ground under the pentagram as a demon came through. "THOU HAST SUMMONED THE GREAT WALLICARDINASMORCILARDINASWORDICUS LORD OF MOLDS AND FUNGI. WHAT IS THY BIDDING, ah to heck with this! The demonic voice bit hurts my throat. Look, my title is as I said but just call me Wally. And do make your service snappy? The last guy who summoned me kept me out as a guardian of a tomb for a thousand years! Do you have any idea how boring tombs are when you’ve been there for that long?" There was a crash behind them, and the first of the sheep burst bleating (or at least with a small pop) into the clearing. Lem dropped to his knees as he realized the gravity of the situation. Summoning the demon was his last hope, and he couldn’t even get that right! Belatedly, he began to wish he had carried a lethal weapon with him. "Wha......? What is going on!? I didn't summon you, I cast a spell so I could get a temporary guardian against the vicious pack of sheep nearby. Just my luck I get stuck with a lousy useless goo pile. I'm doomed! You couldn’t rot a pile of leaves to save your life!" "Look here mortal, NO one insults a demon’s abilities." "Well, I wouldn’t have to, if you had any! YOU GROW ON OLD SANDWICHES!!!! What are you going to do, make them smell bad??" The sheep stood still, confused because their prey wasn’t even trying to escape (and the authors weren’t finished with the argument scene yet). "So I’m useless, huh? Well, watch this! I’ll show you useless!" Wally flowed over to the nearest sheep, which happened to be the alpha. It snarled at him and bit. Unfortunately all it got was a mouthful of fuzz and a bad aftertaste. The sheep’s eyes widened and it turned a rather pretty shade of ochre. Letting out a strangled bleat, it fell over on its side and started twitching spastically. Sheep are not the smartest creatures in the world (that honor has to go to the cockroaches, who have managed to survive angry house-wives, insecticides, and hungry wildlife for millions of years; and will almost certainly be around for millions more... or at least longer than the sheep) but even they know doom when they see it. This Demon had extinction written all over it... in fuzzy greenish-white letters. Lem hadn’t known sheep could run so fast. In a few seconds, the clearing was sheepless once more. Lem heaved a sigh of relief, his braveheart thumping in his chest. Wally oozed over to the carcass and began to flow over it, desolving it wherever he touched. Lem paled and felt a sudden need to remember what he’d had for lunch. Wally looked up from his blue plate special and turned to gaze at him. "What? You want some?" He gestured toward the now half rotten corpse with a pseudo-pod. "Uhm, N-no. *gag* Thank y-you. Look, sorry I bothered you, I meant to call a different demon. You uh, you can go home now." "I hate to tell you this, but you have to release me." "How do I do that?" "You mean you don’t know?? You went through all the trouble of a PUF summoning spell, and you didn’t even know what it did? I hate to say this kid, but you’re a disgrace to all magi." "But I’m not magi! I just saw some mage do the spell once. That’s all. What’s a puff?" If Wally had had eyes, he would have rolled them. "it’s PUF. P. U. F. and you’re an idiot." Lem glared at the offending heap of slime. "Well thanks, you just gave a great boost to my self esteem." "Look. You probably meant to use the ‘Help, I’m Gonna Die’ (HIGD) summon. But that’s not what you cast. Instead, you used the Permanent Until Fulfilled summon. Now, I’m stuck with you until I either help you fulfill your quest, or you get an actual mage to reverse the spell." "Oh, Great. There isn’t anything else I can do?" "Well," Wally paused "You could violate demonic protocols and just tell me to go home…" "Fine then. Go h- What?" Lem could’ve sworn the mold was grinning. Wally raised a pseudo-pod and made a ‘shut up’ motion in the air. "You want to do that, fine… but you’ll have to deal with the Court of High Demons. Lots of paperwork," Lem shuddered. "And it’ll cost you an arm and a leg. …Literally." "Uhm, maybe you’re not that bad…" Lem hazarded. Wally gave the moldy equivalent of a smirk. "Trust me kid, I am. So. What’s it gonna be? Want to go find a mage who’ll agree the you’re an idiot, or do have a quest in mind?" "Uh." Lem said confidently. "Mage. Quest. Pick one." "I could use a beer. Does that count as a quest?" "Ah, no. it doesn’t. sorry, a quest has to be something that benefits a lot of people…" Lem opened his mouth. "And not just the ones you buy your beer from." "Rats. Well, I guess I’ll just have to think of a quest then." "What, no mage?" "No." Lem answered curtly. He desperately wished he’d brought camping supplies. He had expected to catch the dragon some time the same day, and had come unprepared for anything else. Now he not only had to brave the results of his conjuring, he had a witness (mold he might be, but a witness all the same) to see him screw up. He was already the laughing-stock of the whole town; bad enough to be laughed at by humans, now he would be laughed at by other-planars too. Lem sighed and held up his hands, concentrating. He would get this right. Lem closed his eyes and pictured a bedroll on the ground in front of him, weaving his power into its form. