THEN A PENGUIN WALKED IN #15

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The following comes from Then A Penguin Walked In and Other Tall Tales, currently on sale digitally and in paperback.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE FINAL EPILOGUE

IN NORTHERN GUND, JUST a few thousand miles south from the most northern point, sat Mount Vent. Not an impressive mountain in most regards, some may even call it the smallest mountain in all of Gund. It was not, in fact, the smallest mountain in all of Gund. That award went to Mount Lombert near the western border of Klont in the southern jungles of Nembly. Mount Lombert was barely even a mountain in the strictest possible sense. Most locals referred to Mount Lombert as ‘the Big Hill’. 

Near the top of Mount vent, in a cave lined with moss, there lived a hermit. This hermit was named Baffer.

Baffer may have been human, or possibly a dwarf. Or, based on the amount of body hair, an extremely small troll. It’s hard to say, really. He was short, but not too short, and, as mentioned previously, covered in thick, course, hair. He wasn’t a dirty hermit. He didn’t live in filth. He was actually quite tidy, despite living in a cave lined with moss.

The moss he had placed there himself. Covering every inch of the stone walls and ceilings methodically each night. Using his own spit to attach the clumps of plant to the rock. The moss really did the trick when it came to keeping out the cold, something one encounters frequently this far north when living in a cave on the side of a mountain.

The problem with moss is that once you’ve picked it and attached it to rock using your own spit, it tended to die and then lose most of what made it a great insulator in the first place. That is unless you wanted your cave to be cool and damp, which would defeat the purpose of putting up the moss to begin with. This meant that one would always have to be gathering moss and then reattaching it to their cave walls.

Fortunately for Baffer, gathering moss was one of his most favorite pastimes. Second only to writing poetry.

Baffer’s poetry was famous throughout Gund, a fact he himself was quite unaware of. He did not write for fame. He wrote because it made him feel good. But, feeling good didn’t pay the bills.

Fortunately for Baffer, he had no bills to pay, one of the few benefits of being a hermit. That and the nudity. But bills or no, Baffer still had to eat, and when you spend your days gathering moss or writing poetry, it leaves little room for hunting. So, once a week Baffer would get dressed and travel down the mountain to the city of Darliksford. There he would hand off his newly written poetry to his agent for a basket of eggs, a bag of meat, more paper, and a bundle of pencils.

His agent would then turn around and publish them across all of Gund, which, consequently, made the man quite rich. In fact, Baffer’s agent had become so fabulously wealthy that he now owns Mount Vent. The agent, whose name, by the way, was Birp, had been toying with the idea of changing the name of Baffer’s mountain from Mount Vent to Mount Birp.

Today, a day Baffer will always remember as one of his least productive moss gathering days, the hermit took a short break to jot down an idea or two he’d had for a new poem. He’d already had a title in mind:

THE DAY I WENT LOOKING FOR MOSS BUT INSTEAD FOUND LOVE, ONLY SHE TURNED OUT TO BE A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION AND SO I WAS VERY SAD FOR QUITE A LONG PERIOD OF TIME.

And so Baffer, sitting on the small boulder out in front of his moss-lined cave, began to write.

What Baffer didn’t know, however, was that he wasn’t writing poetry at all. Baffer was a prophet, and when he sat down to write, what he wrote was prophecy. He wasn’t aware of this because Baffer couldn’t read. He only knew that when he bent over his crisp, white paper, pencil in hand, the words would flow out of him. He just didn’t know what the words were.

When he’d made his first trek down the mountain, papers in hand, he’d met Mr. Birp in a tavern. He’d shown Birp the papers, insisting that they were his poetry. Birp, ever the shrewd businessman, recognized them right away for what they were. 

Prophecy.

Prophetic writings were veritable cash cows in Gund. So Birp, what with his shrewdness and all, kept up the charade that what Baffer had brought to him was poetry and a deal was struck.

And so, as Baffer wrote, he thought of the day he’d gone out to collect moss and found instead a woman bathing in the icy stream just down the mountain. She had said her name was Gertrundle and Baffer had found her to be most captivating. The most beautiful creature in the world. He recalled the conversation they had had down there by the icy stream and the way she kept touching his arm. He remembered taking her back to see his cave and her delight at seeing the wonderful way he had used the moss. He also recalled the hole that that opened in his heart when he finally realized that Gertrundle did not actually exist.

All of this coursed through his mind. What he put on the paper, however, was quite different.

Phrases like ‘great stirrings in the north,’ and ‘the Beard That Walks has a heart for conquest’; as well as ‘the One must face the Beard That Walks on the field of battle’ permeated the page. Even ‘blood, devastation, death, war, and horror,’ made an appearance. But for Baffer, they were his innermost thoughts and feelings.

He wrote on into the night. He could no longer even see the page, but no matter, the words were all put in their proper place.

When he finished, he had more than twenty pages full of writing before him, front and back. He took the pages, rolled them up, tied them with a bit of twine he pulled from deep within his beard, and tucked it away in a dry corner of the cave. 

He looked up at the stars and moon and judged there to be about two more hours of darkness left before the night was over. Rather than spend that time sleeping, Baffer stoked the fire and scrambled up some eggs. He’d need a hearty breakfast of he were to journey down the mountain to sell his latest poem.

The End

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THEN A PENGUIN WALKED IN #14

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The following comes from Then A Penguin Walked In and Other Tall Tales, currently on sale digitally and in paperback.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE SECOND EPILOGUE

FRANK FINKLETON HAD BEEN working at the Happy Hamburger for over thirty-six years. 

He’d started with the company as a fry cook when he was still just a freshman in high school. He’d had little ambition and no friends back then. He’d known at the time that college was nothing more than a pipe dream. His parents had no money, and he’d never cared enough about school to pull down anything better than a C minus.

But the Happy Hamburger had changed all that.

Young Frank had found something at the Happy Hamburger that he’d never been able to find in school: A sense of belonging and even a friend or two.

Thirty-six years later and nothing had changed. He’d worked hard for the company. He’d been loyal. And in return the company had repaid him in kind. It took him almost twenty-five years before he’d been given his own store, and he’d worked hard to make it one of the top stores in the nation. He did that by hiring the best people. 

One of those people had been Dominick Hanrahan.

Frank had seen a lot of himself in Hanrahan. And when he’d hired the young man he’d had high hopes for his future with the company.

But for the last year or so Frank had noticed an unhappiness in the young man. Maybe ‘unhappy’ wasn’t the right word. It was more like a depressed acceptance. Like Hanrahan had accepted that his life, his future, was with the Happy Hamburger, and he wasn’t all that happy with the idea.

He hadn’t been putting much into his job over the last year, not like he used to. It was as if he was just going through the motions. Waiting for death. It was all very sad and Frank had been meaning to have a talk with the boy for some time now.

But then today happened.

The morning with Dominick had begun like any other. The boy had swept in through the back door and clocked in just as his shift had begun. He’d worked his way robotically through the various prep jobs to ready everything for breakfast. He did it all with little fuss and even less joy. Not that there was a lot of joy to be had in a job like this, Frank knew that, but there used to be a time when Dominick was happy just to be doing something with his life.

Then, a few hours ago, young Mr. Hanrahan had gone down to the basement to get some fry boxes. It had taken him a while and Frank had been thinking of going after the boy. But eventually he’d returned with the fry boxes in tow. But the Dominick that had returned from downstairs had seemed like a whole new man.

Frank had noticed him smiling a lot more. Dominick attacked his work with a zeal that hadn’t been there in a great long time. He was like a completely different person. And even when he’d asked Dominick to stay and work an extra four hours, though the boy had complained, Frank could sense that his heart hadn’t been in it. Like he’d wanted nothing more than to work those extra four hours, but had to put up a show of fighting back because that’s what he was ‘supposed’ to do.

Frank sat at a small desk in the front of the restaurant. As the Happy Hamburger was a drive in, there was nowhere inside for customers to sit and eat, it was all done out in their car. Because of this, the interior was all business and Frank was allowed to have his desk right up front so that he could see most of what was going on inside, and out, from where he sat.

