For me, I suppose, the big trouble started at the Dragon of the Black
Pool Restaurant in San Francisco, Chinatown. Something bad had
gone down at the Wing Kong Exchange - explosions and death and various
hell dimensions and minor gods leaking all over our preferred Realm of
Occupancy.
My name is Wu, by the way. Wu Tian Fu. I am an Auditor for the
CELESTIAL BUREAUCRACY. Basically, it’s my duty to interview witnesses,
monitor fallout, ensure the “proper” authorities remain ignorant of
what’s really
going on in the worlds around them, and clip any stray threads that may
unravel when the Earth quakes and the poison arrows fall from the sky
and the pillars of Heaven shake.
I was in the Dragon of the Black Pool to take a deposition from one of
the many witnesses to the Wing Kong Exchange Incident; a nice enough
fellow and a warrior of the light named Wang Chi. As we finished our
interview, I packed my few belongings and started for the door when the
conversation behind me took a turn and made my blood run cold.
A white American with red hair and a full and manly beard said, “Gracie
and the triplets will meet us at someplace called the Drunken Goat out by the airport.” I know that bar.
Why do I know that bar? It’s a tavern.
I’ve never been there; but I was always going there, wasn’t I?
I knew, of course, that the Drunken Goat was where it would all begin.
I whirled on the others, drawing my sword, Xiinzhijian, the Sword of the Wise Heart from its Otherspace
beneath my suit coat, then immediately put it away again, when I
realized how foolish I must’ve looked drawing A Most Ancient and Holy
Blade against a handful of mortals - one of whom had just helped rid the
world of the deprivations of the Arch-Fiend Lo Pan.
I couldn’t explain to you why I was so frustrated - it seemed as though
the Gods were mocking me. I knew there was to be adventure, Fortune
and perhaps even Glory (the life of an Auditor for the CELESTIAL
BUREAUCRACY is a cursed life that is never boring or dull); but why must
my destiny’s path lead me to the Drunken Goat?
If I’d previously known such a place existed in the world of men in
the 20th-Century, I’d have taken steps to ensure I never step foot in
there again.
What did I mean, “again?” This was all very confusing. Tiresome
Wang Chi must have read the consternation on my face. “Sheng Wu,” he said, “is there something wrong?”
“I do not know, Wang Chi,” I told him. “I suspect that I must travel to this Drunken Goat,
where I will find a wizard of some sort, a professional thief, a woman
of mystery, a doctor or priest of some kind, and a wild-card; most
likely an over-powered killing machine with few social skills and a
complete lack of subtlety.” Wang and the others stared at me,
slack-jawed.
“Is this a prophecy?”
“No,” I said. “It feels more akin to a tired, but recurring dream. I
imagine that a misunderstanding in the tavern will lead to violence and
the uncovering of some malevolent entity’s plot to either destroy or
take over the world.”
“Of course!” Wang Chi looked half-worried, half-certain. “Let me
rally the Chang Sing and we’ll crush whatever this evil is that
threatens the world!” He ended with his fist clenched between us - a
sign of strength, solidarity and determination.
From behind him, I heard the tall asian, Eddie moan, “not again.”
“No, Wang Chi,” I said sadly, placing my hand on his fist and lowering
it. “When I [MADE THIS CHARACTER THERE WEREN’T ENOUGH POINTS FOR ME TO
GET A PLUCKY ASIAN SIDE-KICK OR AN ARMY OF MINIONS]; I’m afraid I’ll
have to go alone.”
Wang stared at me, his brows crumpled together on his forehead. “I might have understood a half-dozen words of that.”
“I apologize,” I said. “I must have been speaking the Celestial Tongue
of the Dragons. There are no words in the tongues of men, but suffice
it to say that I must ask you to contact your friends and arrange to
meet them somewhere other than the Drunken Goat. I fear that establishment will not be safe tonight.”