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Wally, jiggling with mirth. "Hahaha! No wonder you don’t want to go to a mage! You can’t even conjure things correctly! Or am I wrong in assuming you didn’t want a-" "Oh, shut up." Lem grumpily shifted under the mammoth slice of wonder bread. * * * Lem woke with a start as day broke over the horizon. ‘Hm. The crash was louder this morning. I guess this means it’s going to be a long day.’ He looked over at the snoring blob of mold on his left and sighed. ‘A very long day’. He banished the bread and stretched. "Hey, sleeping beauty!" Lem gave the amorphus pile of goo a light kick. "you’re here to help me fulfill my quest, aren’t you? Let’s go. I need some food." Wally shifted and growled something about annoying ping pong paddles and fish. "Hey! Wake up!" "WHAT!?!?" Wally reared up, causing Lem to jump back. Can’t you let a poor Demon sleep? Bad enough you have to drag me out here, then tell me you don’t know how to let me go, but you have to go and throw ping pong paddles at me too? Gimmie my fish! It’s m fish, I’ll eat it if I want to- " He stopped suddenly, realizing what he was saying. "Ah… good morning." He said with finality… then promptly collapsed into slumber again. "Not a morning person, are we?" Lem muttered under his breath. He put on his gloves and began shaking the mold. * * * Lem pushed through another tangle of brambles, loudly cursing all dragons, forests, and demons. "Hey!" came the indignant reply from behind him. "Don’t forget, it’s you fault we’re here in the first place. If you hadn’t gotten lost…" "Well you didn’t exactly speak up either. It looked like a trail!" "Fine. Just don’t blame me. Say, have you thought of a quest yet?" "Catching that dragon doesn’t count, does it?" Lem asked without much hope. "Ah, no." "Fine then. No. I guess I’ll just have to keep looking and hope I think of something." Fate usually leaves it up to people to create their own messes, then sits back and laughs. There are times though, when Fate just can’t resist getting involved and stirring things up a little. Taking a ‘special interest case’ as it were. When someone says something like ‘I’ll just have to hope’ it is like a neon sign for the ever mischievous Fate. Lem had just lit up like Las Vegas. "I’m sooo hungry!" Lem complained. "Well, if you had had some of the sheep I offered you the other night, you wouldn’t be. So stop complaining." "I need real food! Like cheese and beer and stew and bread and…" Lem trailed off, his mouth watering uncontrollably. It was at this point that Fate decided to liven things up. "Hey! Is that what I think it is?" Wally asked, pointing at a cleared area on the other side of the patch of trees and brambles they were currently wading through. "Yeah! I think it is! The road! We’ve found a road!" "I guess it really is true! Deus ex maccina!" "huh?" "Deus ex maccina. It means ‘god from the machine’ or something like that." "Ha. I like that. What was it, Maccina ex deus? OUCH!!" Lem rubbed his head, wondering what had just hit him. He bent over and picked up a gear off the ground. "I belive that would be ‘the machine from god’." Wally said, smirking. "Hmph. Still, we found the road. I can go to an inn and get some real food! …But what am I going to say about you? People don’t exactly see giant piles of mold every day." *** They trudged (or oozed, as the case may be) through the gates to the small town of Hibrom (population: 127 people, 347 cats, and more potatoes than the census taker could count in a lifetime; ask him, he’s still trying.) and began looking for a tavern. Horses, carts, townspeople, and children of all ages milled about in the dusty streets, laughing and talking. (the people talked to each other, the carts talked to themselves, and all the horses were named Ed.) Joining the hubbub, Lem and Wally asked the nearest person for directions. "Hi, Mr. Funny Man and Mr. Slimy Thing!" The young boy grinned and tried once more to make the potato he was holding bounce against the dusty street. It thudded to the ground with, well, a thud. "Do you know where the tavern is?" Lem asked hopefully. Wally didn’t say anything, he was gazing longingly at the child’s half rotten potato. "It’s over there." The boy answered, pointing at a decrepit looking building down the street. "Thanks. Wally!" He kicked the mold. "Get your own!" They headed for the tavern, and were half way there when Lem tripped over something on the ground. Picking it up, he saw that is was a mangled doll. A girl was sitting against the building, crying. "What’s the matter? Is this your doll?" "Ooh! Yes! Thank you! You found Emilie! The girl hugged the battered collection of rags to her chest. She began to talk to it, swinging it around in a circle. "BAD Emilie! You shouldn’t get lost!" She calmly ripped the doll in half and held out the legs. "Here, Mr. Nice Man. Because you found my little Emilie, I’ll give you half!" Lem just stared, and Wally laughed. "Uhm, no thanks." The pair resumed course for the tavern. Food, at last! Fate snickered. It was going to be a looong quest. To be continued (hopefully!) ------------ Please C/C! tell me what was good, bad, or just plain screwed up. More to come soon, but in the mean time, Peace, Love, and Fuzzy Yellow Pomegranates! Go to http://go.to/runthebear for more of my strange ramblings All situations, characters, locations, and typos © 2001 by Sarah Warran. All rights reserved