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Casojin: Swift strike
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In the dark gloom of the hour before sunrise, Indros and a handful of his warriors crept forward expertly in thickly grown woodland. Their footsteps were as quiet as a hunting feline. With darkness enveloping them, they held an element of surprise. His enhanced sense could see far better than any warrior under employment of his great master. They once lived in the vast dungeon of the extinct Ayanila Empire until the great master defeated the arrogant Ayanila and brought those under their oppression into his service. His band of warriors was known as 'Shadowstalkers' because of their stealthy and cunning ability. Years in the almost total darkness of the dungeon had improved their sense keenly. However, they lost ability to live in the light. Thus, they were sent to dwell in the thick woodland east of the master's realm. They could roam freely in this land as long as they protected the master's from any enemy.
It was such a time right now.
Indros' nostril detected a faint smoke clinging in the air. He swung left and right silently, sniffing. Once he was sure, he waved his shadowstalkers to begin surrounding the enemy camp. As Indros got closer, the scent in the air touched his nose again and it told him that his enemy was not human at all. Their smell was of decay and mud. What enemy was that? He wondered.
His question was answered shortly. As he approached their camp in an artificial clearing, he could see large figures resting around a fire pit. Indros counted about two dozens of them. Every single one of them was considerably tall and muscular. Each one had a dark mud stained skin. There were two watchers awaking, carrying a large dirty halberd each. A pair of yellow fangs protruded from the lower jaw. Each one wore segmental metal armor.
Using an owl sound as signal, Indros sent out a signal without the enemy noticing. He unsheathed his curved enchanted blade, dragonblade, from his back and readied it in his left hand. Two men behind him quickly armed themselves. Indros let out his owl voice once again, calling for an ambush. One of his men pulled out a pair of throwing knifes. The blade was coated with frog poison. The first throw hit one of the watchers at the shoulder. Another slammed against the breastplate with a clang. The other once turned, trying to figure out where the attack came and was hit by another pair of knifes from behind. Both knifes sore through the back of its thick unarmored neck. Both watchers fell with a loud thud, thus waking the others in the process.
Indros roared and charged toward the nearest enemy. His men followed courageously. The dragonblade glowed red as it tasted battle. Attacking from several directions combined with element of surprise, the enemy tried to fight back. Indros struck the first one's weapon arm, which burned as the dragonblade sliced. Dropping the weapon, the enemy tried to attack with its other arm. Indros ducked low and plunged his weapon deep into its side. The wailing scream followed but no blood splashed out from the wound. The dragonblade only left a burning flesh and wound. He heard rather than saw one of his warriors was cleaved in two by the massive halberd. Bringing only a handful of men, he had to take out two or three at once. Indros evaded and struck with his powerful weapon as two beasts attacked at the same time. One of his men jumped on the back of an enemy and slammed his sword down through the helmet. Foul crimson blood spurted out like a fountain. Indros slashed a hand of one of his enemy, sending its halberd flying toward the other one, who parried quickly. The shadowstalker chose that short moment to his advantage by striking deep into the thing's groin. It howled in pain and tried to smash him. Indros drove under the beast and plunged the dragonblade hard into the creature's back.
Yet, he had no time to cheer his momentary triumph. He saw an enemy holding Ferro, Indros' close comrade, in its left hand. Ferro was struggling hard but to no avail. The beast seemed to laugh and prepared to kill. Indros threw his blade with maximum speed toward the beast. The enchanted weapon hit the base of the neck with precision. Growling in pain, the beast loosened its grip of Ferro. The shadowstalker took his chance and shook himself loose. Indros smiled as he saw his comrade free.
He almost forgot that the battle was not yet over. With a great roar, another beast came from behind and swung the halberd down. Indros rolled aside and pulled out the poisoned knife. He threw at his attacker but it blocked as if the throwing weapon was a fly to be squished. Indros looked at its face and seemed to notice a difference. It wore a horned helmet unlike others. The beast raised its halberd again and roared madly. Indros somersaulted backward and missed the cleaving stroke by an inch.
