Comedic Fantasy Bundle #1: 4 Hilarious Adventures (Tales from the land of Ononokin)

by John P. Logsdon

  Gungren reached out.

  It fizzled.

  It popped.

  It whirred.

  It went dim.

  They were still standing in Gorgan. Whizzfiddle grunted and patted Gungren on the head, giving him points for at least trying.

  “Sir,” Zel said, barely above a whisper. “What about using magic to power it now that the lights are on?”

  “Yes, yes,” Whizzfiddle agreed. “I shall. I just do so despise using magic for such trivial things.”

  He emptied the flask, cast a spell, and motioned Gungren to try again.

  A SEAT, IF YOU PLEASE

  Treneth repacked his fingernails, donned his gloves, grabbed the guild book of regulations, and skipped off to Muppy’s estate. He’d never skipped a day in his life, but the mental ecstasy of what was to come was overwhelming.

  The day was just beginning to brighten as Treneth came around to sit on a white picket bench in Muppy’s garden.

  She had a most deft gardener, by Treneth’s estimation.

  The bushes were trimmed at right angles near the walkway, rounded for balance at the corners; flowers poked about in a variety of shades and hues; the grass edgings were immaculately shaped; and the entire area smelled fresh and lovely, as long as Treneth kept his hands downwind.

  He had considered waiting out front, but he knew how wizards thought. Sneaking out the back was their modus operandi.

  It would be a pleasure catching her with her pants down, in a manner of speaking.

  Treneth pulled out his pocket watch and flicked back its golden cover. The timepiece had been a gift from his father on the day that he had been handed off to Whizzfiddle for his apprenticeship. He had often desired to crush the watch to a pulp but decided that there was no point in punishing an inanimate object for the proverbial hell that his former master had put him through.

  Muppy burst out the back door, pulling Rimpertuz behind her as he hastened to button his shirt.

  Right on time.

  “Now listen,” she was saying to Rimpertuz, “you were not here. Understand?”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Rimpertuz. You were not here and you’ve never been here.”

  Rimpertuz sagged. “I understand.”

  “Ah,” Treneth said, striding up the walkway. “There you are, my apprentice.”

  “Oh shi—”

  “Indeed,” Treneth said, looking at his fingers. “I would say the term is a fitting one, Madam Councilwoman.”

  “You’ve set me up.”

  Treneth ignored the comment.

  “I’m sure the esteemed chair of the Wizards’ Guild council is well aware of the rules concerning relations with apprentices?” Treneth pulled out the book of regulations and opened it to his bookmarked section. “My bookmark just happened to fall on the very page in question,” he added with an astonished look. “That is a stroke of serendipity, wouldn’t you say?”

  “He’s your apprentice. Not mine.”

  “It says here that wizards and apprentices are disallowed to engage in any relations outside of the professional realm.”

  “Like I said, he’s not my apprentice.”

  “True, true,” Treneth said. “Well, then, I guess there is nothing further to be concerned with. Except...” he ran a gloved finger across the page. “Tsk, tsk,” Treneth looked up sadly. “It seems that is not an acceptable defense, madam. There’s a line entered in the margin, signed off by the current guild, including yourself, that removes that specificity.”

  “You bastard,” Muppy said with a growl. “You brought that to the council just a few weeks ago. You knew you were going to do this!”

  Treneth did his best to look taken aback, but on the inside his skipping continued.

  “Madam,” he said with feigned surprise, “I assure you that I was merely searching out my apprentice.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I was worried. He is usually toiling in the fields much earlier than this.”

  “So the most logical place for you to search was my house?”

  “That’s correct. The events of last evening did rather suggest he could be here.”

  Muppy’s eyes darted around and she turned to Rimpertuz. “Did anything happen between us last night?”

  Rimpertuz looked at her and then at Treneth.

  “Don’t look at him,” she said, grabbing Rimpertuz by his face. “Did anything happen last night?”

  “I...I think so.”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “I would appreciate you not taking that tone with my apprentice,” Treneth said. “Besides, madam, it appears that you do not know either.”

  She hissed and bared her teeth and then took a step toward Treneth. Her eyes had turned a terrifying shade of red.

  “What do you want?” she asked, poking him in the chest.

  He backed away, rubbing his sternum. She had quite a poke.

  “I beg your pardon, madam. I find offense in this entire matter.” He continued rubbing. “You are the one engaged in shady activities here. To include me as being part of your ilk—”

  “What...”

  She poked him again.

  “Do...”

  Another poke.

  “You...”

  Harder this time, and on the nose.

  “Want?”

  “A seat on the council!”

  “Done.”

  Treneth gawked. He had taken weeks to build his discussion points, fully expecting a round of debate. Hours and hours went into building a veritable chess match of dialog, arguments, and counterarguments. Not being able to fully engage was disheartening.

  Then again, she just agreed to giving him a seat on the council.

  “Now,” she poked him once more, “get off my property before I rip you to shreds.”

  “Very well,” Treneth said as he tried to contain his mirth. “Come along, Rimpertuz. We have work—”

  “He will be returned to you when I’m done with him.”