As Frank sat and worked on the schedule for the next two weeks, he thought about this change he’d seen in Dominick today. For a moment, he looked over and watched the boy work. The lunch rush was over and Dominick was cleaning the fryers. That meant taking one fryer at a time, shutting it down, draining all the oil into a metal box on wheels, wheeling the box out to the grease trap outside to dump, scrubbing the inside of the scorching hot fryer with steel wool, then dumping a cube of solidified grease into the top of the fryer and watching it melt. Dominick had already cleaned two out of the three fryers and was draining the last. He whistled as he waited for the fryer to drain. Actually whistled.

Then, fryer drained, he wheeled the box out the back door.

Frank shook his head and smiled. He didn’t know what had come over the boy, but he liked it. He might still have his talk with Dominick, but instead may discuss the idea of promotion with the young man. He bent back to the schedules and was soon lost in thought when he noticed someone out of his peripheries standing at his desk.

“Hm?” he said without looking up.

“I need to talk to you about something, Mr. Finkleton,” It was young Hanrahan.

“Sure, Dominick,” Frank replied. “What’s up?”

Frank tore himself away from the schedule, looked up at Dominick, and gasped.

This was not the young man that had just walked out the back door with a loaded down grease bucket. Not unless he’d been accosted by a traveling Renaissance Fair.

The Dominick Hanrahan that stood at his desk wore leather pants and chain mail. He even had a sword strapped to his back. But the boy’s eyes, they were what made him gasp. It was if they’d seen everything there was to see in the world. They were serious eyes, and frankly, they were a little frightening.

“Dominick?” Frank said, standing. “What’s all this? You were just in uniform a few minutes ago.”

“I have to talk to you about something, sir,” Dominick said.

It was the sir that got him. Dominick had never called him ‘sir’. The title caused Frank to really take notice.

“Okay, Dominick. What do you have to tell me?”

“I regret to inform you that I am tendering my resignation as of today,” Dominick said. “I’m sorry, but I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Um,” Frank said. “Okay.”

“It was a pleasure working with you, Mr. Finkleton,” said Dominick, holding out his hand.

Frank took it and they shook. “You too, Dominick.” The reply was automatic. A polite auto-response as his mind did its best to make sense out of all this. Though nothing was going to fall in place with a quickness, Frank was aware of his short comings, he was able to wrap his mind around it all just enough to ask: “You sure about this?”

“Very sure,” Dominick said. “But I have to go.”

And without another word, the boy—no, man—turned and left the Happy Hamburger.

Frank Finkleton remained standing for a full three minutes, his eyes glued to the back door. He almost expected Dominick to walk back in wearing his Happy Hamburger uniform and whistling as he pulled the grease bucket along with him.

But Dominick didn’t.

Frank turned to Melissa, the cook, who only shrugged her shoulders at him. He shrugged his right back, sat down at the desk, and got back to the schedules, realizing that he’d have to do them over again to find coverage for Dominick’s shift.

To be continued...

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THEN A PENGUIN WALKED IN #13

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The following comes from Then A Penguin Walked In and Other Tall Tales, currently on sale digitally and in paperback.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE FIRST EPILOGUE

TWO DAYS LATER DOMINICK walked into a small, private room in the hospital wing of the palace.

The room was on the third floor and a large window stood open on the back wall, letting in the sun and the freshness of the morning. While he couldn’t see out of the window from where he stood in the doorway, he could hear the revelers still busy with their merry making down in the courtyard below.

The hospital room was sparsely furnished with only a tiny bed on a tall stand sitting under the open window, and a regular sized chair to the left of the bed.

Sitting up in the pixie-sized bed, reading a book and taking advantage of the sunshine and cool breeze, Dominick found Vivian.

He knocked softly on the edge of the doorway and she looked up from over the top of her book. She smiled.

“Dominick Hanrahan, savior of Gund, comes to see me at last,” she said.

“They wouldn’t let me in to see you till now,” Dominick said, entering the room. “Apparently being the One doesn’t account for much as far as the palace physician is concerned.”

Vivian smiled again.

“So,” Dominick coughed uncomfortably. “How are you?”

“I will live,” she said. “The nurse told me what you did. How you used the sword to drive Kraxull off of me. You saved my life.”

“Well,” Dominick said, heat rising into his face. “That’s the kind of thing I’m supposed to do, right?”

“Yes,” She said. “I suppose it is. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say thank you.”

He felt the heat in his face build to new heights.

“What choice did I have?” He said. “You’re the only real friend I have here. You and Harold.”

“How is Harold?” Vivian looked more than a little concerned. “He was still unconscious out there when they took me away and they won’t tell me anything in here.”

“He’s fine,” Dominick said. “He was out for a while. Just came round last night. We’ll have to keep an eye on him for a couple of days.”

“We?” Vivian cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean that you are staying?”

“I don’t know,” Dominick said, sitting. “I’ve been thinking about that for the last couple of days. I mean, I do have somewhat of a life back home. Sure, it’s lonely and, well, that’s it. But all my stuff is back there, like my apartment and my car.”

“I hear the Queen has offered you a room here in the palace.”

“Room?” Dominick laughed. “More like a wing. And she told me that I wouldn’t need to worry about anything for as long as I stay. Food, money, anything.”

“You are the One, after all.”

“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, that’s reason enough to stay, I suppose. But,” he let it just hang there.

“But?”

“Well, it’s just,” he sighed. “There’s stuff from my world that I’m gonna miss.”

“Such as?”

“Comics, TV, movies, video games, technology. I actually enjoy spending the evening at home, alone, with nothing to do but read through a stack of new comics. And going to the shop every Wednesday to pick them up. The Comic Bank is like my second home. I’ll miss that.”

“The Comic Bank?”

“Yeah, it used to be a bank, but was sold and turned into a comic shop. It’s the best.”

“You don’t have to give these things up, Dominick,” Vivian said. “You have the ring. You can visit your world anytime you want.”

“Yeah, but you said time doesn’t work the same, that it moved faster here. An afternoon at the comic shop could be like a week here, or more, right?”

“Something like that, sure.”

“It just all sounds so complicated,” he deflated a little in the chair.

“In the end, Dominick, you have to ask yourself what kind of person do you want to be? One who lives with purpose or without? You have purpose here, Dominick.”

“What purpose? Hob’s no longer a threat.”

“There will always be threats,” Vivian said. “Your purpose in this world is to defend Haven from those threats. What would be your purpose back home?”

That, Dominick had to admit, was a question for which he did not have an answer. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he did know the answer after all.

He knew what he had to do, he just wasn’t ready to do it.

Instead he rose from the chair and walked over to the window. He looked out at Haven, at Gund. He breathed in the clean air. He watched the general merriment going on below him. 

“Such a serious face, Dominick,” said Vivian. “You don’t have to rush into a decision just yet, you know.”

“I know,” said Dominick, sighing. “I was just thinking about Hob.”

“The less thought about him, the better,” Vivian said. “Though, I have to admit I was more than surprised when I learned that you left him alive.”

“It seemed like the right thing to do,” Dominick said. “I went with my gut.”

“It has often been my experience that the gut is almost never wrong,” said Vivian.

“It all just seemed so fast,” Dominick said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he sighed. “I’ve read countless fantasy novels, and there’s always so much more to it.”

“Fantasy novels?” 

“Books,” Dominick said. “Swords and sorcery. Dragons and elves and stuff. People in my world have been writing about places like Gund for a great long time.”

“I’d like to read some of these books,” Vivian said.

“OK, sure. It’s just that. Well, there’s always a journey. I mean, these are epic, sweeping stories that take the reader from one corner of the world to the other.”

“And?” Asked Vivian. “They sound exciting.”

“They are,” Dominick said. “But here I am, I’m living one of these stories and it was mostly a blur.”

“Life moves fast,” Vivian said.