Summoning all the power granted to me by the CELESTIAL BUREAUCRACY, I
teleported myself outside, and onto the Ducati [PLENTY OF POINTS FOR
STYLE, THO]. Releasing Xiinzhijian, the Sword of the Wise Heart, from the Otherspace, I placed her in the scabbard behind the motorcycle’s seat cushion.
Keying the ignition, I tore out of Chinatown like a bat out of the Hell
of Being Turned to Rubber and Attached to an Elastic String.
*
I parked the Ducati in the street and slid Xiinzhijian, the Sword of the Wise Heart back into the Otherspace. The Drunken Goat
took up one half of the building, with an old Schwinn Bike Shop in the
other. As I approached the door, it swung open - the doorway filled
with an obese Japanese man.
“Kendan,” I said curtly, without fully understanding why I knew the name.
“An daemonic salaryman with a magic sword and an Italian superbike.”
He shook his head. “Alright then,” he said. “The others are upstairs.
Grey door behind the bar.” The fat man stepped out of way and I
entered the tavern.
This was the first time I’d ever come into this place - just a few
minutes ago, the first I’d laid eyes on it; but something was wrong
here. I turned back to Kendan and cocked an eyebrow. “The threshold,” I
said. “There’s something wrong... It felt like -”
“It felt like passing the dimensional veil,” he said, narrowing his
eyes at me. “This is the first time you’ve been through as an
extra-dimensional creature - your limited experience with the omniverse
has allowed you to sense the shift.”
“Omniverse?”
“Your heavens and worlds and paths in between.”
I nodded. “Hm. Upstairs, then?”
He motioned his big ham-hand toward the bar. “The others are waiting.”
* * *
[EXCERPT FROM THE JOURNAL OF TRAGAN MAGEHAMMER (Translated from the Dwarvish)]
11TH THIRDIS, 1287 - THE YEAR OF THE FALLEN KING
OF COURSE I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED NO BETTER FROM THE CITY GUARD. NO.
THAT IS UNFAIR. I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED, SOONER OR LATER, TO FIND
MYSELF ON THE WRONG END OF thE IMPERIAL LAW. MAGIC IS OUTLAWED, AND I
HAVEN’T EXACTLY BEEN CAREFUL IN MY SEARCH FOR ARCANE LORE.
MY FATHER ASKED ME TO MEET THE ELDEST DAUGHTER OF THE IRONSHIELD CLAN, SO I TOOK HER TO THE DRUNKEN GOAT,
A TAVERN BY THE DOCKS. NOT THE CLASSIEST PLACE IN ARANTHUS; BUT
GUNLÖDA AGREED THAT THE MEAD OFFERED AT KENDAN’S BAR IS FAR SUPERIOR TO
WHAT YOU COULD FIND AT THE WASTED OGRE OR THE FILTHY UNICORN.
I THOUGHT THINGS WERE GOING WELL. BOTH GUNLÖDA AND i WERE APPREHENSIVE
ABOUT OUR CLANS GROWING OPINIONS THAT WE SHOULD BE WED IN AN EFFORT TO
UNITE THE FAMILIES; BUT SHE WAS JOVIAL ENOUGH, AND EASY TO LOOK AT.
THERE WAS EVEN A FINE LAYER OF BLONDE FUR ON HER CHIN AND JAWLINE - NOT
QUITE THE BEARD A DWARVEN LASS OF OLD MIGHT SPORT, BUT SEXY
NONETHELESS.. i WAS JUST SETTLING IN TO THE POSSIBILITY OF REALLY
LIKING HER WHEN A HALF-ELF BY THE ENTRANCE CRIED OUT AS SHE DIED ON THE
END OF A PIKE.
“IMPERIAL MAGE-HUNTERS,” SOMEONE SHOUTED AS THE BLUE AND SILVER CLAD
MAGEHOUNDS BURST INTO THE TAVERN. TO MY LEFT, A HAIR-FOOTED HOBBIT
DROPPED TO THE FLOOR AND ROLLED UNDER THE LEGS OF THE SERVING WENCH
QARLA, KNOCKING HER TO THE FLOOR AND ALL BUT DISAPPEARING INTO THE
SHADOWS UNDER THE BAR.