  Both Treneth and his apprentice looked askance.

  “Get in the house, Rimpertuz,” she said intensely, pointing at the door. “If I’m going to be charged for having relations with an apprentice, I’m damn well going to have relations with an apprentice.”

  THE CENTERFOLD

  LaHott hadn’t exactly been teeming with ladies the night before.

  As was Winchester’s luck lately, it had been gentleman’s night at the club, which meant the ladies stayed away. One plus was that he was able to save a gold on the cover charge; the other was that he’d found a model.

  Tazdoreena was scrawny and a little long in the face, but she was willing to do nude photography. At this point that outweighed looks. If nothing else, she was an orc.

  “Blerg,” he said, “could you check on Oknot and make sure that all the cameras and lights are set up properly? I still have one more tweak to this layout before I’ll be ready to start filming.”

  “Got it.”

  Try as he might, Winchester just couldn’t bring the layout together. He had studied quite a few newspapers and magazines to see where the successes and failures were. Content may be king, but only if the content was clear and pleasantly laid out. He shrugged. It was far from perfect, but it would have to suffice for the first issue.

  He put on his little red velvet robe, carefully tucked his wounded tail, and strolled out to the set.

  This was his day.

  “We gots a problem,” Blerg said.

  “Don’t we always? What is it this time?”

  Blerg motioned for Winchester to walk around the corner to the set.

  He found Tazdoreena standing in the nude with a camera dangling around her neck. She truly wasn’t centerfold material, at least not to his discerning eye. He could only hope that she would stand passable for the pages of PlayDragon.

  “Good day, Tazdoreena,” Winchester said.

  “Yeah,” she said with a grunt and then snapped a photo. “We going
to do this shoot thing or what?”

  “We are,” he stated. “If you would just put the camera back on the tripod and move over to the bed, we’ll get the fans and lighting going straight away.”

  Tazdoreena looked confused.

  “How am I supposed to do nude photography if I don’t have a camera?”

  “Pardon me?”

  The ogres backed away. Winchester rolled his eyes.

  “You said last night that you wanted me to do nude photography,” Tazdoreena answered. “I thought it was weird, but I’ve been asked to do stranger things.”

  “Heh,” he said, slapping his knee. “There has been a miscommunication. You are in the nude, yes?”

  She looked down at herself and then back at him as if he were stupid.

  “Right,” said Winchester. “The photography we are to engage in is of me photographing you in the nude.”

  “So you’re going to take pictures of me while you’re nude?”

  “What? No, no, no.” He waved his hands. “You’ll stay nude and lay yourself on that bed there, posing in various provocative ways, right?”

  “Okay,” she said at length.

  “I’ll stand over here with the camera and will give you directions as to how to move and what facial expressions to have. As you do this, I’ll take photos for my new magazine.”

  “So you want me be a nude model.”

  “I believe that’s what I explained last evening.”

  “That changes everything,” Tazdoreena said, snatching up her clothes. “Not doing it.”

  Winchester rushed over to Tazdoreena before she could get to the door.

  “Is it the pay?”

  “The pay?” she said, scoffing. “It’s the principle. I’m not going to be some floozy that gets all naked for a silly magazine.”

  “PlayDragon is not a silly magazine,” he said with his teeth slightly bared.

  She just blinked impassively at him.

  “Fine,” he said, turning on his dragon cunning. “Leave then.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll just find someone else to be the first woman to be photographed for the soon-to-be largest publication to fine gentlemen in all of the Underworld.”

  “Good. You do that.” Tazdoreena turned the handle and then paused. “The what?”

  “Yes,” Winchester said, sauntering away. “Ononokin will have another famous lady, known from one end of the continent to the other. It need not be you.”

  He gestured for her to leave.

  “Please don’t let me stand in the way of your career as a...what was it again?”

  “Dental assistant,” she muttered.

  “Yes, that’s right. A dental assistant.” (For all their faults, orcs, ogres, and trolls had some of the nicest sets of pearly whites in all of Ononokin.) “That does sound far more appealing than having every wealthy suitor in the land knocking at your door,” Winchester said sarcastically.

  “I still get the two gold we agreed upon?”

  “For leaving? I should say not.”

  “No,” Tazdoreena said, stripping down. “I’m not leaving, lizard. I’m going to be famous. Now get the fans rolling and let’s do this.”

  “Well,” Winchester replied, “if you insist.”

  THE NEW ADDITION

  The council room was a wreck.

  The archery class had finished minutes before the wizards took over the room. The students never bothered to pick up after themselves, so arrows and throwing knives littered the floor and a spattering of dust hung in the air. It was all Treneth could do to keep from sneezing.

  As soon as he was named chair of this wretched guild, things would change. He would either have this place kept tidy or he would find a new auditorium. His target was an organization worthy of true wizards, assuming he could find any.

  “…and so,” Muppy was saying as if eating a lemon, “it is my recommendation that Treneth of Dahl be added as a full-time member of the council.”

  Zotrinder’s jaw was slack and Ibork was, for the first time that Treneth had ever witnessed, at a loss for words.

  “Huh?” the Croomplatt twins chimed, making a slight departure from their normal response.