“Sure,” Dominick said. “I get that. I guess there was a part of me, that small part that wasn’t peeing his pants that was hoping for a little more to the story.”

Vivian laughed.

“Your story isn’t complete, Dominick. All that matters is where you want to be when your tale is told. Back in your old life? Or here where you are needed?”

Dominick continued to look out the window. A man danced to a tune played by a quartet of musicians. He had a small boy perched on his shoulder. They both laughed.

“So what will you do, Dominick Hanrahan?” Vivian asked.

Dominick figured he knew.

To be continued...

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JUST ANOTHER FANBOY EPISODE 313

This week we change gears and talk about the 1988 Fantasy novel: The Crystal Shard by R.A. Salvatore, a book I first read over 30 years ago.

Did I enjoy it?

Does it hold up?

What the heck are the Forgotten Realms?

Well, you'll have to listen to find out.

The audio in which we hear a man properly pronounce the name of the dragon, Ingeloakastimizilian, comes from Chapter 21 of the audio book as read by Russell Johnson, which can be found on YouTube - https://youtu.be/rZOY3k0vCGk

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Tweet, retweet, share on Facebook and Instagram, and just generally get out there on social media to tell the word about this show.

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JUST ANOTHER FANBOY 302

Powered by RedCircle

In which I talk about just a few of my favorite comics that I read in 2022:

The Best "Fun" Series of 2022

The Best Series I Read in 2022 That Wasn't Published in 2022

Best Overall Series of 2022

So yes, a Best of the Year episode before the year ends, which is normally something I am against. But, well... I address it.

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>>DOWNLOAD THE EPISODE HERE<<

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Email - justanotherfanboy@gmail.com

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Just Another Fanboy Forums - forum.justanotherfanboy.com

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SUPPORT:

The Patreon - patreon.com/steevenrorr

Buy me a Ko-Fi - ko-fi.com/steevenrorr

The Option That Won't Cost You A Dime: Spread the word. Tell a friend, tell two friends, tell your father, mother, sister, brother, neighbor, coworker, plumber, or even the person who cuts your hair.

Tweet, retweet, share on Facebook and Instagram, and just generally get out there on social media to tell the word about this show.

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Thank you for spending time with me today!

THEN A PENGUIN WALKED IN #12

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The following comes from Then A Penguin Walked In and Other Tall Tales, currently on sale digitally and in paperback.

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CHAPTER TWELVE: THE DRAGON SLAYER

DOMINICK HAD VERY NEARLY blacked out.

He had pulled himself up from off the ground and was brushing the dirt and grass from his clothes when he noticed the great white dragon bearing down on him like a blood thirsty freight train, dirt churning under its razor claws.

“We got this,” Vivian said as she and Harold glided up between Dominick and Kraxull.

The two pixies were suddenly surrounded by a bright light, and in a flash, they were transformed into a pair of green dragons, though they were half the size of the great Kraxull. The two were much faster, however, and before the white dragon could reach him, the two greens slammed into it from both sides, driving it into the air and back down again.

The impact of the three dragons as they struck the earth could be felt from under Dominick’s feet. He drew Arakis to the obligatory peal of thunder but found he couldn’t get around the three dragons as they rolled and fought, clinging to each other by teeth and claws.

Being as close as he was to a dragon fight, a situation that had never occurred to him as being even remotely possible, Dominick found that he wasn’t afraid. He should be, he knew that. The fact that he wasn’t soiling his pants felt a bit odd but having Arakis in hand dampened the fear. The comfort brought about by the sword pushed the fear somewhere deep inside. He was sure that sometime later, maybe the next time he found himself on a therapist’s couch, the terror would make its way back to the surface. But for now, it was buried under a feeling of invulnerability.

“What should we do, Sacred One?” Uto asked, sword in hand. 

“There’s nothing we can do for now but enjoy the show,” Dominick said. “But watch my back. I’d hate for someone to come sneaking up behind us and stick an arrow in me or something.”

“Your back is secure, Sacred One,” Uto said. “Fear not at that front.”

“Back,” Dominick said.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

The dragon fight continued with much roaring, biting, tearing of claws, screaming, and rending of earth. The soldiers stationed to the rear of Hob’s army couldn’t help but notice the destructive commotion going on behind them and they turned to watch the show.

Kraxull, the Great White Dragon of Skelldom was a fierce beast, but the two pixie dragons gave as good as they got, proving to Dominick once and for all that pixie magic was not to be taken lightly. The combatants, it appeared, were evenly matched. Neither side showing any distinct advantage. That was until Kraxull, with a mighty roar, managed to push both of the green dragons off of him, throwing them back with such force that the two were momentarily dazed. Hob’s army cheered.

Taking advantage, Kraxull was on one of the greens in an instant and pushed it back to the ground. Dominick didn’t know which of the two pixies the dragon had beneath, both looked fairly identical, but suddenly it had the green’s neck in its massive jaws.

The other green shot forward but Kraxull was too fast and with a mighty swipe of its tail, drove the other green into the ground. The small dragon didn’t get up.

Dominick took an involuntary step forward, his heart climbing into his throat.

“Don’t!” Dominick shouted.

But Kraxull ignored him as it bit down on the green dragon’s throat, the transformed pixie struggling beneath it.

Dominick’s veins turned to ice, and he grew numb all over.

“No!” he screamed and pointed Arakis at the sky. 

He wasn’t sure why he’d done it, brandishing the sword over his head, but instinct had taken over.

Lightning fell, striking the blade of the sword once, twice, three times. Each strike accompanied by a clap of thunder. The blade crackled and hissed as Dominick pointed it at Kraxull.

Lighting shot forth from the blade and slammed into the body of the white dragon. Three successive bolts that drove the creature back from atop the struggling green until Kraxull fell, smoking and unmoving.

Everything grew quiet. Even the fighting on the front lines had stopped. Dominick approached the still form of the white dragon, ignoring Lord Hob who stood off to one side, frozen with shock. The dragon continued to smoke where the lighting had struck its thick hide. Dominick nudged at the dragon with his foot. It remained as still as the dead. Dominick stepped closer, looking into the face of the mighty beast.

Kraxull opened its eyes.

Dominick tried to lift the sword, but the creature was too fast. It slashed at Dominick with one huge claw, tearing at his stomach and pants as it swiped the sword from his hand with its tail. Dominick fell back and the dragon was on him, pressing him into the bloodied ground with one massive, clawed hand.

“Lightning, human?” Kraxull said. Its voice was deep and clawed at his skull. “It was a good try, but it was not enough.”

Dominick struggled beneath the thing, flailing about with his hands as he tried to locate Arakis.

“Give me another chance,” said Dominick tightly. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

“Ah,” Kraxull said. “You must think I’m stupid.”

“Well,” Dominick didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ve not lived as long as I have by giving an enemy another opportunity to attack,” the dragon said. “You kill your enemies first, and you do it fast. No hesitation. That’s how you win.”

“Good advice,” Dominick said. His right hand had found something, but it wasn’t the sword. It was the saltshaker. It must have fallen from his pocket with the slash of the dragon’s claws. “I wish you would have said something earlier. I’d have done things a little differently.”

Dominick had a plan. It was a stupid plan and one he knew would probably fail, but it was all he had. He picked up the saltshaker and held it upside down in the palm of his hand, shaking it so that his hand filled with salt.

“Tell me,” Kraxull said. “How does it feel to die knowing that you have failed in the one task you were destined to complete?”

“I can’t answer that,” Dominick said. “Because I’m not going to die.”

The dragon laughed. 

“You are an overconfident little person, aren’t you,” Kraxull said.

“Not really. But it’s like you said. I was destined to do that one task.”

“And you will die knowing you failed.”

“Nothing can stop destiny, not even a glorified lizard like you.”

Kraxull’s head snaked in so that the two were face to face, the dragon so close that Dominick could feel its hot breath against his skin.

“You will show me respect, human,” the dragon said, pushing Dominick further into the dirt.

