Fate Deals the Cards Temperance
Chapter 22 Coo-Coo For Cocoa Puffs
“Orders is orders.” Princess Sapphire declared firmly, her tiny arms crossed to signal her determination, not just because she was once again wondering what it would feel like to have furry boobies, like Thera. “I says so. You is my retainer.” She said, with utter finality.
“Yes, princess. It shall be so.” Thera sighed, with a bow to her little Mistress.
“Secret orders. Is tippy-top secret plan.” She warned the cat-woman, as her gray furred retainer left with a graceful bow, once again.
“Knights, Assemble!” She called into the garden’s predawn mist summoning her army to the king’s banner.
“Today, we face true danger. Some may nub make it out. Is we ready?” She asked her small squad of valiant warriors, armed with toy spears and tiny copies of the chief’s new oar-shields.
They answered by clattering spears against shields, raising a soft ruckus in the dark hours. They got shushed a lot for that by sleepy voices, but it was worth it.
“To battle!” Saphie whispered, as her troops tippie-toed away from the cranky aunties they’d disturbed before dawn.
/
Once again, Thera woke the two… Prisoners? Before dawn’s first light broke. She fed them another excellent and plentiful hot meal and bustled them by the baths, to the bamboo groves.
“Wait here, observe and be still.” She admonished them, among the stalks, leaves and steam.
Reggie and Mary sat and watched, as Thera joined the princes and her tiny brigade in a rather comprehensive set of calisthenics and stretching exercises, followed by a vigorous and entrancing dance of spears, led by… Reggie’s blood ran cold and his claw gripped Mary’s shoulder almost painfully, when he saw.
At some point a muscular green form had joined the lesson, and was leading the elegant, deadly performance in silence.
A veil of undyed cloth covered its face, but Reggie was certain; this was the terrible, nightmare beast that had slaughtered the master so casually and watched calmly as he fled.
Something had silenced the guard dogs and stilled the guards; just as someone had tossed the keys to their shackles out from the darkness, tied to a long strip of sheeting, so as to be more easily found…
Now here it was again, swaying to music only it heard, leading Thera and the children in their performance and exercises.
“Don’t move, don’t speak.” That warm, wizened and aged voice whispered softly behind them, as the witch’s claw slowly pulled Reggie’s grip off Mary.
“That is the goblin king, he is shy and strange, but will do you no harm. Watch and listen to him instruct the children.”
The monster sat on a round boulder that seemed ideal for the purpose and placed a flute of bone under its veil. Sweet and delicate music soared into the foggy, pre-dawn sky, hurled at the fading stars as if in challenge, daring them to linger and hold back the day.
The goblin children joined, wielding drums, flutes and singing nonsense words into the dying night.
Worry the bottle, Mama, It's grapefruit wine.
Kick off your high-heeled sneakers,It's party time.
The girls don't seem to care what's on.
As long as they play 'til dawn.
Nothin' but blues and Elvis, and somebody else's favorite song….
“Yes, odd, I know. None understand these words, or from whence they come. Princess Saphie dreams them and teaches the little ones.” Sarafina hissed with evil joy. “There is some occult magic in them that resists my every effort.”
“Wierd…” Mary sighed as she swayed side to side, following the strangely compelling song, led by a dangerous creature who seemed distinctly unserious...
/
In the large, open common room of the weird, primitive, but very elegant inn; the goblin king reclined on a pile of monster furs and complained at his gathered harem, children and servants.
“Sneaky sneaky!” The king scolded Saphie and her knights, waggling a taloned finger at them. “What if th..” He bit himself mid-word and doubled over in hilarious agony, while the runties giggled at their silly King-papa.
“What if they had panicked and fled into the wilds… The king wishes to demand.” Sarafina announced in a neutral tone from her seat beside the king.
“Which is a foolish question in any case, since they were unlikely to flee and completely surrounded by you harem, my king. Also, I was present. The only member of the tribe unaware of today’s plan was your royal stupid self.”
She bowed low and faced the floor. “Oh mighty king of the blockheads!”
Mary and Reggie both failed to contain gasps of mingled fear and amusement, as the king raged in silent pantomime, waggling fingers and scolding everyone, while holding a rag to his torn lip.