Without a weapon, he was defenseless against the beast assault. He could only evade left and right. It was quite faster than the other ones. Suddenly, a shadowy figure jumped on the back of his assailant. He could see with a glimpse that the blade grew red before slamming into the neck joint of the creature. The creature roared in rage before it went down, dead.
Ferro pulled the dragonblade off the dead hulk and handed it back to Indros. The battle was over with a half of his men dead and entire band of enemy slain. He was about to call for victory when he heard a noise. As if a large horde of galloping bulls. He raised his sword and waved his men to gather around him, preparing for the worst. Then the one by one more of the beasts appeared on the clearing edge. With the sun rising, he could no longer use their skill of striking in the dark. Each one of them was a brute like the one they fought. Though not hard to kill, but his warriors were simply overwhelmed.
"Pull back." He ordered. "We'll fight them later with our skill."
Hesitant, his men looked at him. Indros repeated his ordered, but it was too late. The enemy started to enclose them. The hunters were now preys. Indros clenched his teeth and cried for one last time, "For glory and for the master…!!!"
The remained warriors charged.
It was such a time right now.
Indros' nostril detected a faint smoke clinging in the air. He swung left and right silently, sniffing. Once he was sure, he waved his shadowstalkers to begin surrounding the enemy camp. As Indros got closer, the scent in the air touched his nose again and it told him that his enemy was not human at all. Their smell was of decay and mud. What enemy was that? He wondered.
His question was answered shortly. As he approached their camp in an artificial clearing, he could see large figures resting around a fire pit. Indros counted about two dozens of them. Every single one of them was considerably tall and muscular. Each one had a dark mud stained skin. There were two watchers awaking, carrying a large dirty halberd each. A pair of yellow fangs protruded from the lower jaw. Each one wore segmental metal armor.
Using an owl sound as signal, Indros sent out a signal without the enemy noticing. He unsheathed his curved enchanted blade, dragonblade, from his back and readied it in his left hand. Two men behind him quickly armed themselves. Indros let out his owl voice once again, calling for an ambush. One of his men pulled out a pair of throwing knifes. The blade was coated with frog poison. The first throw hit one of the watchers at the shoulder. Another slammed against the breastplate with a clang. The other once turned, trying to figure out where the attack came and was hit by another pair of knifes from behind. Both knifes sore through the back of its thick unarmored neck. Both watchers fell with a loud thud, thus waking the others in the process.
Indros roared and charged toward the nearest enemy. His men followed courageously. The dragonblade glowed red as it tasted battle. Attacking from several directions combined with element of surprise, the enemy tried to fight back. Indros struck the first one's weapon arm, which burned as the dragonblade sliced. Dropping the weapon, the enemy tried to attack with its other arm. Indros ducked low and plunged his weapon deep into its side. The wailing scream followed but no blood splashed out from the wound. The dragonblade only left a burning flesh and wound. He heard rather than saw one of his warriors was cleaved in two by the massive halberd. Bringing only a handful of men, he had to take out two or three at once. Indros evaded and struck with his powerful weapon as two beasts attacked at the same time. One of his men jumped on the back of an enemy and slammed his sword down through the helmet. Foul crimson blood spurted out like a fountain. Indros slashed a hand of one of his enemy, sending its halberd flying toward the other one, who parried quickly. The shadowstalker chose that short moment to his advantage by striking deep into the thing's groin. It howled in pain and tried to smash him. Indros drove under the beast and plunged the dragonblade hard into the creature's back.
Yet, he had no time to cheer his momentary triumph. He saw an enemy holding Ferro, Indros' close comrade, in its left hand. Ferro was struggling hard but to no avail. The beast seemed to laugh and prepared to kill. Indros threw his blade with maximum speed toward the beast. The enchanted weapon hit the base of the neck with precision. Growling in pain, the beast loosened its grip of Ferro. The shadowstalker took his chance and shook himself loose. Indros smiled as he saw his comrade free.
