You guuuuys! How great are you? For real! Some of you came in and followed on youtube and followed the blog and left comments on the blog, and that would already be great from people I know, but it is awesome awesome awesome when coming from people I don’t know. I love that you dig it, and I love that I can share all my wonky stuff with all of you. YAY!
As announced on the Facebook page (did you click like on that yet? What do you mean “No”??😉 ), in addition to music videos on Tuesday and vlogging on Friday, from today onwards you will all be able to enjoy a weekly part of The League of Extraordinary Adventurers here on the blog. I would LOVE to hear your thoughts and suggestions. Wild uninhibited plot speculation permitted!
Last Tuesday’s music video and last Friday’s vlog will be linked at the bottom of the post. Don’t forget to stay tuned for Tuesday’s new Youtube Music Extravaganza! Help yourself remember with a subscription and join the Youtube Family we have going.❤ SHARE THE LOVE, Y’ALL!!
But first, without further ado:
The League of Extraordinary Adventurers
Pitch-black. One might wonder if black isn’t simply black, but apparently people felt need for defining other kinds of black, like charcoal and obsidian and ebony. They were wrong. Black was black, and every “other” kind of black was merely an extremely dark shade of grey, or perhaps a deeply dark kind of grimy greenish. Brownish? But these surroundings were black, and because of stupid other people, Alderan thought of it as pitch. It was truly and utterly black. There was no distinguishable transition between ground and air, but ground there had to be, or he would have been falling endlessly. Instead the feet he could not make out in the absence of all light, were firmly planted onto a solid surface. He didn’t dare to move much, not knowing how far this surface stretched. He wasn’t prepared to risk walking right off it and falling, possibly into some frighteningly deep abyss. Alderan was many things, but suicidal was not one of them. He wanted to go back. Minutes before, he’d been in his room laying waste to The Other Army. All of his knights had survived so far. He hadn’t broken a single one of them. Chipped a bit of paint off of some horses, but it wasn’t like last time when his best piece had lost a sword with the hand still attached. Too thin on the wrist and all that. He stretched his armes sideways and turned slowly. At least he learnt he wasn’t close to any walls, not close enough to touch them anyway.
“Halloo!” His mouth formed the word, he was sure he felt air escape him, but there was no sound at all. He wasn’t sure if he’d gone mute, or deaf.
The voice was faint and distant. It was more of a thin, ethereal echo that sounded somewhat like his name. It could have easily been ‘on the run’ or ‘all the fun’. Since he was there specifically not running and as this entire situation wasn’t particularly fun, it was more likely someone, or something, had indeed whispered his name. Or shouted it from afar. Or said it in a normal tone of voice from a relatively close location yet not close enough to be entirely comprehensible. At least now he knew he hadn’t gone deaf.
“Halloo?” he tried again, but no sound escaped him.
“We heard you the first time.”
It still sounded a bit like ‘we curse you with birth slime’, but the voice had become a bit louder and less breathy. It came from somewhere in front of him. He squinted his eyes and tried once more to see something other than the black that was the only actual true black anyone could logically mean when saying ‘black’. Any black.
“You can hear me?” he mouthed.
The voice was now right in front of him. It vibrated deeply in the dark, the silence, and for incomprehensible reasons, Alderan’s left knee. He should be able to touch whoever was speaking. He reached for the air before him and slowly stretched out his arm, waving his hand about. He poked left, prodded right, leaned in for a bit to reach even further, but found nothing.
“Are… are you a ghost?” he stammered.
“We are not a ghost,” the voice trembled to his knee.
“Why can you hear me if I can’t hear myself?” Alderan asked, relieved he wouldn’t have to fight a restless poltergeist. Restless poltergeists were the worst.
“We are in your head. You don’t need to hear yourself when you’re already thinking what you’re saying.”
He had no idea if that made sense, but he felt safer knowing he was in his own mind. He thought he must be sleeping, as you can’t actually go to your mind. It’s not somewhere you can physically be. Yes, he must be dreaming. He felt bolder. Things can’t harm you in your dreams.
“If you’re not a ghost, why can’t I touch you?” he asked.
“Enough with your questions!”
“My mind, my rules!”
“Silence!” The voice sounded irritated.
Alderan straightened his back. “I demand to know to whom I am speaking! Or… thinking!”
“Listen! We bring you an important me….”
“Lalalalalalalalalalalala…” Alderan jumped from one leg to the other with his fingers firmly in his ears.
“What are you doing? Sto…”
“IIIIIII caaaaaan’t heaaaar youuuuu!”
Something heavy came down on Alderan’s foot. He screamed like a girl. Higher and a lot more painful to the ears than men usually do. Louder, longer, with varying pitch so as to efficiently scare off dangerous enemies. Girl screams were the freakiest screams of all screams. They weren’t measly grunts or half-arsed rumbles from men who couldn’t rupture half an eardrum if they tried. Alderan had girl-scream. It was probably the one admirable quality he possessed. He instinctively looked down to see what had hit him. His jaw dropped when a little light flicked on near his shin. The tiny old man reached to right above Alderan’s knees, though his enormous pointed hat stuck out at least twice the length of his head. The charcoal grey (charcoal is a shade of GREY) rim stretched as wide as his shoulders. His matching cloak cascaded off his shoulders and fanned out on the floor in a wide semi-circle. His long robes were a lighter hue, bound at the waist by white twisted rope. He was leaning on a massive hammer and impatiently glared up at Alderan.
“You’re a gnome?!”
“We are the Spirits!”
“The Spirits are gnomes??”
“No, this is just exactly how big you make yourself out to be in your own head.”
Alderan blinked and rubbed his sore toes against the back of his leg.
“Our time is up, I’m afraid.” The man searched his inside pockets and rolled out an extensive piece of parchment. “Let us check, so you get the gist of things…. Ah, there. Yes. Uhm… Find the Holy Cushion, don’t let the Puny Evil have it, bring it to Caershlagh Mustigblutharflog. If you don’t succeed then war, terror, world going down in flames. That sort of thing.”
He rolled up his parchment and turned to walk off.
“Wait!” Alderan shouted as he saw the tiny man leave. “I have so many questions!”
“Should have thought about that before you asked all the other ones!” the man replied as he kept walking, though the second part already sounded more like ‘you masked all the butter nuns’, and Alderan had no idea what butter nuns were.
I sincerely hope you liked this (and will be coming back for mooooooore). I’ll leave you with a couple of minutes worth of extra entertainment before you go: