FRAGMENTED (part XII)
Created | Updated Feb 4, 2005
Episode 12: Tight Club
The coach for Marea bounced heavily across Citilian territory.
Arms crossed, Baxter was maintaining balance well while Robin' was rather enjoying the experience.
A short time ago, the road had become rough and uneven, a terrain that stablised the jutting vehicle. Quickly rectifying the situation, the dwarven driver hopped down to repair the loose axel, apologising for the delays in the surface.
During this time, Robin' finally got the opportunity to explain how Apocalypse would arrive in Prosprus. It went like this:
Each symbolising one of the Four Horsemen, an event would take place that brought forth the relevant rider, one after the other.
Therefore the answer was simple - stopping a fragmentation would prevent the fifth. Apocalypse.
However, the problem was also simple - it wasn't known which would arrive first. Robin' was only there to guide, He couldn't intervene. Divine interference. There were laws for that kind of thing [such as the omnipotent Creator Three Creating boulders that It couldn't lift. Doing it in front of philosophers had been asking for it]. The Creators wouldn't do anything until after the world had ended. They had already done that so this was it... and it couldn't happen twice.
None of that seemed to have swayed the coach's only other occupant. Clearly a lawyer. He had more than one edition of the Thick Scroll in his palms to make up a regular sized newspaper. Front to back the paper colour had changed from dark yellow to white... ish.
The briefcase by his left leg indicated that he had groomed enough experience to ignore any conversation on public transport.
"I don't like thish," Baxter moaned. "It'sh becoming an adventure."
Robin' looked at him, "Well yes."
"Well?" squealed Baxter, his face draining... "Exschuse me," he tried to grab the driver's attention by putting his head out of the window, "I want off. I don't even have a--" He stopped and, sliding his head back onto the seat, he stared blankly ahead.
"There are four shrubberiesh on the roadshide," began Baxter slowly, answering Robin's raised eyebrow, "and one of them ish red."
At that moment the dramare-driven vehicle skidded to a halt to the sound of a horn.
"Thtand and deliver!" Shouted a loud but feminine voice. Baxter shuffled away from the window when a face appeared and scanned the interior before pulling back. The lawyer gave a slight glance up before the Thick Scroll became more important again.
A different face came to the window under a green hat with purple feather rising from the back before dropping behind the stranger's neck. The hat was overly big it could have been a seperate entity.
With a slow snap, the door opened. From bottom up the figure began with a brown leather boot and leg in white tight resting on the coach interior for leverage, the presumed matching footwear and leg were inside a large, plush green bush. Where the shrubbery ended, the waist began with a dominating green tunic- A white tighted arm lay on the knee with fingerless leather glove at forearm length.
A mass of neat unnaturally blonde-streaked hair relaxed under the hat while the tiny moustache countered the strange platted beard. The facial hair moved with the smile the mouth as making.
Baxter wasn't concerned about that (although he couldn't trust people who preffered to use more jaw muscles than necessary). It was the large bow and quiver attached to the back that demanded attention.
"Allow me to introduthe mythelf," said the human leek, "I am Ithard Hood." He tipped hat which forced the feather to flop over his face.
"Ishard?" Baxter furrowed his brow saying it.
"No, no," the feather was quickly pushed back like a hair out of place, "Ithard."
"Ithard," Robin' informed Baxter.
Hood held the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "No. ITHard. Two thedth."
Baxter and Robin' exchanged looks.
"Izzard!" Chorused a small group outside the vehicle. From the sound they weren't next to each other. Izzard Hood nodded in acknowledgement. He waited patiently, scanning he two travellers' expressions.
"Well?" Hood clamped his hand on hips.
"'Well' what?" Robin' asked.
Izzard Hood looked slightly worried. "Aren't you going to say 'aren't you?!' then pause in awe?"
"No," replied Robin' bluntly. It was going to take Creator a while to get used to this place.
The man in green was taken aback but regained his composure. He sighed.
"Oh very well." Hood put his hand on heart, "I am Ithard Hood and with me are my highway men.
"Behind me you'll thee Big Johnthon--"
Indeed, at the man's rear was a much larger figure in matching attire (and shrubbery). 'Big' was the one that first put his head in the window. The hard face and thick black moustache that ran down to the sides of the chin were instant reminders.
"--keeping your driver buthy is Will Everidge--" Hood continued. A thump from above suggested that Will had responded.
"--and oppothite my good thelf ith Danny LeRouthe... LeRou... LeRouTH--"
"Danny LeRouge," purred the man at Robin's side window wearing scarlet where lime sat on his companions. He gave the Deity a fingered wave which Robin' gladly tried to recipricate before his arm was forced down by Baxter who explained with a slow shaking of his head. LeRouge snorted lightly.
