The Adventures of Theophilus Thistle

by David Partelow

  At that precise moment, the turbulent skies did open up, allowing their violent offering. Lightning bolts descended upon the Rangers and their prisoner. Blast after unnatural blast peppered the road, causing the horses to buck and shriek. Their riders either had to dismount or were cast off. One Ranger was felled by the lightning as the others did all they could to avoid the assault.

  As the lightning ceased, the wilderness around the road came alive with the defiant wails of waiting creatures. Tree limbs magically lashed out at the road with one grabbing a Ranger and pulling him away. Soon a score of weeds, flowers, imps, and goblins lead by a gray-skinned orc in robes of crimson charged the road. The remaining Rangers fired their bows as fast as they could but soon they were overwhelmed.

  As his Rangers fought to the last, Captain Shael exhausted his quiver before drawing his sword. He fought savagely against the onslaught, sending many imps and goblins running before a bolt of magical fury knocked him off of his feet. Injured, he tried to reach his sword again before he was surrounded by Norrex’s cohorts. Soon their victorious shrills could be heard darkly through the rising storm.

  The shrouded orc held his hands up triumphantly. “We are victorious, brethren! Our brother is saved!” he crowed before he approached Norrex. Helping the pantheryn down, he burned off the bindings with a wave of his hand before tearing off the shroud. Thus freed, Norrex looked clearly pleased as he offered a merciless grin. The orc then knelt before the pantheryn as the other minions cheered.

  Norrex placed a hand upon the orc’s shoulder. “You have done well, Dobah. Moreg will be pleased by your deeds tonight. Our enemies have damaged our plans, but only delayed our intentions. Soon the full might of Moreg shall return to this world and we will stand with him victorious!” At his words, the minions cheered again.

  As the minions cleaned the defeated of their possessions, Norrex walked easily to where Captain Shael was being held. The pantheryn’s smile only deepened as he loomed closer. Behind him, the orc known as Dobah shadowed his master grimly. On the ground, surrounded by his enemies, Captain Shael held himself steady, refusing to offer his enemy any fear or pleas for mercy.

  As Norrex reached the Ranger, some of the minions moved aside so that the pantheryn could stand triumphantly over Captain Shael. It appeared that it was only Norrex’s will that kept the Ranger alive. Norrex took a moment to relish in the turn of events and the angered look in his opponent’s eyes. Holding up a clawed hand, Norrex let lighting cast down into it before he redirected it upon Captain Shael.

  As a stream of electricity shot through him, Captain Shael screamed in pain. Becoming accustomed to it, the elf Ranger was able to clench his teeth through the rest of it. At last, Norrex ceased the attack as his minions laughed. Below him, Captain Shael prepared for another assault from his enemy.

  The pantheryn nodded to the Ranger. “You are strong, Captain Shael. I must attest to that. But another bolt such as that would surely kill you. And you are not to die on this day. Our master wishes you to live to see your failure and perhaps one day understand the folly of your ways. The light will be your downfall if you do not. But look upon me and know that you could have died easily if not from mercy from the darkness,” said Norrex.

  Captain Shael shrugged at this, immediately regretting the action as another wave of pain rushed through him. “I will be sure to thank you one day for allowing me another chance at stopping you,” he said.

  Norrex and the others laughed. “You may delay us. You may even send us to the Dream, but you can never stop us. I, like many of my brethren, will live to see a new world free of weakness, free of false promises from the light. We will see the return of Moreg and the end of the Dreamer,” he said before kneeling and offering a sinister growl. “But first we will have our revenge. That is one of my master’s blessings, that I may see those that have wronged me punished by my grateful hands. And you will get to witness it all in the end and it will cost you more than you realize.”

  “We will see,” said Captain Shael.

  Norrex laughed as he stood. “Yes, we will. The revenge has started. Soon we will crush those that would oppose us. But none’s end shall be sweeter than that little troublesome weed. Mark my word, the days of Theophilus Thistle are short and what remains of his time shall be painful,” he said before holding up a hand. “Minions, we depart for glory,” he added to their fanatical cheers.

  With the Rangers’ horses and possessions claimed, Norrex and his minions dispersed into the night. As they faded, Captain Shael called out to the pantheryn. “This isn’t over, Norrex. We will meet again,” he said.

  Norrex stopped long enough to turn and smile at him. “That is an inevitability, captain. And it is something that I truly look forward to,” he said before he was swallowed up in the night.

  Captain Shael willed his limbs to move as the night grew silent. Above him, the darkened clouds dispersed, offering up gentle starlight. The Ranger could still not move without considerable pain. As he let the effects of Norrex’s assault wear off, he listened intently to the night, hearing nothing but the sounds of the wilderness and the aftermath of his failure.