He almost forgot that the battle was not yet over. With a great roar, another beast came from behind and swung the halberd down. Indros rolled aside and pulled out the poisoned knife. He threw at his attacker but it blocked as if the throwing weapon was a fly to be squished. Indros looked at its face and seemed to notice a difference. It wore a horned helmet unlike others. The beast raised its halberd again and roared madly. Indros somersaulted backward and missed the cleaving stroke by an inch.
Without a weapon, he was defenseless against the beast assault. He could only evade left and right. It was quite faster than the other ones. Suddenly, a shadowy figure jumped on the back of his assailant. He could see with a glimpse that the blade grew red before slamming into the neck joint of the creature. The creature roared in rage before it went down, dead.
Ferro pulled the dragonblade off the dead hulk and handed it back to Indros. The battle was over with a half of his men dead and entire band of enemy slain. He was about to call for victory when he heard a noise. As if a large horde of galloping bulls. He raised his sword and waved his men to gather around him, preparing for the worst. Then the one by one more of the beasts appeared on the clearing edge. With the sun rising, he could no longer use their skill of striking in the dark. Each one of them was a brute like the one they fought. Though not hard to kill, but his warriors were simply overwhelmed.
"Pull back." He ordered. "We'll fight them later with our skill."
Hesitant, his men looked at him. Indros repeated his ordered, but it was too late. The enemy started to enclose them. The hunters were now preys. Indros clenched his teeth and cried for one last time, "For glory and for the master…!!!"
The remained warriors charged.
NanSolo: The Machinations of Count Brecht
Quote
Brecht Burg was a keep constructed with the prospect of evil deeds in mind. This was more than just a stone fort, built to intimidate the surrounding countryside: it was a castle built to be besieged and to beat back all opposition, built to have the blood of its enemies run down it's walls, built to stand tall in the storm and watch impassive as its enemies fled.
Built upon the crags of Brecht Berg, a ridge of sharp jagged rocks rising up from the Brecht valley, it was accessible by a lone path that closely hugged the edge of the mountain, winding slowly upwards. The stone of the castle itself was as black and unwelcoming as the stormy night's sky, and as a lightning bolt crackled across the sky manic laughter emerged from the ramparts.
"Have our Guests arrived yet?" Count Brecht von Brechtland ceased his manic laughing to ask his loyal servant, who stood behind his left shoulder.
"Yes sir, I have brought them all to the rumpus room."
"Please Jenkins, can we stop calling it the Rumpus Room?" Count Brecht pleaded. "I have gathered here the most evil minds of the seven Kingdoms, every type of villain and rogue to assist me in embarking on an endeavour most foul, and we gather in the Rumpus Room?"
"It is simply the name of the room sir. You recall it was your father that named every room in this castle, not I," Jenkinss replied.
"Yes, well, from now on we shall it something else, something more villainous."
"How about the Conspiratorial Room then sir?"
"Ja, das Conspiratorialzimmer, very good," Count Brecht decided. There was one more crack of lightning in the background. "Onwards then!"
Lord and servant left the ramparts and descended a spiralling staircase into the depths of the castle. Lit torches led the way and before long Count Brecht swung open a great wooden door and swept his way into the recently renamed Conspiratorial Room. The room was dominated by a large oak table in the shape of an oval, around which sat three distinct groups of people, most of them either sharpening some sort of weapon or practicing their 'evil eye'.
"Guten Abend! Good Evening one and all, most glorious and wicked Lords and Ladies of Evil. Welcome!" Count Brecht shouted as he entered. He stood silent expecting somebody to return his greeting, but no response came. "Right, yes, well, we're all here now, we can begin."
"It better be good," a bald man with a goatee and heavy spiked armour upon which a parrot rested threatened. "I have a great many evil things to do."
"Trust me, I shall not disappoint," Count Brecht countered. "I am sure some of you know each other, by reputation at least. I have asked the greatest reprobate minds of join me here: people such as yourself, Lord Subfusc, greatest terror of the greatest lake."