Dominick didn’t respond, instead he threw his handful of salt directly into one of Kraxull’s great eyes.

The dragon roared and reared back, falling back onto its haunches as it covered its eye with one hand, looking for all the world like a petulant child.

Dominick rolled, snatched up Arakis, and pulled himself to his feet.

“That hurt, you jerk!” Kraxull called out. “What was that?”

“Salt,” Dominick said.

“Salt? What would you do that?”

“What? You were gonna kill me.”

“Sure, but fair and square, not with trickery. That’s cheating.”

“Cheating?” Dominick laughed. “Am I really having this conversation?”

“You’re a jerk, human,” Kraxull said, still rubbing at its eye. “This really stings. I need to go find a pond or a lake or something.”

With that, the dragon flew off, leaving a stunned Dominick behind.

“You drove Kraxull away,” Hob said, sounding just as confused as Dominick. “The Great White Dragon of Skelldom. I’ve seen that dragon destroy entire towns and you drive it away with a handful of salt.”

“I’ll admit, it was a gamble. But hey, it worked. Now,” Dominick lifted Arakis once again and fed it a four-course meal of lighting. He pointed the blade at the Dread Lord Hob. “Why don’t you hand over your sword?”

“I’m not scared of you, Dominick Hanrahan,” Hob said, though he didn’t sound too convincing.

“That’s because you aren’t smart enough to realize how afraid you really should be,” Dominick said.

In reply, Lord Hob raised his sword above his head, screamed, and ran at Dominick, swinging the white blade.

Dominic lifted Arakis to block the blow, and like earlier, as soon as the two blades met there was an explosion and the two were thrown back from each other. Dominick rose, his body aching in all the wrong places, only to find Lord Hob charging at him again.

The result was the same. The white blade smacked into the black blade, followed by the subsequent explosion.

Yet, once again, Dominick rose to find Lord Hob on the move.

But this time Dominick fired a lightning bolt into the ground at Hob’s feet. The ground beneath the Dread Lord exploded and Lord Hob was on his back for the fourth time.

“Stop it!” Dominick shouted, sending another bolt, and knocking the white-clad man once more onto his back. “One more chance, Hob. Give me your sword, leave this place, abandon your army, never make war with the people of Gund again, or I will fry you where you stand. Or… lay. Lie? Doesn’t matter, you’ll be crispy in matter of seconds.”

The Dread Lord Hob. Scourge of the West, Defiler of the East, Plague of the North, Overlord of the South, and King of the Nighttime World threw his sword aside and rose. He looked from Dominick to the army behind him, then back to Dominick.

And so, with little in the way of dignity or ceremony, Lord Hob tucked tail and ran off into the trees.

Hob’s army, after nearly thirty seconds of confused silence, followed.

To be continued...

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THEN A PENGUIN WALKED IN #11

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The following comes from Then A Penguin Walked In and Other Tall Tales, currently on sale digitally and in paperback.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE DREAD LORD HOB

THE DREAD LORD HOB; Scourge of the West, Defiler of the East, Plague of the North, Overlord of the South, and King of the Nighttime World had grown impatient.

With impatience came irritation. Irritation migrated over to anger and anger had been eye-balling rage for the past ten minutes. Lord Hob did not want to give into his rage so he’d been pacing with Kraxull as he saw to the battle, hoping the task at hand would keep his mind off of Commander Flank.

He paced, and he waited. 

Commander Flank had been gone for almost an hour now and Lord Hob was practically itching to get his hands on this One person so that he could run his sword through him. Once that step was complete and out of the way he could finally get on with conquering the known world already. After that? Well, there were other worlds out there just ripe for the plucking.

The thought of ruling not only Gund, but the other eight realms as well made him smile. Sure, the administrative responsibilities would be a nightmare, but the power would more than make up for it. Once he ruled all nine realms, what would he call himself? ‘Lord’ would no longer be a sufficient enough title to encapsulate how important of a man he would be. ‘King’ wouldn’t do it either. In the end he realized his only option was ‘Emperor’.

Emperor Hob, High Overlord of the Nine Realms.

Now that was a title that really sang.

He could almost cry.

Then something struck him in the back of the head and the anger that had been festering for these past ten minutes grabbed hold of rage and punched it in the face.

He pulled on the reins and Kraxull spun.

There, just a few dozen yards away, stood a very average looking man and six elves. Lord Hob hated elves. They were nothing more than savages and he dreamed of the day he would be able to remove their bloodline from Gund.

But it was the man who drew his attention. He had a rather cocky smile on his bland face and bounced a stone in his left hand. The man, who would never stand out in a crowd the way Lord Hob did, saluted in a manner that Lord Hob immediately took as cheeky.

The man spoke, but Lord Hob could not hear what he had said over the sounds of battle.

Lord Hob shrugged his shoulders and pointed at his ear.

“I said,” the man shouted. “How’s it going?”

No, Lord Hob did not like this man at all. He wasn’t showing any fear or respect for someone of his station. He would have to be taught a lesson.

“Bring me his head,” he commanded of his ogre guard.

The twelve of them drew swords so massive that Lord Hob knew deep down in his heart that even as amazing as he was, he would not have the strength to lift one. As the ogres advanced, they were met with a volley of arrows from the elves at the man’s back. The elves had obviously dealt with ogres before as they continued to fire arrow after arrow, more than a half dozen per target, until each of his ogres had fallen.

Would you like me to eat him? The dragon spoke to the Dread Lord Hob in his mind.

No, Lord Hob replied mentally. I will deal with this. You remain here.

I may be needed, Kraxull said. This man has elves with him.

If I need you, I will call you. Remain here.

I will do as you have commanded.

Lord Hob dismounted and approached the strangers. 

“I’m told that you are Hob,” the man said.

“I am Lord Hob.” He really didn’t like this guy. “Who are you who dares to speak to me as an equal?”

“Me?” the man said, pointing at himself. “I’m nobody important. I mean I am, of course, I wouldn’t be here otherwise, but really I’m not.”

“I would have your name,” Lord Hob commanded.

“Dominick Hanrahan,” the man said, that cocky smile back on his face.

“I’ve never heard of you,” Lord Hob said.

“Well, you wouldn’t have,” the man said. “Not by my real name, anyway. You may have heard of my other name, however.”

“Your other name?”

“Oh yeah,” the man said. “I’m actually quite a big deal. Probably bigger than you, Hob.”

“It’s Lord Hob, and I doubt it.”

“If you say so, but it doesn’t change the fact of who I am and why I’m here with you in this moment.”

Lord Hob looked the man up and down, his eyes pausing for a moment on the sword the man wore on his back. There was nothing exceptional about this man. His armor, chain mail under a blue surcoat, was dull and did not gleam like his own. The man’s hair was unkempt and had neither body nor luster. And his face, well, his face left little to be desired. The man before him was just a man. Yet, his bravado and arrogance gave Lord Hob an uneasy feeling. 

“Who are you, then?” Lord Hob could not help but ask.

“Around here the people have been calling me the One,” the man said.

Lord Hob laughed. “You are the One. You?”

“I know, I didn’t believe it at first either,” the man said. “But that’s what everyone keeps telling me. Plus, I do have this.”

The man drew his sword and Lord Hob took an involuntary step back as he took in the color of the blade.

Black.

“Arakis,” Lord Hob said.

“That it is,” the man said. “Now here’s the thing, Hob. Everyone has been telling me that you and I are supposed to fight and that I’m going to defeat you. But here’s how I see it. We don’t have to fight. I don’t need to kill you to defeat you. Really all I have to do is make sure that you leave these good people alone. The way I figure it, if you was to go ahead and just pack up this little army of yours, go back to wherever it is you came from, and promise never to come back, then you and I are square. What do you say?”

“I say that you are an arrogant little man who needs to be taught a lesson about station,” Lord Hob said. “You dare to speak to me as if you were not like the worm that dwells among the dirt and filth. A worm that lives its life by my whim. You are nothing to me, worm.” He drew his own sword with its alabaster blade. “You believe Arakis would impress me? Look upon Loth, the White Sword of Death and know it for your doom.”

