Fiction|Challenge Response
Faigol Fails Again
The un-famous Faigol has been summoned.
Previously: Unexpected Visitors
Mercy and Vengeance sat beside the row of washing machines, tails wagging as Faigol lean into the depths of the washer to retrieve his sopping-wet clothes. Getting a whiff of too much Country Meadow Laundry Detergent, his head swam in a kaleidoscope of colors from the endless Dew of Mountain slurries he had consumed at the party.
In the faint recesses of his mind, he heard a voice calling to him. “Faigol, I have need of your assistance. Come to me, you must. And hurry!”
He mumbled through an armload of sodden clothes, “I’m coming, Luci,” before dropping them into a hexagon basket.
Mercy and Vengeance tilted their heads to the side, perking up their furry ears at their master’s ramblings.
Vengeance calmly watched Mercy — her rapt attention focused on a buzzing sound as her eyes scanned the laundromat. Spotting a bee climbing on Faigol’s pile of clothes, she stood and took a stealthy step toward the unwanted guest. Vengeance followed suit.
Again, the distant voice summoned the not-so-great Faigol. “Faigol, hurry to me you must!”
Faigol leaned back into the washing machine, “Luci? Are you there?”
The pups launched an assault on the hapless bee in search of wildflowers. They jumped at the small, furry insect that flew in frantic swirls and snapped their maws repeatedly in an attempt to catch it.
The bee landed on Faigol’s hunched over back for reprieve.
The pups on either side of the unsuspecting magician, hunched down before launching a unified assault on the bee — knocking Faigol further into the washer, and partly through a portal at its base!
“AAAAGGGGHHH!” His deep voice echoed quietly within the washing machine from the other side of the portal.
Mercy and Vengeance clamped down on the edge of Faigol’s robe.
The distant voice called out yet again. “Faigol, a problem there must be with the portal. Help you, I will!”
The magician began to be tugged through the portal from the other side.
The pups, still clamped onto Faigol’s robe, brightened at the realization of the game at hand. They dug their massive paws in for traction and tugged back.
Low, deep growls erupted from the dogs’ chests as they thrashed their heads from side to side. Yanking and pulling, they worked together to win the game of tug-o-war as Faigol flailed and hollered from the depths of the washing machine.
The voice faintly called out in the laundromat, punctuated by the dogs’ growling and snarling. “Stuck on something, he is! Help me pull him through, you must!”
In a brief moment, Faigol was easily pulled through the portal, hands bound to an unknown force, with the pups in tow.
Looking up from his trail through the mud, Faigol lifted his dirt-caked face and looked up at the back end of what he thought was a horse. “What in tar-nation is the meaning of this?!”
An older man in a tattered robe stepped forward, hands clasped in a gesture of prayer, and bowed. “Terribly sorry, I am. In great need of your assistance, we are!” The man extended a hand, helping Faigol to his feet, and released his bonds.
The dogs set off exploring the scents of the new world. Their noses quickly covering a large area as their tugging game was long forgotten.
Brushing the excess dirt from his face and robe, Faigol glanced again at the odd horse, squinting at the creature. “Why does that horse look like it’s made of parched earth during a seven year drought?”
The old man looked at the horse, quickly glanced about the skies, then back to Faigol. “Coated in dung, it is. Roam the skies, a ferocious beast does! Snatched up our livestock, it has!” The man’s bright eyes boar into Faigol’s clouded ones. “Defeat it for us, you must — o Valiant Faigol!”
Faigol’s eyes grew as he too scanned the horizon. “Ferocious b-beast? M-m-me defeat it?!” He pat his robe, felt his sleeves, and pulled out a flask. Taking a long drink, his eyes flew to the old man, “Wait — Valiant Faigol?” His chest puffed out a little bit.
Two weary soldiers standing with the horse looked unsure and quizzed the old man. “Are you sure he’s the one?”
The old mage beamed his confidence in Faigol as he grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “Oh yes. Highly recommended he is in the Magician’s Directory!”
Faigol pulled his hand from the old man bent on a mission. Narrowing his eyes, “Why do you not deal with this beast? You are a magician.”
The old man opened his mouth to speak and clamped it shut before attempting a quiet response. “Possible, it is not.”
Faigol stopped following him, “Why not?”
The old man’s head dropped, as did his smile. In his ancient tongue, he confessed, “ꋰꐞ ꁲꀯꀯꂑꂠꈼꋊꋖ, ꂑ ꀯꌅꈼꁲꋖꈼꂠ ꂑꋖ.”
Faigol leaned forward, scoffing, “What kind of gibberish is that? Out with it man!”
