Episode 69: Shit Happened

Count Pylorijk trundled along the serenely wooded path on the back of his trusty steed, Svengarlic. As he did so, he counted his many blessings. He was in robust health, he was virile enough to support three mistresses, and he would soon be placing that sniveling bastard Count Fundus under arrest. Not only had the weedy little man an inherent inability to grow a decent moustache, but he had apparently been diverting considerable funds from the Prince's coffers for some time now. Without Count Claudio's insufferable Quantum Accountants, Fundus' deeds would have gone unnoticed for generations.

As Pylorijk and his men-at-arms made the final turn around the northern leg of Vanguard Mountain they could see strange lights on the horizon. Strange lights coming from Plank Town.

"Double time march, men! Something queer is afoot, and I don't mean that pansy Count Fundus!"

By the time Pylorijk had passed through the unguarded eastern gate, his nerves were a shambles.    

Explosions.

Screams.

And a damned gigantic hammerhead shark hovering over the town.

He thought he saw a child's doll clamber up into the bottom of the shark via a rope ladder. He hoped he didn't, but he thought he did.

By the time he led his little troop into the center of town, there were only a handful of people milling about. A motley crew they were as well - a dwarf, a gigantic Muralian, a hippopotamic creature of some sort and a tiny little child covered in gore.

Wait a minute - wasn't this that adventuring troupe from Port Harbor? The Turtley one? What were they called.... Damn - the dried frog pills were wearing off...

Pylorijk tried to shake the feeling that he was in over his head. I mean, there were only four or twelve of them, right? I have 40 of my finest men with me! I'll just demand some answers and get to the bottom of this at once!

Wait a minute - that's not a child - it's a gnome! What in God's names is all over his hat?

The Count put up a brave front. He even attempted some Major Shouting. But one thing he didn't know - couldn't know - was that the cold, searching tendrils of chaos were silently and invisibly snaking their way around him... slithering up his breeches... toying with his manliparts. He tried to bark some orders at the gnome. The gnome barked back.

That's when the sky opened up for the Count - it peeled back his scalp and unwound his mind - drew it out as if on a spindle in Torquemada's rumpus room. The cosmos spun, his mind wheeled, his brain bounced over the spinning numbers of black and red.

The ball settled into a slot.

Red 1.

"I wonder what that means?"