CHAPTER 2: The Rescue Of Wacko The Ninja Gargoyle

By King Louis and Wacko

The man was dressed in simple black clothes for the task he was about to undertake. He melted in the shadow as if he was born of it, leaning casually on the outer court wall he had just penetrated. His usual garb would definitely not have been a good idea for what he had in mind. For that same reason, his gold and jewel encrusted mithril armor, that had become over the long years a second skin, had to remain behind for stealth was more crucial than protection. Stealth was his only protection, his best line of defense. Still, he did not part from his best friend, a long yard of enchanted mithril strapped to his back, forged in the dawn of time when the gods still walked amongst our ancestors from time to time, by the best dwarven mithrilsmiths, enchanted by the mightiest of elven weaponsmiths, rarely matched in all the realms.

Though none would have suspected this man with his imposing physique of being capable of moving secretly as thus, he was like the wind, passing swiftly, silently, unseen. From alcove to alcove, from room to anteroom, from secret passage to the hidden shadows of an unsuspected tapestry he made his way without disturbing the bored guards, posted there by a line of officers used to performing tasks without questions and without enthusiasm.

His informant had really made a good description with maps and sketches of the place. Our shadow thus made his way rapidly from what appeared to be a private salon, next to the Throne Room, to the lower level of the Castle BlakSöl. His goal was his business alone, yet a quick mind could well decipher his plans: find and deliver his old friend, held prisoner. This was his best course of action for now: With this friend and a handful of faithful adventurers, he could hope to finally oppose the Evil threat. His friend might already be dead, but he couldn't know until he reached him. He had no choice, he had to learn and face the truth. In any case, he would at least bring back his bones to rest among the Heroes of the Realms.

His goal was fast approaching as the lower dungeons where his friend was supposedly held captive was just around the last bend of the corridor. As he cautiously peered around the corner, he was shocked. This had been easy so far, maybe even too easy, and of course he expected the dungeons to be guarded, but nothing could have prepared his mind for so stunning a shock: Liches ! Where were the guards ? Who could have enlisted such creatures ?

Yet this man had seen his fair share of evil beings and had a good répertoire of magical fights. Overcoming his initial shock he started to make plans. He knew what he had to do, and he had to be quick about it else those foul creatures sensed his very presence. Even without his armor and garb, he was still a Paladin and no measure of disguise would hide his aura of goodness. Again, swiftness was the only course of action and he felt at home here once more, in action, doing something useful.

So without a second thought he prepared himself for what needed to be achieved swiftly. His back leaning on the damp rocks of these cold corridors, he made a quick prayer to his God, and was blessed and ready to clash with the creatures of the underworld. He fumbled in his pack and unwrapped a Dagger of Silence, a new Magical artifact that a powerful Mage friend of his had devised. Rounding the corner with adrenaline-powered muscles, he quickly flipped his wrist and sent the dagger spinning towards the pair. The dagger did insignificant damage as it lodged itself in the chest of one of the abominations, but did what it was supposed to do. The liches were silent and so couldn't cast spells … until they figured it out. With a dash he made no time of the few yards that separated them from him. The steel of his sword rang eagerly as he pulled his companion from his scabbard in the swift motion of the Master Swordsman. His sword was singing, thirsty to meet those creatures, screaming at the outrage of their apparition.

The first creature screamed a silent scream and rushed the man, thinking him a mere inconvenience, thirsty for the life he would drink, the soul he would feast on. Arms outstretched, its quick stride brought it in few seconds within sword range from our hero. It was its simple plan to take the slash from the sword and disregard it, then close its deadly claws on its dumbfounded victim's throat. It was a lich inexperienced in fighting without magic to make such a fatal error, probably a minor sorcerer or evil mage, not a true master of the art. Its evil mind could not fathom what happened to it when the steel of this holy sword bit him so savagely that it experienced a sensation long forgotten: Pain. In seconds it was over for this first undead guard, but still an opponent remained. The question was why it didn't attack at the same time as the other had.

In the same quick motion with which he had dispatched the first monster, our adventurer turned to face his second opponent, the one that was originally struck with the spell-negating dagger, just in time to duck his head out of the way as a magical missile missed its target to end crashing in the still tumbling lich a few steps behind. The Paladin now saw the dagger, planted firmly in the door behind, way out of range to silence the monster. This lich was a more competent opponent. With his muscular legs, our hero made the distance that separated him from this dangerous opponent in a few quick strides. He had to strike rapidly as the lich was already beginning the incantation of a new spell.

Luck was with him as his holy sword made contact with the deadly arm of the lich as he was about to release the spell. What resulted was a misfired missile that exploded in the face of the two opponents. As the magical fire partly burned his sword arm, our hero plunged his holy sword deep into the non-beating heart of the foul beast, taking the life a second time from this screaming, agonizing corpse. Again the lich was overconfident with its magic.

