Twains Big Day Out

Tiptoing through the bluebells, Twain quietly crept into Lady Oktobers humble abode. Actually this was an understatement. It was an absolute tip, looked like a bomb had gone off with no survivors to tidy up.  Even an insurance evaluator could have been fooled into believing this house had been broken into. Though they were all in the slow cooker on the sideboard.

The walls were caked in oil and grease and the woodchip was slowly peeling away. Twain secretly liked to pick at the woodchip when nobody was looking. The feeling of the wood flaking underneath his claws was somewhat comforting to him, he didn’t care if he’d be strung up for doing it because he knew one day that there would be no woodchips left and he’d be able to rest in peace.  Anybody else would have painted over it or upgraded to something slightly modern but Lady Oktober had really let the place go.There were empty test-tubes, half filled test-tubes and a rainbow of ooze on the floor.

There were cobwebs and jars of lizards with their gizzards hanging out because the jar had not been secured properly. Probably due to Lady Oktobers long nails, they must have been about 100 years old.  A newt with his face pressed up against the jar was Twains favorite though.  If there were ever a poster urging you to fight for freedom, this newt should be on it.

Retiring to his old resting place, a blue woven mat next to the cauldron which was strangely bubbling away still. 

Dreaming of a PC world, he was rudely awakened by a vile long knobbly finger.  “Oi, pest” it was Lady Oktober, she had finally returned from being held up at The Sad Spider.  “You good for nothing mog, I’ve been at that tavern for 6 months now because of those pesky crows. I thought cats chased birds, you made no effort to get my ring back whatsoever! I had to use my brains in the end and the help of some useless old soul. We tricked them good though Twain, they’re unlikely to be showing their beaky  faces again anytime soon, out of sheer embarrassment if anything” she cackled in a way that only a witch could.

“So what tricks have you been up to then Twain, while I’ve been away? Have you been keeping a watch over the dwarfs at the vera plant factory?”

“No” he replied. “I’ve been waiting here patiently for you to come and feed me, the ringpull on the tins of cat food are rather difficult to open when you don’t have thumbs.”

“You sarcastic little sourpuss” she roared “I shall turn you into something different, something amphibious like a.. like a  frog, only less cliche though.” She paused while the cogs turned “A platypus, I shall turn you into a duck billed platypus!”

“A Platypus is not an amphibian” replied Twain. “Lays eggs don’t it?” said the ghastly witch. “Yes” sighed Twain. “However, the young feed off the mothers milk, that is the difference between a mammal and an amphibian”

“Perhaps it’s time I traded you in for something with a little less cheek.” Said Lady Oktober in a threatening manner “Something bigger that I can ride around on, the broomstick is a little cliche don’t you think?” Twain shrugged his shoulders, he was a talking cat after all.

“Having a pet is a big responsibility” said Twain “You have to feed them, pet them occasionally and constantly reassure them of how pretty they are, I suspect this is why I have an inferiority complex”

“Interior what?” quizzed the witch. “What’s wrong with the interior? This is a palace, it’s your privilege to be living here. I see you’ve been at the woodchip again Twain!” she wagged her finger before the profanities began to roll of her tongue like slicken black stinking tar”

Lady Oktober took to her place of rest, it was a hammock in the corner of the room which was clinging to the wall by staples no less.

She had a long evening ahead, there were at least 15 dragons tied up in nets in the forest, this was just an estimate as she’d flown in past them. The pools needed re-filling and the liquid was stewing in the cauldron.

Twain coughed up a large furball, he was tired of being a cat, he was tired of being the witches cat.

He often thought about his previous life as the kings magician.  The merry nights of comfort courtesy of the south.  All he was chasing these days were mice and occasionally birds (no crows though)

It was almost impossible to break the spell alone, with others though, it was perhaps possible. An interesting thought for him to brood over. Where there’s a will there’s always a way right? Wrong! When you’re a cat anyway.

He crept out of the shack but not before giving it one last look over, there’s nothing he would miss here except perhaps the woodchip. Hardly worth staying for though.