"Yar!!!!" Lord Subfusc's pirate brethren shouted in agreement with the praise lavished on their leader.
"I have also invited here Queen Cimmerian of the Dark Elves..."
"Racist!" Queen Cimmerian shouted at him in an extremely high pitched voice.
"Excuse me?" Count Brecht asked.
"That's racist that is! We don't like the term Dark Elves. It's racist. You know, just from the start it gives you a bad impression, like we're always doing nasty things. Which we don't, not always anyway. We do nice things too."
"Like cheese making classes," one elf minion suggested.
"And village fêtes," another elf minion added.
"I don't know, I've been along to some pretty evil village fêtes in my time," Lord Subfusc pondered.
"Anyway, we prefer to be called Pigmentally Tenebrous Elves," Queen Cimmerian concluded.
"Okay, Pigmentally Tenebrous Elves it is," Count Brecht clarified himself.
"So who are those guys?" Lord Subfusc gestured to two men sitting at the furthest end of the table.
"Simon and Garfunkel," Count Brecht introduced.
Everyone in the room let out a sudden loud gasp and the next sound was that of scraping chairs being pushed as far away from the duo as the walls of the Rumpus Room allowed.
"So as you can see this castle is now a great centre of the malicious, here combined so that we can defeat a common foe. I'm sure you know of whom I speak," Count Brecht explained.
"Sir Loin!" Lord Subfusc spat out the name and shuddered. There were similar expressions of distaste from all those gathered.
"Yes indeed, Sir Loin, knight of the June Kingdom, defender of the weak, liberator of the oppressed, yada, yada, yada," Count Brecht continued. "A man who has foiled many a great vile plot of these here present, a constant thorn in our sides. Today! Today, ladies and gentlement, we shall create his doom!"
"But how?" Queen Cimmerian asked. "It may not have occurred to you before, but Sir Loin is immune to all conventional weapons."
"It is quite simple then, we shall have to confront him with an unconventional weapon," Count Brecht explained. "And to this purpose I have invited him here. I dare say he should arrive in about three...two...one..."
And just as the countdown should have reached zero the doors to the Rumpus Room shattered into splinters and in strode Sir Loin, knight of the June Kingdom, resplendent in shiny armour, his crimson shield in his left hand and his longsword drawn in the right.
"En garde foes of the light!" Sir Loin declared. "Your abject tyranny is at an end!"
"We'll see about that!" Count Brecht verbally reposted.
"Ding dong!" the sound of loud bells rang out.
"What's that?" Queen Cimmerian asked.
"Ding dong!"
"Errm...it's the door bell, I think," Count Brecht explained, and turned to direct his servant. "Jenkins, go answer that, would you?"
"Immediately sir," Jenkins replied, walking out the now destroyed door of the Rumpus Room. Sir Loin, Count Brecht and everyone else stood around aimlessly waiting for the butler to return.
"Well, this is quite embarrassing," Count Brecht mused, his face turning red. "So, yeah, how about that weather." His attempts to engage in conversation met with a dim reply. Thankfully for Count Brecht Jenkins was quick to return.
"So who is it?" the Count enquired.
"It's your sister, the Lady Brechtina," Jenkins said.
"Whoa, hold on there for a second," Lord Subfusc said, holding up his hands. "Lady Brechtina? And you're name is Count Brecht von Brechtland. And we're in Castle Brecht, on the Brecht mountain? Boy, somebody's family needs to be more original with their names."
"We call her Tina for short..." Count Brecht attempted a meagre defence of his family's toponymy before giving up. "What am I explaning myself to you for? Anyway, what does she want Jenkins?"
"She says she left her jumper here last time she visited and wonders if she could pop in to pick it up," Jenkins the butler explained.
"Sure, but tell her I'm busy here and won't be able to see her."
"Yes sir," Jenkins once again disappeared out the door.
"Right, so where were we?" Count Brecht asked, returning to the situation at hand.
"I believe I was declaring my intent to round up all you scoundrels and put you away for good," Sir Loin said.
"Yes, yes, I remember now. Continue."