Lord Hob struck with the deadly grace of a snake, coming in low, but the man moved at an unbelievable speed. Before Loth could taste his flesh, the man had drawn his sword and moved to block. The two blades met. Thunder crashed from overhead and lightning fell all around them, striking the earth with explosive force and sending dirt and rock flying into the sky. 

Both combatants were thrown from each other by the concussive force and Lord Hob felt weightless for a moment as he sailed through the air. He landed with a crash at Kraxull’s feet and after taking an irritated moment to fix his hair, he looked up into the face of the great dragon.

“Kill him,” Lord Hob said, and the dragon smiled.

To be continued...

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THEN A PENGUIN WALKED IN #10

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The following comes from Then A Penguin Walked In and Other Tall Tales, currently on sale digitally and in paperback.

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CHAPTER TEN: THE PIXIE CAGES

DOMINICK WAS KNOCKED TO the ground by a fist the size of a coffee can, the bulk value type you can only get in one of those big box stores. He fell like a tree and tasted both dirt and blood. Then someone was on top of him and holding him down. The smell of old feet grew more intense and the meal he’d eaten earlier muscled its way up and out of his throat as Arakis was ripped from his side. The stench, he realized, radiated from the figure that held him fast, and Dominick fought against his captor like a rabid animal, if only to escape the foulness that threatened to forever eradicate his sense of smell.

Strong hands took hold of Dominick and pulled him to his feet. Their assailants ringed him like a gathering of stone pillars and as they crowded around him, they blocked out the sun and he could see for the first time that they were ogres, twenty or more.

“God what I wouldn’t give for a nice steady downpour and a box of detergent,” Dominick said. He tried breathing through his mouth, but found that he could actually taste the smell, which only made things worse and he dry heaved for a bit.

The wall of stank parted and a lizard man entered the ring. He held a small glass cage in each hand. Vivian was in one, Harold the other. Each of the pixies appeared to be unconscious. At least he hoped they were. He didn’t like to think of the alternative.

“If you’ve hurt either one of them, I’ll—” Dominick began.

“You’ll what?” the lizard man said. “Give me a stern look? Speak to me in a rude manner? Tell me, ape, what could you do to me?”

“What’s your name?” Dominick asked.

“What?” The lizard hadn’t expected such a reply.

“Your name? It’s not a hard question.”

“I am Flank,” the thing said.

“Flank,” said Dominick. “I will get free, and when I do, I’m going to take up my sword and shove it so far down your throat that you’ll be pooping steel by morning.” He wasn’t sure where that had come from, but seeing Vivian and Harold locked up and hurt sent a bolt of rage through him like he’d never known.

“My, my, my,” Flank said. “You’re certainly colorful.” He handed the two cages to one of the ogres. “Not that it matters, but your little friends have not been harmed. Their cages, however, keep them from using their magic so that we can get the three of you safely to my Lord.”

“You’re taking us to Hob?”

“Lord Hob, yes. He has commanded it.”

“Good. As chance has it, we were already on our way to see your boss. It would be nice to have an escort through unfriendly territory. The less fighting I have to do to get to your boy, Hob; the more refreshed I’ll be when I kill him.” He was getting quite good at this heroic bravado crap; laughing in the face of danger and such. He only hoped he could back it up when it counted.

Flank only laughed. “You amuse me, ape. I look forward to watching as Lord Hob feeds your spine to his dragon.”

“You mean the white slug he’s riding around down there?” Dominick asked, tasting more blood as he tested a loose tooth with his tongue. Whoever had hit him hadn’t been fooling around. “Back where I’m from, we know how to take care of slugs. Just a little salt and they shrivel and die like that tiny lump between Hob’s ears.”

“You will address my master as Lord Hob!” Foam flecked the lizard’s scaly lips.

“The only thing I have to do bleed,” Dominick said, emphasizing his point by spitting blood on Flank’s foot.

The ogres pressed in, a collective growl coming from their throats, a sound that radiated all the way down to Dominick’s toes.

“No,” Flank said, holding up a clawed hand. “He was to be delivered to Lord Hob uninjured, something we have already failed at. Any more harm upon his person and we will all have to answer for it. As it is, just one of you will be punished for making the One bleed.”

One of the ogres actually managed to look ashamed at that news.

“Okay then, Big Green,” Dominick said with a sigh. “Take me to your leader.”

Dominick’s hands were tied behind his back and they set off. But before the party had traveled more than thirty yards a hail of arrows flew in from the tree line.

Ogres fell all around him and Dominick could do nothing but watch helplessly as the fairy cages dropped from the dead hands of the ogres that held them.

In a matter of seconds only Dominick and Flank remained standing. The rest, the ogre horde, lay about them like smelly pin cushions. 

A small band of elves stepped from the trees, six in all, and in the lead was Uto, the Elf Lord.

“Greetings, Sacred One,” Uto smiled to Dominick as his companions surrounded Flank. “It was clever of me to deduce that your fae friends would take you around the battle using the secret way, no?”

“Yes, quite clever,” Dominick agreed.

Uto pulled a long, wicked-looking knife from his belt and walked around behind Dominick.

“Not so clever though,” Uto said and sliced the blade through the leather thong that bound Dominick’s wrists. “Only as clever as the lizard man. He figured it out as well.”

“My master was the one to figure it out, elf,” Flank spat. “Lord Hob’s genius will conquer you all.”

“Genius?” Uto said, stepping to face Flank. “I do not think so. After all, he sent you. Not so smart, yes?”

“Thanks for the big save, Uto,” Dominick said, rubbing at his wrists. They hadn’t been bound long enough for them to hurt, but it’s what people always did on TV, so he felt obligated to continue the tradition. 

One of Uto’s elven warriors had bent to retrieve the two pixie cages and was using her knife to pry them open.

“How are they?” Dominick asked.

“They are well, Sacred One,” the elf said. “These cages only make them sleep so that they are not able to work their magic. They will wake soon.”

“That’s good news, I was worried. Thanks, um...”

“Hib, Sacred One,” she said.

“Hib, thanks,” Dominick said.

“So, lizard,” Uto was saying to Flank. “What should we do with you?”

“Kill me,” Flank said. “I have failed the Dread Lord, I’m as good as dead anyway.”

“Has anyone seen my sword?” Dominick asked.

“It is here, Sacred One,” another of the elves said, approaching with Arakis.

All of the elves in Uto’s band dressed similar to their leader in the tanned hides of animals. Uto was, however, the only one of them who was bald. The rest all had long silken hair that they had tied into pony tails with leather chords.

Dominick took the sword from the elf who then introduced himself as Liro.

“Thank you, Liro,” Dominick said, and then strapped the sword to his back. “You have all done me a great service this day.” He figured that’s what a prophesied hero would say in a similar situation.

“It was you the lizard wanted, Sacred One,” Uto said, smiling his feral smile at Dominick. “You must decide what it is we are to do with him.”

“You hear that, Flanklin?” Dominick said. “I get to decide what to do you with you. I find that rather appealing.”

“I am not afraid to die,” Flank said.

“Yeah, I don’t buy that. You’re posturing and we all know it,” Dominick said. “But that’s okay, we’ve all been guilty of a little posturing now and again, so I’m going to let you have it. Besides, it’s your lucky day. Would someone mind binding his hands?”

“My lucky day?” Flank said as Hib drew up behind him and tied the lizard’s wrists together. “I don’t quite follow you.”

“You don’t follow me?”

“I don’t follow you.”

“What’s not to follow?” Dominick said.

“You say it is my lucky day,” Flank said.

“I did.”

“That is what I am not following.”

“It’s your lucky day. What’s so difficult about that?” Dominick said.

“I am having difficulty in finding what it is about today that makes it a lucky one,” Flank said.

“Oh, well that’s simple,” Dominick said. “It’s your lucky day because we aren’t going to kill you.”