“King-papa is very smart, for someone so stupid. We has to lead him around lots.” Saphie muttered softly to her newest retainers.
“He was killin’ hisself tryin’ to keep you from seein’ him. Head of blocks, for sure.” That drew the king’s silent ire to the princess, rather than her servants; who seemed to escape his wrath entirely.
“Mary, Reggie, Thera. The king holds you free of any responsibility in this, as princess Saphie’s loyal retainers.”Sarafina translated for his majesty.
“Sapphire is, however in big-big trouble for making her servants frightened and disobeying the king. No sweets all day, for her… and her loyal knights.”
“Awww..” They moaned in chorus.
“Tomorrow will be a feast day, the king declares. In honor of our new members.” Sarafina intoned, nodding wisely as she spoke.
“Soon we shall have guests, the Violet clan visits in two day’s time.” She eyed the chief’s temporary workbench and inscribing table in the far corner of the chamber upstairs. “Come, we must go prepare, his majesty has much work to do.”
/
A runner from Violet arrived shortly after music lesson time that morning, while I was still trying to figure out what to do next. I’d been noodling for way too long, when that tired, sweaty and horny lady goblin ran in with a message from Violet and a jones for my bones.
They wanted more tummytime charms to trade with a sister tribe to the east and my girls wanted their coarse, warm rugs, woven of some kind of natural wool fiber. It was coarse and scratchy, but didn’t mildew, rot or develop odd smells when wet, so sure.
I planned to keep my eyes out for that source of wool, to cut out the middle-gob and produce our own ‘crabwool’ which was a weird name for a textile.
I drew a small sigil on my own belly with a brush made of my own hair, suspending Hessen’s failed curse for a while. I’d made Poppy wait until I finished scolding my family and retainers, before chasing them all out of the house, except my Emmie. Mostly ‘cause I was still cross with Violet and her clan…
Emmie had been so patient and sweet, she deserved a treat, so Poppy was gonna have to wait a little longer.
/
Reggie’s sensitive ears twitched and shook with nervous tension, when they all filed out into the garden, leaving the king alone with the small green woman with golden eyes.
Emmie seemed entirely unafraid of being alone with the creature, despite the smell of raging lust and ferocity he was emitting, but Reggie wanted to be far, far away from that monster with Mary… and Thera too, if he could manage it.
Now the sounds emerging from that Strange High House in the Mist made him even more certain that they must escape, somehow. That tiny, cheerful creature was being torn apart in there… Her death screams were muffled and faint, but heart-wrenching. Thank all the gods and spirits poor half-deaf, human Mary couldn’t hear.
The rabbit lad almost fainted, when Emmie staggered by a while later; having difficulty walking, but smiling like a child who’d just found where the sweets were hidden. She reeked of sex and absolute joy, so Reggie tried to pretend he didn’t notice.
\
“How unlikely…” Wheel muttered, as he glared at an inscrutable circle of rich dark earth that reeked of potential, possibilities and potency. On a windblown hillside, a mile or so from the shore and two miles from the wreckage, the huge and inexplicable patch of dark earth just was perfectly circular and absolutely weird as hell.
Wheel laid out a blanket in the center of the thing and began to shuffle his card slowly, while opening himself to the local energies. The magical field of this world was weak class D minus, maybe F plus. That explained why Necro and Strength couldn’t come to this blighted rock. None of the heavy hitters in the family could operate in low magic conditions.
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Even Greela the tigress needed at least a solid class D to use her powers. Which explained how the Light cult had kept the source of their goblin shock troops hidden so long.
Slowly he breathed in the local magic, letting it soak in and inform him of the how, why and what of it... And regretted that immediately. Misery draped the world like the fog did the coastline, coating it in a pall of pain, regret, anger and sex. And not the fun, let’s get naked and see what comes up, kind. It was all slap, no tickle. He laid out his first card and smiled.
The Lovers, of course. He’d just met that guy briefly and liked him, even if he was kinda odd. Naturally his aura was sticking.
Wheel shuffled the card back in, cleared his deck and his mind, before dipping back in and drawing a fresh card. The lovers, but not his new brother, the Lovers. This was the card, not the person.
“Huh.” He grunted and drew the next. Temperance… which was odd, because it fit right in. This was a person, not a card or confluence of events, someone who was near, dangerous, but restrained by discipline and reason. The Hermit appeared next, once more signifying a person, and an aspect of a drama too big to be contained in his ritual.