  “Theophilus Thistle, prepare yourself,” he whispered. “It appears your real adventure has only just begun.”

  Part Two

  Vengeful Darkness

  Under cover of darkness and ill-winds, the orc shaman known as Dobah traveled swiftly to his destination. A deep, crimson robe shadowed him from head to toe, revealing only the grim indifference of his face. Two tusks protruded from his lower jaw. Many of those that had seen the snarl that came with those tusks were now one with the Dream or hiding in fear of their lives. Few knew of the gray orc known as Dobah, and those that did revered or reviled his name.

  Dobah traveled with his hands clasped before him, gripping to a mystic scepter of his own design. In tune with the land, bolstered by the scepter, the ground beneath Dobah carried him forward like a wave on the water. The orc spoke little, letting displays of his power and the ferocity of the application of these powers to speak for him. These things made him a valuable ally to his master Norrex and ultimately their combined master Moreg.

  Dobah thought deeply on matters as he allowed his magic to carry him forward. Weeks had passed since his assault on a group of Rangers had given notice to those that opposed him. The orc had preferred working from the shadows, but his master’s captivity had forced his hand. He would not leave such a duty to lesser creatures, for Norrex held a greater importance than just Dobah’s loyalty. Soon all would be in place and Moreg’s Hand would be able to lash out with its full might.

  Dobah could hardly wait for such a day.

  Trudging through the darkness, utilizing the unknown routes added greatly to Dobah’s travel, but this mattered not. Through his shaman practices, the orc had learned much about patience and how it could be a tremendous boon. After all, Dobah knew the best laid plans and revenge both aged like the finest wine. For years he had dwelled in the shadows, hatching plots, expanding his reach and garnering allies to the cause. Dobah was the known and unknown evil doing what must be done, regardless of cost.

  At last, a faint grin trickled over the orc’s face as he beheld his destination at long last. Free of curious eyes, deep in the Shadowpine Forest and resting amidst waning trees was the Gnarled Fang Butte, a strong, yet dismal crag of great rock. The butte rose high yet paled in size to the Vastly Mountains. Still, the sight of it brought pleasing feelings to Dobah, who had carved a home within the innards of Gnarled Fang. Through much toil, Dobah had created the Fireborn Citadel, his home and staging grounds for Moreg and his just cause. To see it swelling with the devoted, to see it brim with life brought Dobah joy he had not felt in ages.

  Upon seeing his approach, guards called for the opening of the gates. Massive stone doors moaned wearily as they offered entrance. As Dobah neared, fellow orcs and goblins bowed to this greatness. Dobah paid them no mind as he entered the keep, letting arcane ingredients, roasting meat
s and orc sweat permeate his nostrils.

  Dobah was home.

  Walking through long, fire-lit hallways carved in stone, Dobah watched passively as his orc brethren worked alongside goblins to further fortify the citadel. Lesser creatures set about unloading gathered supplies as little flowers and weeds offered up portions of their petals for magic concoctions. Dobah could hear the pleas of prisoners kept in the darkness below. They would see the folly of their ways and embrace Moreg or they would embrace the Dream. The minions of Moreg had no time or patience for weakness.

  Clearing the hallway and passing the barracks, Dobah made his way to the throne room for an audience. Again, upon seeing him, Dobah was not disturbed and doors were opened for his entrance. Those manning the doors dared not to even look the orc shaman in the eyes, afraid that he would find fear or defiance in their gazes. Yet, to their fortune, Dobah had other matters on his mind. With the Fireborn Citadel near completion, they would soon see the fruits of labor in the form of expansion.

  But first, Dobah, would meet with his master.

  Entering the throne room, Dobah traversed it quickly, paying little regard to the splendor that had been laid upon the room in his absence. Various minions were offering their master information and updates, some hovered nearby, ready to cater to their master at a moment’s notice. Upon noticing Dobah, the minions in the room fell silent and divided into two lines, allowing the orc easy access and priority to Norrex. Upon seeing his master, a swell of admiration and pride filled the shaman.

  Before Dobah, sitting languidly upon a throne of gold and jewels was the craftiest, strongest pantheryn the orc had ever encountered. Known as Erlwand of Randoon in many circles, the alias had served him well. To his devoted, he was Norrex the Deathshade. Even in the caverns of the citadel under dim fire light, Dobah’s master’s golden fur and emerald eyes glowed with their own intensity. Instantly, Dobah could feel the power emanating from Norrex and quickly he realized that his master’s power had likely doubled in his absence.