  Treneth had fully expected this reaction. It was no secret that he was disliked. He was a man of action. Wizards preferred inaction, as a general rule. He was confident that the motion would get passed, though. After all, Muppy’s reputation was at stake.

  “Who has been managing the legal house for the last five years?” She said with a twitch. Nobody answered. “How many of you have participated in the scholastic programs at Blitlaray’s Magic Academy?”

  Treneth watched their faces. They all avoided looking at each other and none would look at him or the chairperson. Muppy was doing well so far.

  “I think it’s clear that Treneth of Dahl has earned a seat amongst his...peers.”

  “Ha,” the chorus was well subdued.

  “Unless there are any objections, and unless there is a volunteer for the plethora of jobs that he handles, I move for the acceptance of Treneth of Dahl as full member of the council.”

  There were no objections. There were no acceptances either, but that wasn’t a requirement of guild process.

  Treneth found that he was the only one smiling. So be it, he thought.

  He adopted a more professional look and moved to the front wall where Muppy stood.

  “Treneth of Dahl,” she said, looking more through him than at him, “do you swear to abide by the rules of the council?”

  “I do.”

  “He’ll be the first.”

  “Shut up, Ibork,” Zotrinder said.

  “Ha.”

  Muppy cleared her throat. “Will you continue to oversee the legal house duties and see to the academy’s needs?”

  Treneth wanted to rebuke the requirement. It was not an enforceable rule. Clearly none of the other members were subject to such tidings. But, considering it gave him more control, he saw no harm in it.

  “I will,” he replied smoothly.

  “Then we accept you as a member of the council of the Wizards’ Guild, effective on this day. May whichever of The Twelve you believe in, if any, watch over any decisions you make on behalf of wizards in this land.”

  Treneth stood and adjusted his lapel.

  “I just want to say that—”

  “No speeches today,” said Muppy, cutting him off. “You may have the seat next to councilman Zotrinder.”

  “Why me?” Zotrinder said.

  Treneth took a deep breath and calmed himself. Then he circled around to his seat. He sighed as Zotrinder leaned as far away as possible to the opposite side of his chair.

  Only one more step to go and Treneth would be the leader of this guild.

  Muppy had proven that she was not a worthy opponent. She would be on guard from this point on, for certain, but one day she would slip up or get lax. On that day, Treneth would make his move.

  In due time, he told himself.

  Vigilance and patience.

  MUGGING A WIZARD?

  Wimat Station was classy compared to Aopow. Travelers flowed in from Xarpney and Dakmenhem in the Underworld, two of the wealthier lands, so special attention was made on keeping the station clean and accessible.

  Shops and restaurants covered the three-story complex. Sales signs, discounts, and a plethora of special offers littered the windows. Anything one could imagine, one could get at this plaza, even if it meant having to order it through Xarpney.

  One of the nicest bits for Whizzfiddle was the electromagnetic field was kept in check. This made magic allowable. Station security was clear that it should only be used in self-defense, and they had placed sensors throughout the complex. After what had happened in Aopow it was good to have his power accessible.

  Whizzfiddle marched to an information booth and snatched a map before heading toward the eatery.

  “I’m assuming you’ve each got enough left in your pockets to furnish your
selves with food.”

  He didn’t bother to await a response. Instead, he found a table near the back corner of the room and began running his finger across the connecting lines to the station. They had to get to Dakmenhem to pick up Winchester, and then he would jump them over to Civen Station. That would give a direct link into Kek. It would have been easier had Gungren not put them on the detour to Gorgan, but the past was the past. This new route would have to do.

  He spotted Zel and Orophin ordering at one of the fast food establishments, McKorgnal’s. Bekner and Gungren were milling about in front of Bugner Queen. They looked confused.

  Whizzfiddle sighed.

  He was certain they could all read. The issue was that in order to compete with the classier restaurants on Wimat, the fast food joints used menu names that were confusing to the working class. “Chicken de Sorteni” and “Beef Froopahn” were Whizzfiddle’s personal favorites. These were better known as chicken on a stick and beef on a bun, respectively.

  He turned his attention back to the map when a shadow approached.

  “You Whizzfiddle?” A voice asked.

  Whizzfiddle held up a finger to signify he needed a moment.

  “So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” The voice said and a chair was kicked over.

  Whizzfiddle looked at his finger. Wrong one again.

  “Looks like we got a tough guy, fellas.”

  “No, no,” Whizzfiddle said, tucking the map away casually. “Just a simple misunderstanding.” He closed up his backpack. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

  The one with the eye patch moved in close. “Why don’t you come with us so’s we can show you?”

  Whizzfiddle smiled and reached into his robe to pull forth his flask.

  “Uh uh,” Eyepatch said, taking the bottle from Whizzfiddle. “We know about you, wizard.”

  “Well,” Whizzfiddle replied, “it seems you have me at a disadvantage, sir.”

  “Oh, that we do,” Eyepatch said. “Eh boys?”

  The ruffians chuckled.

  Whizzfiddle scratched his beard for a moment. “It seems we have a bit of a dilemma, gentlemen.”