“Doubly odd and unlikely!” He whispered, as the Ten of Coins appeared. Another person, but distant, like a hint of sunrise, long before dawn. Much was awaiting the arrival of the Ten of Coins.
He grew excited when the Fool appeared in the next draw, the Fool had been hiding from him for centuries uncounted, always present on the edge of things, but never a central figure, now here he was, peering in from the future, not too far ahead. He was hiding, just behind the Ten of Coins! Wheel’s fingers trembled as he placed the long sought card down, only for it to snap in half in the most improbable manner. As he watched, the card… and the man it signified, came apart. First it halved, then quartered, continuing on and shredding itself into confetti under his unmoving finger… When he looked down, the Moon lay there, another person, beyond a doubt.
“Whoah… super weird.”
Slowly, he drew again, the Fool! Extatic, Wheel placed the card and drew again.
“The Fool?” He looked down and the card he’d just placed was gone.
Wheel of Fortune stood there… He did stand there, right there on the blanket, looking up at himself as he drew another card and placed it, seeming as tall as a mountain.
“Nobody told me about my nose hairs? Weak!”
/
“What’s that, Cavendish?” Peltier barked, when the outrider returned early.
“I dunno, rightly milord. A beggar or hermit squattin’ in the middle of one of yer circles of dirt, milord. Playin’ cards he is. Odd that.” The scout called, as he tended his mount. “Is a human man, methinks though dressed in slave rags.”
“Send four men to seize him… alive! I have questions and we need a sacrifice for our next ritual.” The inquisitor snapped. “Be swift, night is coming.”
Axelrod snapped to attention and nodded to his most reliable slave-takers. “Jenkins, you lead the squad. Take him how you will, at your discretion.”
“I’ve got a bit of red-leaf tincture. It’ll drop him hard and fast.” He grinned and chuckled. “Hangover’s bad, waking up hurts like dyin’ twice on a red-ant hill. He’ll scream and then talk.”
“Good man. Blessings of the sacred light on you!” Axelrod exclaimed, as his men slipped out into the woodlands.
A half hour later, Jenkins peered out at the idiot from the bushes, twenty yards away and aimed his blowpipe with care. He’d made a career of kidnapping for hire and pleasure as well; he knew his trade.
That’s why he didn’t curse or swear when his precious dart missed entirely. The damned moron bent over and picked up some small object, just as the envenomed thorn whipped silently past his ear.
“Oh! A teeny, tiny, ceramic dick! How cute!” He exclaimed cheerfully, as he pocketed whatever it was.
Jenkins loaded his last dart, the toxic drug gleaming with the promise of dreamless sleep and terrifying pain. He took great care with this one, nothing could…
/
Lewis almost lost it as Jenkins missed his first shot, he almost laughed. That cocky bastard was always so certain… The cudgel man watched in amazement as Jenkins bobbled his blowpipe and sucked his dart into his own damn mouth… The cocksure slaver passed out with the most embarrassed expression on his stupid face…
It was so improbable and farcical, he did laugh, which made his backup dart man, Tommy, fall out of his tree in surprise, onto Perkins, the net man, entangling them both in his webbing and breaking the enchanted epoxy globes woven in… Those two were going nowhere.
Lewis looked down at Tommy’s red-leaf dart, sticking from his own shoulder and managed to grunt half of a curse, before falling down unconscious.
/
Wheel strolled off into the woods, following his quarry across the trackless wilds, smiling with delight. “Probability is all fucked up around here… A guy could get hurt if he’s not careful!” He said to no one in particular as he left.
There were giant, venomous centipedes in these woods… Anybody stupid enough to just lay down and take a nap was going to have a rude awakening.
/
“Dead sir. All four. Looks like wildlife got ‘em.” Cochrane rumbled. “Cenepedes, sir, biggunz and deadly venomous. Whole nest of the bastards.”
“And the beggar?” Sir Axelrod asked, his heart sinking into his boots.
“The gods protect fools, milord. He’s headed nor’east., doesn’t seem tae even ken that he were followed.” The scout rumbled quietly.