BY
THE DOOR, ANOTHER PATRON WAS KILLED - GUTTED AT THE END OF AN
EXQUISITELY CRAFTED SILVER SWORD. “NO ONE LEAVES ALIVE,” THE MAGEHOUND
CAPTAIN - HE MUST’VE BEEN THE CAPTAIN - BELLOWED. MORE DRUNKEN PATRONS
FELL TO THE BLADES OF HIS COMRADES.
TAKING GUNLÖDA’S HAND, I PULLED HER BELOW OUR TABLE. TO MY RIGHT,
ANOTHER WAS OVERTURNED, THE HUMAN WHO’D THROWN IT WAS SNARLING AND
GROWLING, CLAWING AT HIS CLOTHES AND BEATING HIS CHEST IN RAGE - A
BERSERKER OF SOME KIND. CRAP.
“GUNLÖDA,” i SAID, FRANTICALLY DRAWING COMPONENTS FROM THE POUCH AT MY
BELT, “i’M SORRY TO HAVE TO TELL YOU THIS, BUT MAGEHAMMER ISN’T JUST A
CLAN NAME.” sHE JUST STARED AT ME, NEITHER ANGRY NOR SCARED. “I’M A
WIZARD.”
“THEN DO SOMETHING,” SHE SAID, SHOVING ME OUT FROM BENEATH THE TABLE.
WITH MY SPELLHAMMER IN ONE HAND AND A PINCH OF POWDERED SALAMANDER
SCALE IN THE OTHER, I TOOK A QUICK INVENTORY OF THE ROOM. A HALF-DOZEN
PATRONS WERE DEAD AT THE FOOT OF TWICE AS MANY OF THE EMPEROR’S WIZARD
HUNTERS. THE “BERSERKER” TO MY RIGHT WAS GONE, REPLACED BY A MASSIVE,
MUSCLE-BOUND WOLF-MAN WHO FLEW ACROSS THE ROOM IN A BLUR OF BLOOD AND
FUR. IT TORE THE THROAT FROM THE NEAREST MAGEHOUND AND WAS ALREADY ONTO
THE NEXT BEFORE I COULD DECIDE IF HIS VICTIM HAD BEEN HUMAN OR ELF.
A RAVEN-HAIRED ELVEN GIRL HAD SLINKED UP BEHIND ONE OF THE SOLDIERS AND
WRAPPED HER ARMS AROUND HIS CHEST. HE SEEMED TORN BETWEEN WANTING TO
TEAR FREE AND NEEDING TO BE SEDUCED. SHE SUNK HER TEETH INTO HIS NECK
AND DRAGGED HIM TO THE FLOOR. DOUBLE CRAP.
A GOLDEN-SKINNED ELF NEAR THE BAR, WITH A FLOURISH OF HIS ROBE AND
CAPE, LAUNCHED A SMALL BARRAGE OF MAGIC-MISSILES AT OUR COMMON FOE,
PELTING THE ONLY DWARVEN MAGEHOUND IN THE ENERGIES OF HIS WILL. I CHOSE
MY TARGET AND SPOKE THE INCANTATION TO FOLLOW THE ELF’S MISSILES WITH
MY OWN FIERY ASSAULT.
ANOTHER MAGEHOUND DROPPED TO THE FLOOR, I BARELY GLIMPSED THE HOBBIT AS
HE DUCKED BACK INTO THE SHADOWS, GRINNING EVILLY. BESIDE THE NEWLY
FALLEN SOLDIER, A YOUNG HUMAN GIRL WAS PRAYING OVER THE FALLEN PATRONS,
BESEECHING HER GOD FOR HEALING GRACE.
