odourpreventer on 2/8/2007 at 20:17

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[CENTER]Chapter 8 ½ - Cruel and unusual diplomacy[/CENTER]

It was long since the path had dwindled to nothing, leaving Gary to pick his way through the forest by his own wits, which didn't amount to much. He would have turned back long ago, if he only knew which way was back. Being a city-dweller, he appreciated the urban comforts; he had never appreciated them as much as now. He didn't like having so many trees around him, he felt like they were ganging up on him. (Which, in a sense, they were. Paranoia has its merits.)

He stopped. Up in a tree, impaled on a sturdy tree branch, two Mechalomaniac monks dangled like forbidden fruit. There was a cracking, like the breaking of big logs; the branch retracted, and the two bodies slumped to the ground. Almost immediately, leaves and grass started sprouting from them.

"Sufooday..."

“Hm?” Things started to happen around Gary. Tree roots tried to reach for him, parts of the ground started to convulse. And a strange voice floated around him, like a sprite in need of an exorcism.

"giwtymeldnof..."

Gary checked his fire crystals, in case he would need to do some impromptu arsoning. If plants had liquid properties and could flow upwards, it would explain what was happening before him. Assorted greenery coiled itself together into a humanoid shape, naked, and quite obviously female.

"stnapypoopasiyrag—Gary."

"Victorya!"

"Gary," she chuckled, "what are you doing in our neck of the woods?"

"Longing to get my hands around your wood of a neck!"

"Oh Gary, you're joking." She smiled.

"Hardly. If I was joking, I would say something like: There were three men going to a bar; a guard, a pagan and an MC Hammerite. The waiter serves a mug with ale, and the guard says 'that's my order.' Then he serves a fruit drink and the pagan says 'that bes mine order.' Then he takes a sword and runs it through the pagan, and the monk says 'that wouldst be my order.'"

"Joke!?" She was suddenly quite angry, and her right arm became all long and sharp sticks, pointing at Gary. "What do you know about joking and entertainment, pathetic man-fool?! In a moment I could—" She sighed, and the sharp and pointy bits retracted to wherever those bits reside when not needed. "But the past is the past. No more play, and it makes us dull girls and boys."

From the greenery, people emerged who could be described as the better class of hippies, if indeed anybody had known what that meant. They gave Gary a look usually reserved for dogs that have a fondness for other dogs' faeces.

"We are not your enemy Gary, they are." Victorya pointed at the decomposing bodies.

"Those two? Thank you for taking care of them for me then, although I think I could have—"

"The Mechalomaniacs, you boob! They're hunting us, and you too."

"You joking? They wouldn't be able to hunt down an olive in a salad bar. I think I can take care of myself."

"Listen, the Mechalomaniacs are targeting our franchises. They're going after our camping sites and resorts, and our stores selling cosmetic products."

Gary snapped his fingers. "The pitcher plants. I thought I recognised the stench somewhere. Making beauty products out of dead people, that's gross."

"We didn't need more zombies, but that's not important right now. What is important is that not only are we fast losing members, our monetary funds are getting low as well." Gary opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly interrupted. "But there's something in this for you as well, Gary. Kletus has some big and sinister plans in work which might affect the whole city, and he knows you. Are you just going to ignore that?"

"Yep. Sorry, but not interested. Besides, you're strong enough, why don't you take them on?"

"I draw my strength from this place. Where the Mechalomaniacs are, I would not be so—assured of victory."

"So why didn't you do anything when they attacked that village nearby?"

"Shut up."

"Right, I'm outta here."

Victorya kneeled and waved one hand over the ground. It started shimmering, and shadows appeared. "Your report, Bluebell."

"Yes, er," the ground said, "we've lost two in Dayport, and another in South Quarter, two in the Docks, and one shop near Newmarket, one at—"

She cursed and closed the connection. She stood up.

"Are you still here?" she said. Gary was standing in front of her, looking awkward.

"I don't know the way back. Can you please show me?"

"Don't see how it's our fault that you get lost in the woods. You need to take better care of yourself." Her smile was getting on Gary's nerves.

"OK, you win. What do you want me to do?"

"We want you to join us, Gary."

Gary suddenly had strange visions of the future. In one, he was held down by Victorya's henchmen while she dropped a spidery creature on his belly while saying "You will join us, Mister Gary, whether you want to or not." In another one, he was holding a hand against an eye and bleeding heavily underneath it, screaming "I'll never join you!" and then jumping down a shaft.

"What's it going to be Gary? Are you prepared to trust us?" He woke up from his daydreaming.

"Having just your word for it? I remember how that turned out last time!"

Victorya gripped her right wrist with the other hand. There was a crack, and a green gooey liquid dropped on the ground.

"The earth holds my word for me. I'm cursed if I break the covenant."

"Oh yeah, says you," Gary answered. "I still only have your word for it."

Victorya approached him and grabbed his wrist. "Are you with us or not?"

"Hold on! Can't you take my word for it?"

"I trust you as far as I can throw you, Gary."

"But you have thrown me!"

"Yes, precisely." Her grip tightened.

"Oh, right. Well, I—" She jammed a splinter-like thumbnail through his skin and blood dropped on the ground. He winced.

"Now the earth holds your oath as well."

"What happens if I break the oath?" Gary asked. She nodded towards the Mechalomaniacs, who now looked quite healthy, from a strictly botanical point of view.

Suddenly that unearthly roaring was heard again. Victorya laughed and looked dreamily at the treetops.

"Listen to them, the children of the woods. What sweet music they make." She smiled at him. He grimaced back. Then she beckoned him to follow. Gary noticed that for a woman made out of wood, she actually had a quite nice butt. Some strange conflicting feelings welled up inside him.

(The feelings were not unlike what he felt being around Basso's sister. Being the softy that she was, she sometimes took pity on Gary. It wasn't easy, since she had to climb a mountain of cynicism to find a soul as romantic as a dead spider. Years of performance art and late night DnD games had turned him into an emotional cripple, and since Gary's notion of a date included robbing whatever place they went to, it meant that they usually made out hiding from searching guards.)

He followed her farther into the forest.

End of chapter

jtr7 on 3/8/2007 at 10:50

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"giwtymeldnof..."

...provided my first laugh outloud, the rest kept me smiling and chuckling and nodding knowingly at the references.

:laff:

Thanks for the laughs, again!

Beleg Cúthalion on 3/8/2007 at 14:50

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Thank you, I'm on my way.