"Ooh! Hello Mithter Themprini!" cried Hood, noticing the coach's third occupant.
Without looking up, the lawyer reached into his inside pocket and one swift but gentle throw allowed Hood to catch it single-handed.
"Grathiouth ath alwayth Mithter Eth."
"Hang on, I think I have heard of you," realised Baxter. Hood stood back and opened his arms.
"Yeah..." began Baxter, using his finger to remember a beat, "that shong!
"Ishard Hood, Ishard Hood, riding over glen. Known quite good, Shthrough nei'bourhood, for his taste in-- urk!"
He shut up, namely because an arrow pointed at his neck insisted.
"Don't. Thing. That. Thong," growled Hood, left eyebrow twitching. Baxter nodded, his adam's apple encouragingly close to the arrow head preventing a proper head movement. "Honethtly! The athumpthions people make! Ith it really impothible to believe a man can be thmartly drethed, thofithticated and overly charming without having thethe... thethe rumourth?! Oh you never listen to the Marion sthorieh do you? Noooo..."
"Isn't Marion a girl's name?" asked Johnson.
"Yeth!!!"
"I'm confused..."
In Baxter's head his desire to make a sarcastic comment was going into overload.
"Didn't Marion wear metal pants?" LeRouge asked, finger on chin.
"That'th not the point!" The bow lowered. "There wath a key!"
"Who had the key?" LeRouge said.
Hood pondered. "The Theriff."
"Ahhhh...." LeRouge nodded his head in understanding.
"No!" exclaimed Hood. "No 'Ahhhhh'!"
Baxter rolled his eyes. This would be easy...
"Look! A large noshed shongshtressh!" Baxter yelled pointing away.
Hood looked at him. "Eh?"
Bloody lishp, Baxter thought and winced.
"Look! A big noshed... nngh.. Shinger."
The bandits looked around...
"Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!" Baxter yelled and the dracmares reared sending Everidge cannonballing into LeRouge. The dwarf driver took advantage and the steeds stampeded across the ground.
Baxter quickly reached and behind four figures in the dust: two down, one bemused and the forth quite literally hopping mad.
Baxter turned to Robin', bouncing the money pouch in his hand with possible signs of a satisfied smirk.
"You've got problems, you know that?" said Robin'.
"What?" Baxter looked innocent. "Hish voishe wash annoying me!"
The coach for Marea bounced heavily across Citilian territory.
Arms crossed, Baxter was maintaining balance well while Robin' was rather enjoying the experience.
A short time ago, the road had become rough and uneven, a terrain that stablised the jutting vehicle. Quickly rectifying the situation, the dwarven driver hopped down to repair the loose axel, apologising for the delays in the surface.
During this time, Robin' finally got the opportunity to explain how Apocalypse would arrive in Prosprus. It went like this:
Each symbolising one of the Four Horsemen, an event would take place that brought forth the relevant rider, one after the other.
Therefore the answer was simple - stopping a fragmentation would prevent the fifth. Apocalypse.
However, the problem was also simple - it wasn't known which would arrive first. Robin' was only there to guide, He couldn't intervene. Divine interference. There were laws for that kind of thing [such as the omnipotent Creator Three Creating boulders that It couldn't lift. Doing it in front of philosophers had been asking for it]. The Creators wouldn't do anything until after the world had ended. They had already done that so this was it... and it couldn't happen twice.
None of that seemed to have swayed the coach's only other occupant. Clearly a lawyer. He had more than one edition of the Thick Scroll in his palms to make up a regular sized newspaper. Front to back the paper colour had changed from dark yellow to white... ish.
The briefcase by his left leg indicated that he had groomed enough experience to ignore any conversation on public transport.
"I don't like thish," Baxter moaned. "It'sh becoming an adventure."
Robin' looked at him, "Well yes."
"Well?" squealed Baxter, his face draining... "Exschuse me," he tried to grab the driver's attention by putting his head out of the window, "I want off. I don't even have a--" He stopped and, sliding his head back onto the seat, he stared blankly ahead.
"There are four shrubberiesh on the roadshide," began Baxter slowly, answering Robin's raised eyebrow, "and one of them ish red."
At that moment the dramare-driven vehicle skidded to a halt to the sound of a horn.
"Thtand and deliver!" Shouted a loud but feminine voice. Baxter shuffled away from the window when a face appeared and scanned the interior before pulling back. The lawyer gave a slight glance up before the Thick Scroll became more important again.
A different face came to the window under a green hat with purple feather rising from the back before dropping behind the stranger's neck. The hat was overly big it could have been a seperate entity.