“Are we not?” Uto said, a disappointed look sliding across his face. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Dominick said. “You get life, Flankfurter. Life.”

Flank had no reply.

“We’ll leave him behind,” Dominick said.

“What if he tries to follow us, or manages to get word of our coming to the Dread Lord?” Uto asked.

“We can tie him to a tree or something,” Dominick said.

Uto looked around. “If we tie him to a tree he could starve before someone finds him. Might as well just kill him now. It will be kinder, I think.”

“I’d rather not just kill him in cold blood,” Dominick said.

“We could take him with us,” Liro suggested.

“I don’t want to do that, either,” Dominick said. “Why does this have to be so difficult?”

Then Hib casually walked up behind the lizard man and rapped him smartly across the back of his head with a large rock. Flank dropped like so many bricks.

“There,” Hib said. “By the time he wakes up, we will be long gone and he will have no time to warn anyone.”

“Ogres!” A tiny voice shouted.

Each of the elves had arrows out, knocked, and bows drawn in the split second it took for them all to realize that the shout had come from Harold.

Dominick went over to the pixie. Harold was sitting up atop a small fur blanket that Hib had lain out for him and Vivian. His sword was drawn, and he looked about in confusion. Vivian stirred next to him, but remained sleeping.

“It’s okay, Harold,” Dominick said, bending over the tiny figure. “They’ve been taken care of.”

“Lord Uto?” Harold said, sheathing his sword. “What are you doing here?”

Dominick filled him in.

“I am filled with deep shame, Dominick Hanrahan,” Harold said, his little face going red. “I have failed you.”

“Forget about it,” Dominick said. “It happens. You okay to travel?”

“I think so,” Harold rubbed at his eyes. “I’ll try to wake Vivian.”

“We will accompany you, Sacred One,” Uto said.

“I’d like that,” Dominick smiled. “But you and your warriors have to stop with the ‘Sacred One’ nonsense, deal? I’m Dominick, that’s all.” He held his hand out.

Uto took Dominick’s hand in a powerful grip and they shook.

“Dominick,” Uto said. “It is a deal.”

Eventually Harold was able to get Vivian awake, but as they were both still somewhat groggy, they traveled with Dominick, one on each shoulder, as they descended into the valley.

There was no plan, nothing had been discussed beforehand. In the end they simply walked into Hob’s camp and made their presence known. This involved the elven warriors methodically cutting down any outlying soldier unlucky enough to be stationed as rear guard.

Dominick followed the elves in, moving steadily through the rows of tents until they reached the back of the rear force itself. And there, perched astride his dragon, was Lord Hob. He was surrounded by a dozen ogres in loincloths. All twelve held swords longer than Dominick was tall. As first meetings between enemies go, it wasn’t anything you’d want to write your mom about.

As Dominick approached, Lord Hob was facing the other direction, and at first didn’t even realize that his most hated enemy, the one prophesied for generations to be his undoing, was well within his reach.

“You two ready for this?” Dominick asked Vivian and Harold. “I’m counting on you to keep that dragon off of me.” The sheer volume of noise coming from the battle in front of them was enough that Dominick had to speak louder than normal to be heard by the two fairies, yet felt safe that Hob, though just twenty or thirty yards away, wouldn’t be able to hear him before he was ready to have his presence known.

“We will do our best,” Vivian said. “Neither of us has yet to fully recover from the effects of the pixie cage, so our magic may be spotty at best.”

“Spotty?

“We may not have full access to our magical abilities,” Harold clarified. “It would be like trying to dig a ditch after carrying large rocks all day.”

“Okay, well that makes me more than a little terrified,” Dominick said. “But we’ll make do, I suppose.”

“You are coming into your role quite nicely, Dominick,” Vivian said, smiling.

“Thanks,” Dominick said. “To tell the truth, I’m about to have a movement straight into my pants, but it helps that everything has happened so fast, I suppose. I haven’t really had time to think about how crazy this all is.”

And for just a moment, Dominick began to think about how crazy it all was. It really had happened all too fast. It never seemed to work out like this in the books he read. There was usually a long journey or quest interspersed with minor skirmishes to give the hero time to get used to the idea. But this... Dominick could feel the grandpappy of all panic attacks build within him.

“Dominick?” Vivian said, pulling him from his brief moment of terror. “Are you okay?”

Dominick looked from Vivian to Harold, not an easy feat with them perched on each shoulder. Then he scanned the expectant faces of the elves and sighed.

“I’m fine,” he said. “And I’m here, so I guess I’m committed to this psychotic quest.”

“Good man,” Harold said. “We have faith in you.”

“Someone has to.” Dominick bent and picked a stone from off the ground, bouncing it once or twice in his palm.

“Okay. Let’s do this,” he said, and then he threw the stone at Lord Hob, Scourge of the West, Defiler of the East, Plague of the North, Overlord of the South, King of the Nighttime World, and the most terrifying man in all of Gund.

To be continued...

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JUST ANOTHER FANBOY 294

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Today on Just Another Fanboy I take a look at The Frost Giant's Daughter, a short story by Robert E. Howard starring Conan the Barbarian, and the various comic book adaptations from Marvel Comics, Dark Horse, and Ablaze.

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THEN A PENGUIN WALKED IN #9

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CHAPTER NINE: THE WHITE DRAGON

THE HALL WENT QUIET, and Dominick could sense that those in attendance were looking to him, including both the soldiers and the Triumvirate.

“So, what so we do, Mr. Hanrahan?” Captain Ovati asked, a note of sarcasm in her voice he was fairly certain she wasn’t trying to hide. “You are, after all, our only hope.”

“Uh,” Dominick replied, looking to Vivian for help.

“Come on, mighty warrior, tell us what to do.” Ovati was smiling now, and not in a good way.

Dominick threw a considerable amount of his accessible brain capacity at the issue. He rifled through his mental filing cabinet, gathering all the information he’d accumulated over the years regarding key military figures, elite combat units, and military strategy. Though he had what would account for over a dozen terabytes of this specialized type of information stored on his internal memory system, it took his brain less than a fraction of second to comb through the records and report back that there probably wasn’t anything the A-Team had ever done that would be of any help to him in this current situation. So, Dominick responded the only way that he could.

“Uh,” he repeated.

“Figures,” Captain Ovati said, a disgusted look on her face. She turned to the soldiers. “We need to get these people into the shelters below the palace. Once they are secure, join me on the wall.”

The soldiers began to move, ushering the crowd out of the hall in an orderly fashion. Dominick could do nothing but watch as the people were shuffled out. Captain Ovati and a few select soldiers escorted the Triumvirate from the dais and out a door in the back.

Soon Dominick was alone with Vivian.

“I guess I’m a pretty big disappointment, huh?” Dominick said.

“What do you mean?” the pixie replied, her face a mask of confusion.

“Well, it’s all happening now, right? The big battle? It’s what I’m here for and so far I’ve been pretty useless.”

“Because you have no knowledge of how to disperse troops for battle?” She smiled. “Dominick, you are too hard on yourself. Your purpose is not to lead the armies into battle.”

“It’s not?”

“No, you are here to defeat Lord Hob. That is your only task. You must meet him on the field of battle, you must do combat with him, and you must win,” Vivian said.

“Okay,” Dominick said. “No pressure.”

“Vivian,” Harold buzzed in. He was dressed in a tiny suit of leather armor and carried a sword the size of a toothpick. “Lord Hob has come.”

“Yes, Harold,” Vivian said. “We know.”

“We must get Dominick Hanrahan out to meet him,” Harold said.

“Yes, Harold,” Vivian said. “We know this as well.”

“So, uh,” Dominick floundered. “That’s it? We’re just going to go out there now? Like now, now?”

“Lord Hob has been spotted on the battlefield,” Harold said. “There is no time to waste.”

“Okay,” Dominick said. “So, now then?”

“Yes, Dominick Hanrahan,” Harold said, a confused look on his face. “Now.”