Sir Loin bowed to Count Brecht and resumed his speech.
"So what have we here? The King of the Pirates, Lord Subfusc? Queen Cimmerian of the Pigmentally Tenebrific Elves?"
"Tenebrous! It's tenebrous, not tenebrific!" Queen Cimerrian corrected.
"There's a difference?" Sir Loin asked, dumbfounded.
"Tenebrous just means dark or obscure, tenebrific means dark or obscure but also joyless or dreary, and we're not joyless or dreary," one of the elf minions explained.
"Because of the village fêtes?" Count Brecht clarified.
"Exactly," Queen Cimerrian brought the matter to a close.
"Right. Pigmentally tenebrous elves then," Sir Loin corrected himself. "And who are you? I don't think I've come up against you before?" the knight directed himself at the duet at the end of the table, one of which was now beginning to strum a guitar.
"Hi, I'm Paul Simon."
"And I'm Art Garfunkel. We call this song The Sound of Silence."
The guitar began to be played, and the duo began to sing.
"Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence."
"No! Argghhh!! No!!!!" Sir Loin began to scream in agony, falling to the floor his hands trying to cover his ears.
"What's his problem?" Lord Subfusc asked. "I quite like the song."
"Yes, well, we're evil aren't we," Count Brecht explained as he enjoyed the sight of his foe slowly falling into unconsciousness due to the music coming at him from one corner of the room.
"In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence."
When Sir Loin came to he was sitting in a bath tub and attached by a thick chain to the taps.
"Hi, the dungeons being refurbished so we had to lock you up in here," Count Brecht explained. "Sorry."
"No problem, I'm just glad the music's stopped," Sir Loin said.
"I never would of thought of using Simon and Garfunkel as a weapon," Lord Subfusc. "It is quite unconventional. Congratulations!"
"Yes, well, I am an evil genius," Count Brecht said modestly, quite happy at the praise he was receiving from his new partners in crime. Unfortunately the conversation between the two was interrupted by a loud cracking.
"Look out!" Queen Cimerrian shouted. "He's got free!"
And indeed he had.
"My taps!" Count Brecht shouted.
"They weren't exactly fixed on tightly," the now freed Sir Loin said, dangling the chains connected to the set of taps in mid air. "Didn't take much effort to pull them free of the bath tub."
"No problems, we'll just get Simon and Garfunkel up here again to subdue him. Mrs. Robinson should do the trick this time," Count Brecht said.
"I'm afraid that's not possible sir," Jenkins interjected. "They've split up."
"Again?" Count Brecht asked incredulous.
"Yes sir. They're saying that this time, for definite, they'll never perform together again."
"That's not good..." Lord Subfusc said, backing out of the bathroom towards the door. Sir Loin had now somehow gained possession of his longsword and was advancing aggressively towards them.
"Stop him! Somebody stop him!" Queen Cimerrian shouted.
"How? He can't be hurt by conventional weapons!" one of her minions retorted.
"Take that!" Count Brecht shouted. He had picked up the closest item to him and flung it at Sir Loin, hitting him in the head. Unfortunately the item was a yellow rubber duck, which simply bounced off him leaving Sir Loin, if anything, slightly confused.
"Did that hurt? At all?" Count Brecht asked.
"Not really," Sir Loin replied.
"That's strange, I wouldn't have classified a rubber duck as a conventional weapon."
"I wouldn't even class it as a weapon," Sir Loin shrugged, and continued his advance.
"Jenkins, a sword!" Count Brecht screamed.
"But sir, surely it'll be useless against..."
"I asked for a sword Jenkins, not your opinion!" Count Brecht shouted.
"Very well sir," Jenkins said, passing his master a sword.
The fight between the Count and the knight was short, and ended with Brecht lying on his bathroom floor in quite a lot of pain. Sir Loins foot rested on his chest, making sure he couldn't get back up.
"You know that fight was entirely pointless, I can't be hurt..." Sir Loin began.