“Take Cormac and follow him… at a distance. Do not allow yourselves to be seen. Send Cormac to fetch us when he stops for the night.” The exhausted knight whispered. “The lord inquisitor must not discover this, until we at least have a prisoner to put before him.”
/
The damned clown danced over streams on fallen logs that bore his weight, then collapsed at the first step of his pursuers. Brambles and berry canes seemed to sway aside for him, while thorns and nettles leapt out to greet the scouts at every turning and climb.
He leapt from one mossy, impossibly slick stone to another, whistling a merry tune; while the woods wise hunters struggled in his footsteps at every moment.
Inexhaustible and infuriating, he was having a grand adventure in the forest, while leeches, spiders, centipedes and skeeters swarmed in his wake.
/
“King-papa, humans in the woods!” Saphie called from the edge of the garden, where she and her runties were ‘posted’ on ‘guard duty’ as part of their punishment. That was wildly improbable, of course, but Saphie never lied, the little sneak. I dashed over, half blinded in the late evening sunshine, even through the thick clouds and fog.
“Where?” I demanded, perhaps a little sharply.
“Miss Magpie says they is on the other side of those hills, huntin’ each other…” She declared with maximum sincerity. “Jaybird told her so!”
“Magpie.” I said, very calmly.
“Yub-yub. She says Jaybird heard it from Raven.” She nodded, case closed. “We haveta go. Magpie says there’s bad men chasing an ookie-spookie man through the woods.”
“Ookie-spooky man?” I demanded, completely intrigued by now.
“Magpie says the ookie-spookie man is all glitter and sparkle, hiding a sharp, pointy stone. Peck him at your peril.” Saphie smiled and nodded, deeply satisfied with her reportage.
I had to know, so I covered my eyes as best I could, and still see, before heading out into the waning day.
/
Cormac lay on a game trail, half wound round with spider silk, his left foot swollen to the size of a suckling pig. The remnants of his boot still clung on, the laces cutting viciously into his purpling flesh as he writhed and moaned. “Cochran… fell down a crevasse, dead sir.” He gasped. “Trapdoor spider got me… damndest luck…”
“Sorry son. You have more work to do. Can’t carry on with that foot and his lordship needs to take a bearing.” The knight mage led the detail tasked with bringing his sacrifice to the ritual circle; while offering prayers to the Light for the weeping trooper’s soul.
/
Hop-scotch and Hide-n-go-seek with a pack of slavers and cultists in the dangerous and deadly woods was one thing, this was a different game entirely. Death was a part of the wilderness, neither good nor evil, just a fact; but ritual sacrifice… Poor form! One must play according to Hoyle!
Wheel slipped through the gathering dark, following his own backtrail in reverse through the wilds without looking, which was super improbable indeed.
Each step that landed precisely and exactly where he’d stepped before, with identical force, direction and duration was almost impossible and deeply fortunate. He just kept coming up sixes and sevens!
/
Judgement pulled his warhammer out of what was left of captain Ingersoll of the slave ship Light’s Breeze and spat. It was never satisfying. Stomping roaches like Ingersoll and his crew, while real monsters operated with impunity. The Light cult’s leadership were entirely one kind of immortal, demonic, undying or undead creature or another. Body controlling slug parasites were a constant problem, as were liches, vampires and all manner of lesser undead.
Judgement watched the corpse sink into the imaginary waters of the void, his mortal form dissolving in the space between worlds, as the ship sailed on to its port of call in Fairemeade. He had business there too, since he was already headed that way.
“Staying for the whole ride, Greela?” He asked the blood drenched tigress. “Fairemeade is a big sex slave hub… I have some nails to hammer down there.”
“I was thinking of helping Necro with your problem… I can deal with a low magic world for a good cause.” She growled softly. “Goblins are delicious.”
“I’d be grateful for the competent help. He sent some clown there. Some idiot he knows from way back. Senile and daft if you ask me.” Judgement grumbled sourly.
“Not the Wheel?” She asked carefully, pausing in the midst of cleaning her toe-beans.
“You know that doofus?” He asked wearily, over the noise of the panicked slaves in the hold.
“If he turned the Wheel out for you, I won’t bother. We can kick the shit out of slavers with a song in our hearts.” She purred happily. “Inexorable as the sea and as unpredictable as a summer storm. Stand well clear of the Wheel, younger brother. He always comes up aces.”
