The Dangers of TransLocate #2

[-Lacie-]

(Ok, well I just can't leave you hanging. The Dreamers of this City deserve to know what happens next, so here's part two. Umm, this one... is NOT for a quest, just personal satisfaction and popular demand.)

DaisyMay and Sir Slicer were so relieved to see Sir Drake’s return to the top of the Mountain. A long trek, but Sir Drake just wasn’t in the mood to TransLocate, his headache quite maddening after the recent separation and subsequent reunion. He had dust on the bottom of his trousers and mud on his otherwise pristine boots. His hair was a tuff of tangles and had odd particles protruding from all sides. Cascara Buckthorn was the first to see Sir Drake though, and just ~had~ to speak up loudly.

“Where the hell have you been? You’re a complete wreck! We at war again???” looking at him hopefully, one hand on a Chakram.

“Look TreeGirl, go root somewhere and leaf me alone!”

“He’s back! And he’s ok!” she proclaimed while scowling at Sir Drake.

“I got lost in the Ossuary. It’s a helluva walk from the Unknown back home. I think they should mark the path through those wretched planes, so people know how to get OUT of them!” He tried unsuccessfully to get the dust off his trousers with one then the other boot, eventually bending over to smack each leg’s cuff with his hands.

Shank was listening, not believing his ears. “They don’t have paths to get through the Outer Planes?”

“No, you dull blade, that’s why they call them the ‘Outer Planes’."

DaisyMay was standing close to Sir Slicer, watering can in hand. “He’s more grumpy than usual. Think he’s really alright?” she whispered to Sir Slicer. Slicer had lowered himself to the ground, taking his boots off to reveal his leaf-shaped feet … the stench permeating around the area enough so that DaisyMay’s dress-petals were starting to wilt. “I’m not sure. He sure is more irritable.”

“Look LeafFeet … I can hear you from over here. If you have a question, ask!” Sir Drake’s fingers were now stuck in his knotted up hair, trying to smooth out the tangles. About this time, Peridot comes out, her bag of hair care products labeled 'Sir Drake use ONLY' in her hand.

“Get over here, Ruby, and give me that detangle stuff. And do you have any more Grecian Formula 9000 in that stupid bag of yours? I think I see a gray hair in this crow’s nest.” He looks up at this point, holding a single silver hair by the end. “And where’s that Willy guy… Wally, whatever his name is?”

Cascara just ~had~ to chime in. Sir Drake’s constant misnames of her were just too good to pass up when applied to another. “You mean Wonky, don’t you, boss? Maybe I should get the name tags back out, so you remember who we are. And that’s Peridot with the hair care products. What’s wrong with you? You have your brain back in. You didn’t put it in upside down … did you?” again looking very hopeful at him.

“Look Weeping Willow … I’ve had a long dream, I’m tired and dirty. I just want to detangle and smooth out my hair, take a bath in the pool, put on clean clothing and…”

At this point the room went dead quiet. NOONE used that pool and EVERYONE knew why not! The smell from Sir Slicer’s feet was always enough to remind ~everyone~ what that pool was for! Peridot was squirting different gooey substances into Sir Drake’s hair, trying to comb out the knots and debris from his recent excursion, causing Sir Drake to moan low and even growl as a particular tangle was tackled.

“Hold still and quit being like Joe Order. Such a baby.” The bottle of green goo made a rather loud, obnoxious noise, sounding more like flatulence than product application, making Cascara snicker into her hand.

“His name is Wonky, and we haven’t seen him since…..” DaisyMay seemed the only one who attempted to overlook the odd conversation and try to stay on topic. About the time things got back to a ‘normal’ topic, the familiar jingle of Jean Lefitte’s gold-laden boots were heard. DaisyMay slapped her hand on her forehead, her efforts thwarted again.

“Ahoy, Mateys! Oh! Sir Drake! You’ve lived thru ye trials & tribulations in the Great Unknown and live to fight another day! Glorious! And none the worse fer wear! Excellent!” They all stopped what they were doing to look from Jean to Sir Drake and back again, obviously not seeing things the same way Lefitte saw them.

Sir Drake looked up from his dusty attire long enough to see the smears of lipstick on Lefitte’s cheek. “Been slapping around the wenches at the Tavern again, LeFitte? Those barmaids are going to permanently ban you from there if you don’t stop smacking them on their tuffs!”

“But their tuffs just beg to be smack’d, y’see! What kinda pirate would I be if’n I didn’t smack a few now and then??? Asides, the barkeep be a personal friend o’mine, and brib…. pays me tribute e’erytime I grace the establishment!”

Maverick put down his overly large sandwich, which had kept him content to this point. He couldn’t stand LeFitte, and would totally enjoy slapping him with that sandwich, except for the fact that the action would be considered abuse to the sandwich. “Wonky and I have seen what you do in that Tavern, LeFitte, and you should be ashamed of yourself!”

Sir Drake’s hair was much smoother and more like his normal style, although Peridot did have to work with his cowlick more than usual. “Wonky! That’s his name! Where is he? I need him to look into this Art! This TransLocate is screwed up and he needs to do something about it!”

A series of gasps spread through the gathering at Sir Drake’s suggestion. The last time Wonky ‘worked’ on something, he blew himself up, made a horrible mess in the room he was working in and took days to put things back to right by the entire group.

The ever-eager Shank decided to pick up the gauntlet at this point. “I’ll fix it! I can do anything I put my mind to, they tell me!” Maverick was beside himself at this point and slapped Shank with the sandwich, starting to whimper as different slices of red meat and odd, stinky cheeses fell to the ground. He quickly picked up the pieces and looked at Shank, “Look what you made me do! That’s Food Abuse!”

“This Art has to do something more than what the old-farts tell us it does and I’m going to find out what!” Sir Drake proclaimed in his bellowing voice, which made his brain start to throb again.

Tune in next week as the saga continues....