IN LESS THAN THE SPACE OF A DOZEN BREATHS THE MAGEHOUNDS WERE ALL DEAD
OR INCAPACITATED; BUT THE ALARM WAS RAISED OUTSIDE, AND MORE SOLDIERS
WERE SURELY ON THEIR WAY.
“WIZARDS!” KENDAN, THE BARKEEPER CRIED, “LET IT NEVER BE SAID THAT THE DRUNKEN GOAT
WAS AN ENEMY OF LEARNED MEN! OVER HERE!” HE KNELT DOWN BESIDE HIS
BAR, HOLDING OPEN A TRAPDOOR. THE WOLF WAS THROUGH IT IN THE SPAN OF A
HEARTBEAT. “IT LEADS TO THE SEWERS,” HE SAID AS THE WOLF SPLASHED DOWN
BELOW, “FOLLOW THE FLOW OF FILTH AND WATER UNTIL THE SUPPORT STRUCTURE
TURNS FROM STONE TO WOOD. COUNT FOUR WOODEN STRUTS AND YOU’LL FIND A
SECRET PASSAGE WHICH LEADS TO A CLEARING IN THE FOREST OF THE ALFATHER.”
THE ELF AND THE HALFLING DROPPED DOWN THROUGH THE FLOOR. THE VAMPIRE
WAS STILL FEASTING. GUNLÖDA AND I APPROACHED THE DROP.
KENDAN SAID, “BEST OF LUCK, FRIEND.” i NODDED AND LEAPT DOWN, MY BOOTS
SPLASHING IN FILTH. I REACHED UP TO AID MY DATE’S DESCENT, AND THEN WE
WERE OFF. BY THE TIME WE REACHED THE HIDDEN DOOR, THE VAMPIRE HAD
CAUGHT UP TO US. AFTER A SHORT DISCUSSION, WE ALL AGREED THAT KENDAN’S
TUNNEL TO ALFATHER FOREST WAS OUR BEST BET AND WE STARTED DOWN THE LONG
PASSAGE TOWARD...
* * *
[PEOPLE’S EXHIBIT 17B - THE PRIVATE DIARIES OF SIMON WEESE, AKA THE ENDER (excerpt)]
june
16, 2011. the people of this diskusting city never sease to amaze me
with their continued inability to raise above the filth instead they
just wallow in it turning the brite shining hope of mans future into
just so much more shit dripping out of the sewers of reality tv
considering joining a supergrup today is the six anniversary of when
the bitch left me for that superfreak neanderthul still the best thing
that could ever have happened to the hunt worrying about the cares and
wants of some telemagic bimbo was cereally getting in the way of my dudy
ending the apathy and depretation that ruins this rotten hulk of a
once beutiful town on my rounds through little tokyo, i found myself
standing outside a japanese bar Yopparai Yagi
huh my japanese is terrible but the words drunken goat i recognize in
a heartbeat its like dejavu casting a sarcastic eye to god i walked
in a fucking yakuza bar graet the bartender was a fat old man named
ken dan he poured me a saki and watched eagerry as i lifted the mask to
swallow it he made some sort of bullshit coment that i was a man after
all and then all the sound faded out of the world andthe shadows at the
end of the bar grew and stretched out turning halve the place into
blackest void fuckin supers one of the yakuza was standing in front of
the shadow pulling knives out of the tattoos on his stomach the
italien man seated by the window stood up and got between the angry
yakuza and the server get behind me carla he said he began chanting in
some mystikal jiberish a mage thats just fantastic another yakuza
was removing his hoodie big snakes were uncoiling from the ink wrapped
around his chest and arms one of the snakes tho whirled around and
struck at the dark behind him a third yakuza was knocked on his ass by a
familiar black and red blur i worked with swift once good in a fight
but that klepto streak of his is going to put us at odd ends of a
beatdown someday knife boy threws his blades at me and was immediately
yanked into the shadow i thought i caught the glimpse of a girl but i
was too busy dodging to be certain i was also too slow too three small
throwing knives sunk themselves into my gut my leg my groin i fell to
the ground in a heap she was white living light the complete opposite
of the vague shadow woman from which she emerged the magician behind
me had sumoned doberman sized honeybadgers to deal with the snakes and
was now holding their master in some sort of magick cage swift was
punching and kicking a fourth yakuza and the glowing light girl was
pulling a knife out of my crotch the wounds healing almost instantly in
the mystik light of her naked form she was really pretty i must
really miss the bitch i dont know why im talking like that when it was
over i found out that the magician was mystico the marvelous master of
magic the girls are twins shadoe and lyte swift introduced me to their
leader deus excelsior some cosmic entity that fancies itself the god of
superheroes hrm i usually work alone but i could do a lot with their
kind of firepower at my disposal
* * *
A long time ago, in a galaxy far away...