"Hurt by conventional weapons, yes, I remember," Count Brecht finished for him.
"You really should have followed your late father into the toilet seat business," Sir Loin advised.
"Toilet seats aren't a decent business for an evil genius!" Count Brecht countered. "I guess I'm off the prison now then?"
"Indeed," Sir Loin said. "Now if you wouldn't mind staying there, I've got to go off and chase your evil friends. Will be back in a mo!" And with that Sir Loin bounded out the door swinging his sword to a fro.
"It was a valiant effort sir," Jenkins tried to comfort his master who continued to lay grimacing on the bathroom floor, with neither the energy nor inclination to get up.
"Shut up Jenkins," Count Brecht. After a few moments silence he called his servants name once again. "Jenkins?"
"Yes sir?"
"Remember to pack my toothbrush. And tell Tina the window man's supposed to come round on Tuesday, if she can be here for that."
"I have already done so sir."
"Splendid."
Built upon the crags of Brecht Berg, a ridge of sharp jagged rocks rising up from the Brecht valley, it was accessible by a lone path that closely hugged the edge of the mountain, winding slowly upwards. The stone of the castle itself was as black and unwelcoming as the stormy night's sky, and as a lightning bolt crackled across the sky manic laughter emerged from the ramparts.
"Have our Guests arrived yet?" Count Brecht von Brechtland ceased his manic laughing to ask his loyal servant, who stood behind his left shoulder.
"Yes sir, I have brought them all to the rumpus room."
"Please Jenkins, can we stop calling it the Rumpus Room?" Count Brecht pleaded. "I have gathered here the most evil minds of the seven Kingdoms, every type of villain and rogue to assist me in embarking on an endeavour most foul, and we gather in the Rumpus Room?"
"It is simply the name of the room sir. You recall it was your father that named every room in this castle, not I," Jenkinss replied.
"Yes, well, from now on we shall it something else, something more villainous."
"How about the Conspiratorial Room then sir?"
"Ja, das Conspiratorialzimmer, very good," Count Brecht decided. There was one more crack of lightning in the background. "Onwards then!"
Lord and servant left the ramparts and descended a spiralling staircase into the depths of the castle. Lit torches led the way and before long Count Brecht swung open a great wooden door and swept his way into the recently renamed Conspiratorial Room. The room was dominated by a large oak table in the shape of an oval, around which sat three distinct groups of people, most of them either sharpening some sort of weapon or practicing their 'evil eye'.
"Guten Abend! Good Evening one and all, most glorious and wicked Lords and Ladies of Evil. Welcome!" Count Brecht shouted as he entered. He stood silent expecting somebody to return his greeting, but no response came. "Right, yes, well, we're all here now, we can begin."
"It better be good," a bald man with a goatee and heavy spiked armour upon which a parrot rested threatened. "I have a great many evil things to do."
"Trust me, I shall not disappoint," Count Brecht countered. "I am sure some of you know each other, by reputation at least. I have asked the greatest reprobate minds of join me here: people such as yourself, Lord Subfusc, greatest terror of the greatest lake."
"Yar!!!!" Lord Subfusc's pirate brethren shouted in agreement with the praise lavished on their leader.
"I have also invited here Queen Cimmerian of the Dark Elves..."
"Racist!" Queen Cimmerian shouted at him in an extremely high pitched voice.
"Excuse me?" Count Brecht asked.
"That's racist that is! We don't like the term Dark Elves. It's racist. You know, just from the start it gives you a bad impression, like we're always doing nasty things. Which we don't, not always anyway. We do nice things too."
"Like cheese making classes," one elf minion suggested.
"And village fêtes," another elf minion added.
"I don't know, I've been along to some pretty evil village fêtes in my time," Lord Subfusc pondered.
"Anyway, we prefer to be called Pigmentally Tenebrous Elves," Queen Cimmerian concluded.
"Okay, Pigmentally Tenebrous Elves it is," Count Brecht clarified himself.
"So who are those guys?" Lord Subfusc gestured to two men sitting at the furthest end of the table.