Taking no time to inspect his injured arm, our silent friend bent in front of the door to inspect it. The lock seemed simple enough but he knew only the most basic concepts of lock-picking and could not take any chances here, as time was running out. He was fearing that the scream of the liches would attract attention. Still wielding his sword, he took one step back, brought it up above his head, aimed, and swung down with all his might. His aim was true: The sword hit the lock mechanism with full force, deforming it slightly. He swung upwards and downwards again: This time, the lock was devastated. But an attempt to open the door showed that it was still operational. With one more mighty swing, the lock was no more. No traps were set to greet him, no alarms rang when he pushed the door open. The liches were apparently more than enough for the casual intruder, nobody expected a hero to show up, nobody would have expected THIS hero to show up.

The room was dark, but our silent explorer had expected this also. He shielded back the dagger of silence in its protective little scabbard to negate its magic, then he cast a minor spell of light, enough to shower the first cells with his divine luminence.

The first cells were empty, but the last one was not. It radiated with a pulsating bluish glow, one indicating the sure presence of strong magic. Carefully, our adventurer came in front of the last cell. It was just a vast three-walled cubicle with no door. There was no need of a door as its occupant was shackled to the opposite wall, unable to work any magic of his own to free himself.

Thus was found his friend, long and dear, locked in a magical prison. Despairing for anyone to even remember him.

- "No I haven't forgotten you, Old Friend. Time to go home !", said our hero, confident.

As his friend was unable to speak in the permanent sphere of silence, all he could do was to smile at his old companion, while his eyes became uncommonly shiny.

Our Hero took his magical sword out and started to advance in the sphere of glowing magic. The sword hissed as the magic flared intensely and pulsated more rapidly as the hero advanced. Straining to get near his friend, it took all his will and muscle to get the magical blade to cut through this magic. It felt like trying to blow up a balloon with a dull blunt piece of wood, the force of the magic field bending around the point of the sword, resisting, the task getting harder the further in our hero pushed. Muscles straining, his eyes bulging from the effort, our hero pushed harder, in a titanesque effort - he would not be able to summon such strength a second time. This had to work now or else he would be beaten.

As the sword finally made contact with the magical shackles, the magic went off in a deafening explosion and both companions were consumed in pain that seemed to last forever. When the magic finally was expelled, both companions were looking at each other, shaking heads.

- "Well, well, well … it's about time you came looking for me, you Ol' Fart !", said the now free Ninja Gargoyle.

- "That is all the gratitude you have for your Liege, Wacko ? No 'Thanks, your Majesty' ? Knew I should have let you to rot here. Well, maybe not. A gargoyle doesn't rot very well does it ?" replied King Louis.

Grinning like school boys, they were now disturbed by the rushing presence of countless guards, alerted by the magical alarms placed around the spell of binding. They couldn't be seen yet, but both protagonists knew they were coming.

- "Time to see how good you still are in a fight, Rock Brain !", said the King, turning around, sword in hand, more for bravado than real confidence as the numbers of rushing guards sounded more like a little army than anything else.

- "Darn ! Looks like they emptied the whole castle to come party with us !", replied the Gargoyle, looking at his ruined wrists, not amused at all with the events unfolding. On top of the fact that they seemed hopelessly outnumbered, Wacko had an unnatural fear of Liches, which probably aided in his capture. "What would you say, your Majesty, if I cut down your fun here a bit and portalled us to a more refined entourage ? How about Castle Perron ?

- "Portal?? You're a Ninja...!", exclaimed the King.

With this, Wacko held up a finger and bent down. Grimacing, he produced a spell scroll from his nether regions, and started to unroll it as the horde came nearer.

- "Well you certainly came prepared, Stony One!"

- "You think I'd put something up there intentionally?? It WAS in my pouch... and I was rushed... and I didn't expect... Liches. Some funny things happen when you're spooked like that. So, will you do the honors?"

- "Ho but please, be my guest, my Dear Wacko ! It is sad that we have to leave our friends here a tad bit early, but I agree with you that my Old Castle would better suit our rejoicing of your return to the lands of Might and Magic ! I kept the place tidy for your eventual come back. At least it was tidy when I left it a while ago to entertain these gentlemen here."

And not a moment too soon. Just as the front lines of Liches had appeared around the corner, spells already being cast, the old pair was teleported back to King Louis' Castle, in the Lands Bordering Enroth.

The narrator stopped here, opened his mouth as if to say more, but then just smiled and bowed.

The crowd of listeners, which had grown from a handful of drinkers to a mob that was crowding the tavern while the two narrators were talking at the bar, cheered and started breaking up.

Wacko turned to his friendly King. "I never did thank you for rescuing me, did I?"

"No, you didn't!" said King Louis.

After a long pause, the King saw that the Gargoyle wasn't about to. It was his way: They have expressed their gratitude to each other countless times over the years by saving each others' hides.

"Well, how have they treated you during your stay?" ventured the King.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

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