I
have no idea, why we need another slicer. Sitting in an out-of-the-way
cantina on Sleheyron with a cup of jawa juice in my hand, waiting for
the damn Jedi to make a deal I still think is pointless, I’m forced to
wonder again why I travel with these dumb nerfs.
The
Anzat beside me had her eyes closed, sunk back into her voluminous
cloak, she seemed to be meditating, or - more likely - daydreaming about
her next meal. The almost imperceptible tentacles in her cheeks
twitched slightly.
The
frakking Mon Cal doctor on my other side was still trying to comb
tangles out of the fur at my elbow. I turned and growled at him to cut
it the hell out. He jumped in his seat and apologized, getting the jist
of what I’d said, even without speaking Shyriiwook. The Anzat chuckled
but didn’t stir.
Without
warning, there was a shout of anger from over by the bar, a war droid
I’d mistaken for derelict stood from its corner by the door and started
firing its blaster arm at a man standing behind Hoon. The slicer swept a
leg out beneath another man who fell to the ground without one of his
arms. I didn’t even see Hoon ignite his lightsaber.
The
big man behind the bar was shouting at the slicer. “Here now,” he
said. “I told you that droid was alright so long as it didn’t hurt
nobody!” The droid, however, was already striding out through the front
entrance. Hoon and the new slicer were walking over to our table.
“We’d best leave, I think,” the Jedi said. “This is our new slicer, Feen. He’s got a pretty useful old wardroid too.”
Still unimpressed, I growled at Hoon, “he’s a Squib.”
“He
speaks Wookiee,” the Squib said, “and he’s already in a bit of trouble
with the Hutts, so the sooner we’re off-world the better.”
“Here
now,” the big man from behind the bar said, walking up behind Hoon and
Feen. “My name’s Kendan; and I’ve a little business proposition for a
couple of hard cases like yourselves.”
Everyone groaned, but no one really understood why. We had a crappy plan, but we really did need some real work.
“Kendan,” I said, “what the hell is the name of this Cantina?”
The fat man brought himself up to his full height and adjusted his waistband. “Toagnek Nurd,” he said. “A nurd is a small, horned nerf-like critter from Haasan VI.”
“Toagnek?”
“Haasani for ‘drunken.’”
“We need to get out of here,” the Anzat said. Her eyes were still closed, though; as if she knew we weren’t going anywhere.
* * *
We were in the Drunken Goat
in Fallcrest, trying to figure out the best way to turn our talents
into fortunes, when this asinine half-orc reached out and grabbed Kinda.
Apparently she was helping him lighten his pockets when he reached for
some silver to pay his tab. There was a bar fight. Mayark put
everyone to sleep with a quick spell, and we decided we’d best high out
of town... maybe take a look for those kobold brigands we gave the slip
to outside the gates
We
beat feet out the west gate and made our way toward that old run-down
building we’d seen on the way in. If it wasn’t the kobold’s hideout,
it’d probably be a good camping spot if we had to spend the night in the
wilds.
On the road west we ran afoul of...
.JPG)