“Worry not, Dominick,” Vivian said. “You handled yourself well against Captain Ovati. That is the power of Arakis.”

“Yeah, I did find it a bit odd that I had suddenly become a skilled swordsman,” Dominick said, smiling. “I mean, it’s always been my understanding that sword fighting isn’t as easy as they make it look in the movies. So that was the sword doing all that? That’s what it does?”

“That is only a small part of the sword’s powers,” she said. “But you can feel confident that the sword will protect you.”

“So, it makes me invulnerable?”

Vivian and Harold exchanged glances.

“Very nearly so,” Vivian replied.

“Okay, well,” Dominick said, running his hands through his hair. “I guess near invulnerability will have to do. Heck, even Superman isn’t all powerful.”

“Do not fear, Dominick Hanrahan,” Harold said. “Vivian and I will be with you every step of the way.”

“Ah,” Dominick said, his sarcasm more than apparent. “That takes a load off my shoulders.” 

“A pixie’s magic is not to be taken lightly,” Vivian said, steel showing in her eyes.

Dominick gulped and thought back to earlier today when he’d first encountered Vivian in the guise of a penguin and how, even in the shape of such an awkward little creature, she’d taken on one of the lizard men without breaking a sweat. Maybe his sarcasm was unwarranted. 

“Alright then,” he said, drawing himself up. “Let’s go take this Hob guy out, already.”

The three set off and Dominick found himself once again walking the twisty-turny stone walkways of the palace. After a few minutes the atmosphere around them grew dim and dank.

“Are we underground?” He asked.

“We are, Dominick Hanrahan,” Harold said. “Very astute.”

“We are traveling along a secret path,” Vivian said with a small wink. “It will take us out beyond the palace and up into the hills above.”

“If all goes according to plan,” Harold said. “We should come out behind Lord Hob and his forces.”

“Lord Hob is known to command from the relative safety of the back of his army,” Vivian said.

“Which means we won’t have all this nonsense of wading through the thick of the battle to get to our goal,” Harold said.

“Okay, so say it does go according to plan,” Dominick said. “How do I find this Hob guy? Are you going to point him out to me and then just let me loose?”

“The Dread Lord Hob will be distinctive among his followers for the white armor he wears,” Vivian said.

“White armor?”

“It gleams like the winter snow,” Harold said. “Also, he will more than likely be astride Kraxull, the great white dragon of Skelldom.”

Dominick stopped walking.

“Yes, of course,” Vivian said. “I’d almost forgotten about Kraxull. He will be quite difficult to miss for sure.”

The two pixies had continued to glide down the damp tunnel, oblivious of the fact that they had left the Hope of Haven, the Savior of Gund, behind.

“Kraxull truly is a magnificent creature,” Harold said. “So very impressive.”

“Quite so,” Vivian replied with excitement. “And such intelligence. He is more than just muscles, teeth, and claws.”

“Guys,” Dominick said, taking a seat on the cold, stone floor.

“But what teeth!” Harold said. “I once saw Kraxull split a cow in two with just one bite. And this was no calf, mind you. I’m talking about a full-grown cow.”

“Guys,” Dominick repeated. He was having trouble breathing.

“Oh wow!” Vivian said. “That must have been an impressive sight.”

“It certainly was, I can tell you,” Harold said.

“Guys!” Dominick’s shout echoed down the corridor.

The two pixies turned with a start once they realized that Dominick was no longer walking alongside them but was instead sitting on the floor fifty yards behind, his head in his hands. He rocked back and forth as the pixies glided closer.

“What bothers you, Dominick Hanrahan?” Harold asked, placing a tiny hand on his shoulder.

“What bothers me?” Dominick replied, raising his head. He laughed. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve been sitting here thinking about just that, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

The two pixies exchanged worried glances.

“It could be the dragon,” Dominick continued. “Maybe. I mean, fighting dragons is like eating cake for me, of course, but there’s still something about the concept that continues to nag at me.”

“Alright, Dominick,” Vivian said. “You hurl your sarcasm around like bolts of lightning.”

“A dragon, Vivian?” Dominick stood. “A dragon!? No one said anything about a dragon. I don’t recall that being part of the sales pitch.”

“Dominick,” Vivian began.

“One guy, Vivian,” Dominick continued. “One guy. That was it. The one guy in all of Gund that everyone seems to be terrified of. That’s what I agreed to.”

“Dominick,” Vivian tried once again.

“I mean, that fact alone is enough to make me question my own sanity. For me—ME!—to make that choice...” He buried his face in his hands.

“Dominick,” Vivian said. “You needn’t worry about Kraxull.”

“I could be home right now. Sitting comfortably on my couch, flipping through this week’s new comics, or watching something, anything, on TV. But instead, I’m doing this. And now I have to fight a dragon.”

“We will take care of Kraxull,” Harold said.

“Yes, Dominick,” Vivian said. “You need not worry.”

He looked up. “You two? You two will take on a dragon? A dragon big enough to split a cow in half with just one bite? You two?”

The two pixies only stared at him, their eyes boring a hole through his own.

“Okay,” Dominick said. “A pixie’s magic is not to be taken lightly; I get it.”

“Are you sufficiently prepared now to do your part?” Vivian asked.

“You mean, am I ready to stand up to the big bad wolf?”

“Wolf?” Harold looked confused. “I do not believe that Lord Hob has any trained wolves in his army.”

Harold shared another look with Vivian and then the two trained their quizzical gazes on Dominick.

“Never mind,” Dominick said. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Dominick walked alongside the buzzing pixies for another thirty minutes before they eventually reached the end of the tunnel. They found before them an iron bound door which opened to a small, wooded glade. The sound of battle threaded its way through the trees the moment they had opened the door, and as they moved softly through the wood, they came to the tree line and looked out upon a wide valley that opened below them. 

The sun was setting on their left. Unless Gund followed different rules than Earth, which he supposed it very well could, the valley below was due north.

About a half a mile away, as near as Dominick could estimate, down in the valley, they could see the two mighty armies clashing upon an open field just outside the gates of Haven to the northeast. As the two pixies had said, they had come out of the tunnel to the rear of the battle, but they were high enough on the hill that they could see the two armies stretched out before them.

Just outside the gates the five races of Gund fought together with seamless coordination against a horde of lizard men, humans, and ogres. Dominick scanned the armies of Lord Hob until he spotted the man himself, resplendent in white armor and black cape, sitting astride a white dragon the size of a bus. 

“That’s him,” Vivian said, pointing to the man in white.

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” Dominick said.

He watched Lord Hob as the man in white rode the dragon up and down the back line of the army, gesturing in such a fervent manner that Dominick could only assume meant that the Dread Lord was barking orders and using the threat of violence to encourage his army forward. The dragon certainly was an impressive beast. Even from as far back as Dominick stood, he could see the sheer power of the creature. He tried to imagine what the two pixies might be able to do against such a monster, but in the end, he decided to trust in his two companions.

As he watched the battle below, a chill wind descended on him from the west and Dominick put his hands in his pants pockets to try and keep them warm.

In one of his pockets he encountered the salt shaker from earlier that morning. He laughed and pulled it out, looking it over. Of all the things to bring over from his world he had brought with him salt, and only because he’d been toying with the idea of chucking it in a fryer.

He thought about how long ago it had all seemed, then pushed the idea out of his head for being a bit cliché. 

“Shall we go?” Vivian asked.

Dominick sighed. “Yeah, I suppose we should.”

Suddenly there was a stench on the wind like a thousand sweaty gym socks found at the bottom of a locker that hadn’t been opened in a hundred humid-filled years. Before he could plug his nose, a small group of large figures burst through the trees from the west, the sun at their backs. The sun was so blinding that Dominick and his companions found themselves more than a little disoriented. Enough so anyways that the group was on top of them before they could react.

To be continued...

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THEN A PENGUIN WALKED IN #8

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The following comes from Then A Penguin Walked In and Other Tall Tales, currently on sale digitally and in paperback.