As he slinked through the woodland, he heard a sound loud enough to be a series of loud footsteps.  He took cover halfway up a tree and kept himself poised and ever so still.  Bumbling through the brambles, the group looked flushed and agitated. Fyn best down as best as a unicorn could and tried to take a sip from the pool.  “I wouldn’t do that!” snapped Twain “And I suppose this is The Chameleon taking form as a cat this time is it?” scoffed Fyn “It’s about time you showed your face”

He’d mistaken Twain for The Chameleon, though he was sure to correct him. Why would The Chameleon want to take shape as a cat, he’d only been a cat for a short time and he despised it already.

Milo was quick to pipe up.

“A talking mog with your coat of black, we have ventured for days going forwards and back. Have you a clue you can share today, to lift the curse The Chameleon did lay?”

“Basically, we need some advice.” Interrupted Fyn “We know we’re supposed to be going to the Heliotrope lagoon for a few samples but we don’t know exactly what for and how it is going to help us lift the curse The Chameleon has placed on us.”

Twain sniggered, what a sense of humour The Chameleon did have.

“Settle down you pair” said Twain. “Oh there are 3 of us” said Fyn, holding up the wooden lamp. Twain flinched, it looked familiar. Out popped Mr. Bo.

“If you pipe down, I will try my best to explain the situation. He went on to explain how he’d once been the great magician Twain, loved and respected by many, especially Old King Merlot and his Queen, Lady Mildred. Once particular night of merriment, there had been too much cheer and Lady Oktober had snook into the castle. Twain had been incapacitated and she cast a spell on him, turning him into a feline. She had kidnapped the queen and stashed her somewhere dark and dank probably.  She had employed a black knight to keep the king in check so he could leave his castle and his servants had been transformed into dwarfs who now operated the Vera plant factory in the castles dungeons.  The Vera plant was a good source of income for Lady Oktober.

“So the plant doesn’t really tame the dragons then?” quizzed Fyn “She’s just selling them as placebos?”

“Yes” replied Twain “Though the people are naive enough to buy them every day”

“And the pools..?” asked Fyn.

“It’s a potion, riddled with spells. It’s colour imitates the heliotrope lagoon, this is why the dragons cannot resist it. Even the tiniest sip will give them brainfreeze rendering them with as much killer instinct than your average domestic pet.  It’s all about money” he continued “It’s always been about money and partly control also. Having control of such a ferocious beast, it’s no wonder they’re becoming a sought after pet”

“Lady Oktober wears a ring on her left ring finger, without it she is no more powerful that you or I.  If I could get a hold of the ring or maybe destroy the witch herself then the spell will be broken for sure. Look I know the route fairly well as I have journeyed to Dragons Cove before with Lady Oktober.  I have no intention of going back to her. Maybe we could take the trip together”

The group thought for a moment. “Looks like we have found our 4 person” said Mr. Bo

“Well, not exactly, my curse wasn’t placed by The Chameleon so there must be another that you have yet to meet.” Confirmed Twain.

There was clapping coming from behind a rock, it was The Chameleon, he had been listening to the whole conversation.

“He took off his hat and tipped it towards Twain “Good evening Twain, we meet again. Tell me, how was your loaf?”

“Rather stale actually but I appreciated the gesture” he replied.

“You men and I use the term loosely, can learn much from this feline unless your ego’s get in the way of course. Just incase Twain hasn’t made it clear enough. What you must do now is make your way to Dragons Cove, obtain samples from the Heliotrope Lagoon and figure out a way to rescue these dragons from this zombie nation they’re becoming. Rescuing the King and Queen will win you bonus points of course” He winked at Twain.

“Oh.. There will be another along shortly too and you’re really going to like this one. I met him not long ago. His name is Niggling Nigel” he vanished in a puff of smoke.

Reviews

[Clayton Bardwell]

It must be difficult to write fantasy without seeming silly. Keeping track of the characters not of the human kind would likely be confusing too. Good work.