"Simon and Garfunkel," Count Brecht introduced.
Everyone in the room let out a sudden loud gasp and the next sound was that of scraping chairs being pushed as far away from the duo as the walls of the Rumpus Room allowed.
"So as you can see this castle is now a great centre of the malicious, here combined so that we can defeat a common foe. I'm sure you know of whom I speak," Count Brecht explained.
"Sir Loin!" Lord Subfusc spat out the name and shuddered. There were similar expressions of distaste from all those gathered.
"Yes indeed, Sir Loin, knight of the June Kingdom, defender of the weak, liberator of the oppressed, yada, yada, yada," Count Brecht continued. "A man who has foiled many a great vile plot of these here present, a constant thorn in our sides. Today! Today, ladies and gentlement, we shall create his doom!"
"But how?" Queen Cimmerian asked. "It may not have occurred to you before, but Sir Loin is immune to all conventional weapons."
"It is quite simple then, we shall have to confront him with an unconventional weapon," Count Brecht explained. "And to this purpose I have invited him here. I dare say he should arrive in about three...two...one..."
And just as the countdown should have reached zero the doors to the Rumpus Room shattered into splinters and in strode Sir Loin, knight of the June Kingdom, resplendent in shiny armour, his crimson shield in his left hand and his longsword drawn in the right.
"En garde foes of the light!" Sir Loin declared. "Your abject tyranny is at an end!"
"We'll see about that!" Count Brecht verbally reposted.
"Ding dong!" the sound of loud bells rang out.
"What's that?" Queen Cimmerian asked.
"Ding dong!"
"Errm...it's the door bell, I think," Count Brecht explained, and turned to direct his servant. "Jenkins, go answer that, would you?"
"Immediately sir," Jenkins replied, walking out the now destroyed door of the Rumpus Room. Sir Loin, Count Brecht and everyone else stood around aimlessly waiting for the butler to return.
"Well, this is quite embarrassing," Count Brecht mused, his face turning red. "So, yeah, how about that weather." His attempts to engage in conversation met with a dim reply. Thankfully for Count Brecht Jenkins was quick to return.
"So who is it?" the Count enquired.
"It's your sister, the Lady Brechtina," Jenkins said.
"Whoa, hold on there for a second," Lord Subfusc said, holding up his hands. "Lady Brechtina? And you're name is Count Brecht von Brechtland. And we're in Castle Brecht, on the Brecht mountain? Boy, somebody's family needs to be more original with their names."
"We call her Tina for short..." Count Brecht attempted a meagre defence of his family's toponymy before giving up. "What am I explaning myself to you for? Anyway, what does she want Jenkins?"
"She says she left her jumper here last time she visited and wonders if she could pop in to pick it up," Jenkins the butler explained.
"Sure, but tell her I'm busy here and won't be able to see her."
"Yes sir," Jenkins once again disappeared out the door.
"Right, so where were we?" Count Brecht asked, returning to the situation at hand.
"I believe I was declaring my intent to round up all you scoundrels and put you away for good," Sir Loin said.
"Yes, yes, I remember now. Continue."
Sir Loin bowed to Count Brecht and resumed his speech.
"So what have we here? The King of the Pirates, Lord Subfusc? Queen Cimmerian of the Pigmentally Tenebrific Elves?"
"Tenebrous! It's tenebrous, not tenebrific!" Queen Cimerrian corrected.
"There's a difference?" Sir Loin asked, dumbfounded.
"Tenebrous just means dark or obscure, tenebrific means dark or obscure but also joyless or dreary, and we're not joyless or dreary," one of the elf minions explained.
"Because of the village fêtes?" Count Brecht clarified.
"Exactly," Queen Cimerrian brought the matter to a close.
"Right. Pigmentally tenebrous elves then," Sir Loin corrected himself. "And who are you? I don't think I've come up against you before?" the knight directed himself at the duet at the end of the table, one of which was now beginning to strum a guitar.
"Hi, I'm Paul Simon."