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CHAPTER EIGHT: THE CAPTAIN'S DOUBT

A STIR OF EMOTIONS rippled through the assembled crowd. It started as a whispered buzz, moved to a nervous chatter, climbed a level to a steady babble, and then finally rose in crescendo to the bombastic roar of contrary howling.

The dark woman with the sword ignored it all. She only had eyes for Dominick, and not in the way that romantics spend most of their waking moment dreaming about. The eyes that took him in held anger, suspicion, mistrust, a bit more anger, contempt, and another dash of anger.

Dominick took an involuntary step back.

Queen Genivene stood and the howling of the crowd died down to an annoyed murmur.

“Captain Ovati,” the Queen addressed the angry woman. “You doubt this man’s claim?”

“I do, my Queen,” the woman, Captain Ovati, said.

“He bears the Mark,” the Queen said. “He wields the sword. Yet still, you doubt?”

“I do, my Queen.” The Captain never took her eyes off of Dominick.

“What’s happening?” Dominick said.

“That’s Captain Ovati,” Vivian said quietly into his ear, her voice that of one filled with deep disgust. “She’s in charge of Queen Genivene’s Royal Guard.”

“I have spoken for this man,” the Queen said. “Do you doubt my word?”

“No, my Queen,” the Captain said. “I do not doubt your word. But it is my job to ensure your safety, and in turn, the safety of Haven.”

“Only the One can wield Arakis,” Vivian glided toward Captain Ovati. The look on the little pixie’s face like that of someone forced to smell something unpleasant. “To any other it is just a sword. But in the hands of the One, well... Such power is indescribable.” Vivian smiled.

“You may speak true, fae,” the Captain said, finally turning from Dominick to face Vivian. “But there is little doubt to me, and to those present, that this man has proven nothing more than he can lift Arakis above his head. I see no proof that he can harness the power of the black sword. I have the right to challenge. If this Dominick Hanrahan is truly the One, then he will be more than up to it.”

“What’s happening?” Dominick repeated.

“The Captain has challenged your claim,” Vivian said. “She demands more proof that you are, in fact, the One.”

“Proof? Okay, what do I need to do?”

Captain Ovati had gone back to staring at Dominick with a critical eye. She had an old scar that drew a white line from above her right eye, down to the middle of her cheek.

“You must fight her,” Vivian said.

“What?” Dominick looked from the Captain to the pixie, then back to the Captain.

He tried not to focus on her battle-scarred armor or the way the grip of her sword looked to be worn with continuous use. He tried not to notice the way she continued to study him, like a bug she was about to step on. He even tried to screw up his courage in anticipation of the inevitable fight between the two. But after all that he’d been through today, he decided just to give himself over to instinct and fall apart.

He threw his hands into the air.

“Okay, I’m done,” Dominick said to everyone, his voice reaching even those on the other side of the hall. “This was fun and all, what with the monsters that tried to kill me and stuff. Oh, and the impending threat of single-handedly standing against a person that each of you fear down to your toes. But I have come to the official end of my rope.”

The members of the Triumvirate frowned and Queen Genivene sat down.

“I want to thank everyone for the lovely bath, the sword, the ring, and the wonderful new clothes, but I think it’s time for me to take my ball and go home. I’m done. I’ve had enough. I’m ending this farce here and now. You’ve all been great company, but I’m going to go.”

He began to back out of the hall.

“If you need me for anything further, you can of course give me a call. I’ll leave my number with the secretary out front. But keep in mind that I like to screen my calls.”

He bowed, then turned and waved to the crowd.

“Hanrahan out, people,” Dominick said, then turned to leave.

“See,” Captain Ovati’s voice sounded from behind him. “He is not the One. He’s just another scared little man.”

Dominick spun to face her, heat rising in his face.

“Darn tootin’ I’m scared,” he said. “I’m a fry cook from Kansas. I’m no soldier.” He moved toward her. “I’ve never even been in a fist fight, much less one involving swords and magic and junk. I prefer to avoid confrontation. And you want me to what, cross swords with you? It’s pretty obvious that you’ve been in a few scrapes yourself. Does that sound fair? Oh, and if that’s not enough, I have to fight the Boogie Man as well? No thanks, Lady. Not this guy.”

“Dominick,” Vivian said, gliding toward him. “We are depending on you.”

“I’m sorry, Vivian,” he said. “I’m not your guy. I’m just not.” He kept his eyes locked on Captain Ovati.

“You’re a fool for putting your hope in this sorry excuse for a man, fae,” Ovati said, spitting the words out like spoiled meat.

“Yeah,” Dominick said. “I am at that. I make no excuse for it. As a wise spinach-eating sailor once said: ‘I am what I am and that’s all that I am.’”

“Dominick,” Vivian said.

“I’m going to go now,” he cut her off.

“Coward!” Ovati yelled. Then in one smooth motion, before Dominick could react, she drew her sword and swung it at his head.

He flinched, closed his eyes, and waited for the inevitable. There came a clanging sound near his head, which made him jump, but there was no accompanying pain.

This is what death must feel like, he thought. Painless.

The idea of a painless death, of just ending things here and now in such an easy way made him smile. That was when he heard a collective gasp all around him.

He opened an eye and found something so surprising that he had no choice but to open his other eye and stare in slack jawed amazement.

First, he wasn’t dead. That was astounding enough. But what was even more amazing was the reason behind his miraculous survival:

There, in his hand, was Arakis, the blade drawn up before him and blocking the Captain’s sword, preventing it from taking off the top half of his head. He was rather fond of his head, most especially the top half, so the relief he felt—regardless of how it was able to come to pass—was quite profound.

Captain Ovati, however, did not look impressed. If anything his unexpected escape from death only enraged her further.

She thrust the point of her sword at his heart. Arakis was there to deflect the blow. She swung down in a chopping motion. Dominick stepped back and Arakis glided swiftly into place, knocking her blade aside.

Yet still she continued, pushing him back with the cold viciousness of her attack. Regardless, for every trust of her sword, his was there to block. He moved without thought, as if on some instinctual level he knew exactly what he was doing, like he’d been training for this moment all his life.

It was like a dance, each one moving in concert with the other, flowing through forms meant to kill or defend. Dominick couldn’t explain it. He seemed to know, to anticipate, where the Captain’s blade was going to be and was therefore able to have his own in place to slap aside every thrust, swing, and slice.

And yet, despite his miraculous defensive techniques, Dominick continued to retreat.

“We don’t have to do this, Captain,” he said, knocking aside another thrust. “People where I come from like to sit down and talk through their problems.” He wasn’t even breathing heavily. “That, or shoot at each other.”

The Captain didn’t respond, she only pressed harder, her face a mask of determination.

Then it happened. As Dominick stepped backwards, away from her onslaught of violent hatred, he tripped. Suddenly he was falling. As if in slow motion he could see the toothy smile that split the Captain’s face and before he landed with a thud on his bottom, she was on him.

A collective gasp sounded from all around him.

She took her sword in both hands and swung it down with such force that Dominick could almost hear the whistle it made as it split the air. And so, as he tumbled from his bottom to his back, he flung Arakis up before him and prepared himself for death.

Yet, as Captain Ovati’s steel blade met the black blade of Arakis, there came an explosion as the steel of her sword gave way and shattered, throwing the Captain back to land in a heap a few feet away. The sound of thunder roared through the hall and a bolt of lightning, coming as if from nowhere, struck the tip of Arakis, causing the blade to glow white hot before the room fell into silence.

No one moved as the dust settled around them. Dominick sat up and looked from the sword to the Captain, his eyes wide with shock.

“Holy sh—” but he was cut off as the sound of a blaring horn echoed through the hall.

“Oh no,” Vivian said as Ovati pulled herself to her feet.

“What?” Dominick said.

“It’s the alarm,” Ovati said.

“The alarm? For what?” Dominick said.

Ovati brushed herself off. “It means that Lord Hob and his armies have arrived to kill us all.”

To be continued...

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