“You too?” Judgment grumbled. “Seems unlikely.”
/
Axelrod cursed and spat, when a wild boar with a frenzied squirrel clinging to its back, charged through his ritual circle at a critical moment, trampled his sacrifice to death with a few quick stomps and gored DeHavviland in the belly, before vanishing into the bush with a shrill squeal of terror and the squirrel’s mad, chittering cry.
“That seemed improbable…” Axelrod sighed, as DeHavviland fell silent, his blood staining the soil with Cormac’s… Uselessly.
/
The cards suggested that he and Temperance were not fated to meet at this juncture of the odds… though it would be close.
He slipped through the woods in silence, approaching the camp he sought, guided by a crystal pendant containing the tears of a possessed albacore tuna. Those were hard to acquire indeed! In a shady little dale, surrounded by the most remarkable garden stood the oddest thing.
If Fred Flintstone took Wilma to an anime onsen for some steamy fan-service fun, this would be the place. The windows were of unplaned planks and sticks, paned with thin scraped rawhide. The roof tiles were unglazed and primitive and the stonework lacked refinement, but it looked cozy, comfy and most of all it felt like home.
The half wild garden around the place was so inviting and looked idyllic, even with a small village of greenskins roaming around.
That was the strangest part, it was all women, no males at all. Around three dozen gobbos, just living life, weaving baskets, stringing beads, chatting and cooking around that crazy house.
Even in his long life, Wheel had never seen a female goblin… ever. No one had. And social goblins? That was crazy! They only came together in blood mad swarms under the leadership of something nastier and only stayed together as long as the bigger nasty kept control. They didn’t just hang out, tiddies dangling, weaving baskets and talking.
Reality reasserted itself, when he spotted a cat woman slinking along, dragging four feet of cursed iron chain behind her. That was what he expected to see. She looked deeply uncomfortable and was leading his objective toward the house.
There was another prisoner he would do his best to scoop up, but life is a game of odds and hostage extraction was a chancy proposition. Fate could be fickle.
“Luck, be a lady, tonight!” He whispered to Frankie, somewhere out there in the void.
/
“Come inside, children. The king is on about some dangerous work and we must be ready to flee, if things go badly.” Thera whispered, as the goblins calmly and quietly prepared to leave.
“We eat, dress for travel and you stay close to me. Whatever happens, stay close to me.”
“What’s happening, Thera?” Mary whispered, her fear poorly hidden.
“There are strange men in the hills. One is spying on this house, even now.” She answered quietly. “Do not reveal that we are under observation. Try to behave normally.”
“How can we do that? There’s a strange man watching!” Mary demanded hotly, until Reggie hugged her close.
“Well be fine, Mary.” He whispered the lie, so she wouldn’t hear his voice tremble.
/
Those three prisoners were terrified, urging him to act; perhaps imprudently.
What were the odds the weird little inn would have a back door into an unoccupied basement and a hatch leading up to right where those three slaves were preparing their own escape? They looked up from gathering supplies for the road, when he popped up through that unlikely and unlocked hatchway.
“Fancy the odds of that, it’s a rescue, right on time.” He whispered to the wide eyed prisoners. “I’m the Wheel of Fortune and today is your lucky day, kids.”
/
Mary stifled a scream, poor Reggie jumped so high, he hit his head on a ceiling beam and landed in a dazed heap. Thera’s tail became the floofiest brush that ever washed a bottle, when a mad eyed, smiling man popped up from the workshop hatch and started babbling nonsense.
A moment later, he yelped in pain and fell back down the hatchway into a swarm of tiny goblin knights.
/
“Kill?” Crys asked softly
“Nub. Is silly man, nub bad man.” Saphie insisted. “Poke butt, nub butt-hole. Prank, nub murder.” She followed up, by jabbing her toy spear into the man’s butt-cheek with gusto.
Goblin ‘toy spears’ are still dangerous, jagged, flint tipped, primitive murder machines. They were just painted fun colors and decorated with beads so they would rattle in the spear-dance. That was big-big fun!
The silly-man fell down among them, clutching his bottom and staring at his adorable assailants in wonder, amusement and something deeply deranged.
Perhaps it was delight at experiencing something incredibly unlikely and entirely new, in all human experience.
/