"And I'm Art Garfunkel. We call this song The Sound of Silence."
The guitar began to be played, and the duo began to sing.
"Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence."
"No! Argghhh!! No!!!!" Sir Loin began to scream in agony, falling to the floor his hands trying to cover his ears.
"What's his problem?" Lord Subfusc asked. "I quite like the song."
"Yes, well, we're evil aren't we," Count Brecht explained as he enjoyed the sight of his foe slowly falling into unconsciousness due to the music coming at him from one corner of the room.
"In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence."
When Sir Loin came to he was sitting in a bath tub and attached by a thick chain to the taps.
"Hi, the dungeons being refurbished so we had to lock you up in here," Count Brecht explained. "Sorry."
"No problem, I'm just glad the music's stopped," Sir Loin said.
"I never would of thought of using Simon and Garfunkel as a weapon," Lord Subfusc. "It is quite unconventional. Congratulations!"
"Yes, well, I am an evil genius," Count Brecht said modestly, quite happy at the praise he was receiving from his new partners in crime. Unfortunately the conversation between the two was interrupted by a loud cracking.
"Look out!" Queen Cimerrian shouted. "He's got free!"
And indeed he had.
"My taps!" Count Brecht shouted.
"They weren't exactly fixed on tightly," the now freed Sir Loin said, dangling the chains connected to the set of taps in mid air. "Didn't take much effort to pull them free of the bath tub."
"No problems, we'll just get Simon and Garfunkel up here again to subdue him. Mrs. Robinson should do the trick this time," Count Brecht said.
"I'm afraid that's not possible sir," Jenkins interjected. "They've split up."
"Again?" Count Brecht asked incredulous.
"Yes sir. They're saying that this time, for definite, they'll never perform together again."
"That's not good..." Lord Subfusc said, backing out of the bathroom towards the door. Sir Loin had now somehow gained possession of his longsword and was advancing aggressively towards them.
"Stop him! Somebody stop him!" Queen Cimerrian shouted.
"How? He can't be hurt by conventional weapons!" one of her minions retorted.
"Take that!" Count Brecht shouted. He had picked up the closest item to him and flung it at Sir Loin, hitting him in the head. Unfortunately the item was a yellow rubber duck, which simply bounced off him leaving Sir Loin, if anything, slightly confused.
"Did that hurt? At all?" Count Brecht asked.
"Not really," Sir Loin replied.
"That's strange, I wouldn't have classified a rubber duck as a conventional weapon."
"I wouldn't even class it as a weapon," Sir Loin shrugged, and continued his advance.
"Jenkins, a sword!" Count Brecht screamed.
"But sir, surely it'll be useless against..."
"I asked for a sword Jenkins, not your opinion!" Count Brecht shouted.
"Very well sir," Jenkins said, passing his master a sword.
The fight between the Count and the knight was short, and ended with Brecht lying on his bathroom floor in quite a lot of pain. Sir Loins foot rested on his chest, making sure he couldn't get back up.
"You know that fight was entirely pointless, I can't be hurt..." Sir Loin began.
"Hurt by conventional weapons, yes, I remember," Count Brecht finished for him.
"You really should have followed your late father into the toilet seat business," Sir Loin advised.
"Toilet seats aren't a decent business for an evil genius!" Count Brecht countered. "I guess I'm off the prison now then?"
"Indeed," Sir Loin said. "Now if you wouldn't mind staying there, I've got to go off and chase your evil friends. Will be back in a mo!" And with that Sir Loin bounded out the door swinging his sword to a fro.
"It was a valiant effort sir," Jenkins tried to comfort his master who continued to lay grimacing on the bathroom floor, with neither the energy nor inclination to get up.
"Shut up Jenkins," Count Brecht. After a few moments silence he called his servants name once again. "Jenkins?"
"Yes sir?"
"Remember to pack my toothbrush. And tell Tina the window man's supposed to come round on Tuesday, if she can be here for that."
"I have already done so sir."
"Splendid."
Edited by Dauth, 17 October 2008 - 12:22.