With a slow snap, the door opened. From bottom up the figure began with a brown leather boot and leg in white tight resting on the coach interior for leverage, the presumed matching footwear and leg were inside a large, plush green bush. Where the shrubbery ended, the waist began with a dominating green tunic- A white tighted arm lay on the knee with fingerless leather glove at forearm length.
A mass of neat unnaturally blonde-streaked hair relaxed under the hat while the tiny moustache countered the strange platted beard. The facial hair moved with the smile the mouth as making.
Baxter wasn't concerned about that (although he couldn't trust people who preffered to use more jaw muscles than necessary). It was the large bow and quiver attached to the back that demanded attention.
"Allow me to introduthe mythelf," said the human leek, "I am Ithard Hood." He tipped hat which forced the feather to flop over his face.
"Ishard?" Baxter furrowed his brow saying it.
"No, no," the feather was quickly pushed back like a hair out of place, "Ithard."
"Ithard," Robin' informed Baxter.
Hood held the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "No. ITHard. Two thedth."
Baxter and Robin' exchanged looks.
"Izzard!" Chorused a small group outside the vehicle. From the sound they weren't next to each other. Izzard Hood nodded in acknowledgement. He waited patiently, scanning he two travellers' expressions.
"Well?" Hood clamped his hand on hips.
"'Well' what?" Robin' asked.
Izzard Hood looked slightly worried. "Aren't you going to say 'aren't you?!' then pause in awe?"
"No," replied Robin' bluntly. It was going to take Creator a while to get used to this place.
The man in green was taken aback but regained his composure. He sighed.
"Oh very well." Hood put his hand on heart, "I am Ithard Hood and with me are my highway men.
"Behind me you'll thee Big Johnthon--"
Indeed, at the man's rear was a much larger figure in matching attire (and shrubbery). 'Big' was the one that first put his head in the window. The hard face and thick black moustache that ran down to the sides of the chin were instant reminders.
"--keeping your driver buthy is Will Everidge--" Hood continued. A thump from above suggested that Will had responded.
"--and oppothite my good thelf ith Danny LeRouthe... LeRou... LeRouTH--"
"Danny LeRouge," purred the man at Robin's side window wearing scarlet where lime sat on his companions. He gave the Deity a fingered wave which Robin' gladly tried to recipricate before his arm was forced down by Baxter who explained with a slow shaking of his head. LeRouge snorted lightly.
"Ooh! Hello Mithter Themprini!" cried Hood, noticing the coach's third occupant.
Without looking up, the lawyer reached into his inside pocket and one swift but gentle throw allowed Hood to catch it single-handed.
"Grathiouth ath alwayth Mithter Eth."
"Hang on, I think I have heard of you," realised Baxter. Hood stood back and opened his arms.
"Yeah..." began Baxter, using his finger to remember a beat, "that shong!
"Ishard Hood, Ishard Hood, riding over glen. Known quite good, Shthrough nei'bourhood, for his taste in-- urk!"
He shut up, namely because an arrow pointed at his neck insisted.
"Don't. Thing. That. Thong," growled Hood, left eyebrow twitching. Baxter nodded, his adam's apple encouragingly close to the arrow head preventing a proper head movement. "Honethtly! The athumpthions people make! Ith it really impothible to believe a man can be thmartly drethed, thofithticated and overly charming without having thethe... thethe rumourth?! Oh you never listen to the Marion sthorieh do you? Noooo..."
"Isn't Marion a girl's name?" asked Johnson.
"Yeth!!!"
"I'm confused..."
In Baxter's head his desire to make a sarcastic comment was going into overload.
"Didn't Marion wear metal pants?" LeRouge asked, finger on chin.
"That'th not the point!" The bow lowered. "There wath a key!"
"Who had the key?" LeRouge said.
Hood pondered. "The Theriff."
"Ahhhh...." LeRouge nodded his head in understanding.
"No!" exclaimed Hood. "No 'Ahhhhh'!"
Baxter rolled his eyes. This would be easy...
"Look! A large noshed shongshtressh!" Baxter yelled pointing away.
Hood looked at him. "Eh?"
Bloody lishp, Baxter thought and winced.
"Look! A big noshed... nngh.. Shinger."
The bandits looked around...
"Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!" Baxter yelled and the dracmares reared sending Everidge cannonballing into LeRouge. The dwarf driver took advantage and the steeds stampeded across the ground.
Baxter quickly reached and behind four figures in the dust: two down, one bemused and the forth quite literally hopping mad.
Baxter turned to Robin', bouncing the money pouch in his hand with possible signs of a satisfied smirk.
"You've got problems, you know that?" said Robin'.
"What?" Baxter looked innocent. "Hish voishe wash annoying me!"