The old man took a deep breath and somehow appeared smaller — and older. “By accident, I created it. Bound to me, it is.” In a defeated tone, “Terrorize the villages, it does.” He turned pleading eyes to Faigol. “The Great Faigol, you are. Help us, you will?”
Faigol looked around at the barren landscape as he ran his fingers through his long, grey hair. “I think I need a stiff drink — or five.”
He began to walk toward nowhere in search of a tavern when a piercing screech caused both magicians and the soldiers to cower close to the ground. The pups quickly returned to Faigol’s side, growling.
The magician grabbed Faigol’s arm, quickly pulling him along. “No time to drink. Fight the dragon now, you must!”
Upon reaching the base of the mountain, the old man ushered Faigol up the path. After hiking a short ways, Faigol turned to ask the question that burned in his mind. “Has the dragon ever eaten — ” Only he found himself alone with the pups.
Faigol reached for the flask hidden in his sleeve and downed the remaining contents. Another deafening screech nearly made him drop the container.
Belching loudly, he looked at the growling dogs, their hairs standing on end. Following their line of sight, Faigol spotted the fiery beast gracefully dominating the sky in the distance.
The gravity of his situation — or predicament, as he saw it — took hold of him. Faigol scanned the area and dove behind a large boulder. He tightly gripped the shaking wand in his hand as he huddled behind the massive rock.
Hearing the flap of immense wings, Faigol clung to the boulder as he cautiously peeked around the edge. A forceful breath of sulfur from the dragon’s nostrils caused Faigol’s hair and beard to flap violently as if he were standing in a hurricane.
Faigol’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “AAAGGGHHH!”
The dogs were snarling, barking, and snapping their maws at the dragon who, in turn, screeched at the intrusive visitors.
Hiding behind the safety of the rock, Faigol aimed his wand around the boulder and began firing magical projectiles, hoping to hit the dragon and put an end to this nightmare.
A burst of magic struck a section of mountain opposite the ravine — exploding and raining down rocks in a rock slide. Another magic ball hit Mercy — causing her to sprout enormous, black wings, and bear-trap like teeth. She took to the air, biting at the dragon’s ears and thick neck with bone-crunching ferocity.
Still cowering behind the boulder, Faigol fired off several more magical rounds.
One magic burst spawned into a tornado that stormed through the ravine like an angry top. It sucked in the dragon and both dogs, violently spitting them out moments later against the mountain beside Faigol — who jumped and screamed like a school girl.
Frantically scrambling away from the dazed dragon, Faigol fired a barrage of magic at it, and inadvertently the dogs.
Each of the creatures exploded in vibrant, crackling eruptions that morphed from one distorted creation to the next.
Faigol leaned into the mountain, his sleeve covering his nose against the magical smoke blowing his way.
A lime green lizard with black wings emerged and scurried to his side. A moment later, a black and blue specked mink with excessively large teeth planted itself on his other side.
Faigol eyed the creatures warily, “Mercy? Vengeance?”
Both creatures turned to look at the magician with smiling faces, panting, and long tongues hanging out the side of their mouths.
Faigol ran a glowing hand down the back of each chaotic creation as the dogs slowly morphed back into themselves under his gentle touch.
Faigol lifted his gaze to the settling dust and smoke where the fearsome dragon lie — wand aimed to fire another volley of magic.
He heard rocks shift and fall down the edge of the mountain. There was a cough — or a sneeze — from within the smoke plume that glowed with fire. Trembling, he tried to steady his wand.
A miniature iridescent, glowing dragon bound out of the smoke. It looked about to get its bearings when it spotted Faigol against the rock-face. Its tail swayed from side to side as it hunkered low, flexing its muscles as it prepared to pounce.
Before he could react, the shimmering creature launched itself at Faigol, gripped his leg, and scampered up to his knee. It sat upright for a moment before launching at his neck.
Faigol screamed and threw his arms up to protect his face.
It took a moment for him to realize he was not being attacked but that the adorable dragon had curled about his neck in contentment, a low purr-like rumble springing forth from its chest.
Faigol visibly relaxed, releasing a deep sigh. “It’s definitely time for a drink!”
Next: Faigol’s Big Bash
Don’t know about Faigol’s Antics? Read the collection below!!
1 pt - tally box
2 pt - kaleidoscope (head swam in kaleidoscope of colors)
5 pt - antastrophe - The voice calls out "Come to me, you must."
1 pt - cute puppy - Mercy and Vengeance
1 pt - hexagon
1 pt - buzzing bee
2 pt - washing machine portal
1 pt - disguised horse
14 points totalThis is written in response to Jonathon Sawyer’s Monday Mash-Up below.
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