  Upon seeing his most faithful servant and friend, Norrex offered a feral grin. Standing, the pantheryn straightened his shimmering robes that matched his emerald eyes. Holding out his hands in welcome, Norrex waited as Dobah made his way to him. The orc knelt deeply, bowing his head and revealing his deep devotion. The minions present dared not speak a word during such an exchange.

  Placing a clawed hand on Dobah’s shoulder, Norrex’s silky voice lightened the room. “Arise, old friend. You are most welcome in my sight,” said the pantheryn.

  At the behest, Dobah stood, removing the hood that shadowed his features. His face told a story with scars as long tufts of ashen hair fell past his shoulders. For those that knew of his great restraint, the smile on Dobah’s face was a severe indication of the pride he felt in such a moment. “It is good to be home, even if such a respite must be short. I carry ever on the wind of your command and the will of Moreg,” he said.

  Norrex laughed softly at this, waving casually with a hand. “I have no need of such assurances from you, Dobah. You have proven your worth and your devotion through power and action. You please me, but more so, you please our master,” he said before motioning to the keep that held them. “This stronghold is testament of this. Every day our strength grows. Every day we accept more who have learned the absolute truth that is offered by Moreg. Soon, preparations shall begin for the next step as we unfurl the glory and word. Be proud, my devout pupil, and revel in your hand in that.”

  “Thank you, my master,” said Dobah with a deep nod.

  Norrex smiled coldly once more as he sat down again upon his throne. “You have been busy. The information you have gathered has been invaluable as we forge our new campaign. Soon we shall be prepared to emerge from the shadows as a true and unstoppable threat.”

  Dobah clenched a fist to his heart. “And this time shall be quickly upon us, master. I have grown a web of our minions that stretch as far as Lunamorn. They continue to gather vital information and will be prepared to strike when necessary,” said the orc.

  “Yes. Our influence will soon run unchecked like wildfire,” said Norrex. “For now, we can bide our time and revel in the benefits of your diligence. This moment of gathering strength gives us some precious moments, Dobah. Moreg and I would like you know how you would wish to treasure such time, for you have earned the glory of such a choice,” he said.

  Dobah thought deeply then, absorbing the question completely before offering a response. “I have done so much in the shadows, master. I have followed your decree to the letter. Perhaps, at least for now, I wish to indulge again out in the open,” he said.

  “Ha!” laughed Norrex as he pointed at his comrade. “I knew it. You crave battle and wish to wield the power in your possession fully again and please our master with the extent of your strength,” he added.

  Dobah nodded. “Yes, master. I feel the time for such an account is now,” said the orc.

  Norrex leaned back upon his throne. “Then it is done, Dobah. The time has come for you to play, so to speak. What would you do with such an opportunity?” he asked.

  Dobah was immediate in his response. “Vengeance, my master,” he replied.

  A slow, yet deep smile etched on the lips of Norrex. “Ah, so you wish to finish the fight our nuisances started then?” he asked.

  “I do,” said Dobah as he approached his master. “They have showed their paltry defiance. Not only do I wish revenge upon them, but I wish to reveal to the world Moreg’s power. I want their fallen bodies to be a message against those who would be foolish enough to oppose us. And for you, as further testament of my loyalty, I wish to bring you the remains of a weed,” he said.

  Norrex scratched under his chin casually with his finely sharpened claws. “That seems sincere, but I hope there is more to it than that,” he said.

  “Of course,” said Dobah. “Before I bring you that weed, before he falls by my hand, he will suffer. We will gather his friends. We will break down his spirit. And when he knows the true meaning of despair and defeat…then that is when he will be vanquished for good. And that will be the end of the troubles wrought by Theophilus Thistle and his allies,” he said.

  At this, full, mad laughter spilled from Norrex as the surrounding minions joined in. Eventually, Norrex held up a hand and deathly silence returned. “This is quite pleasing, Dobah, and I love the image you have painted for me. I grant you free leave to carry out this desire, with only one addition to it,” he said.

  “Anything, my lord,” said Dobah.

  Norrex leaned in before speaking. “If possible, you bring me that insufferable weed alive, so that I may see his final moments, myself,” he said.

  “It would be an honor and pleasure,” said the orc.

  “Outstanding,” said Norrex as he clasped his hands and stood. He started to exit the throne room, motioning for Dobah to join him. “Then let there be celebration for your return and your righteous venture, for soon there will further cause to rejoice. But before you begin your preparation, I must offer one sliver of advice,” said the pantheryn.

  Dobah looked at him curiously. “What is it, master?” he asked.

  Norrex halted before leaning in closer to Dobah. “Use caution, old friend, for I fear that someone watches over those blessed with the light. Moreg is at last seeing those gifted with such blessing and the current thorn in our side, so to speak, is one of them. They are bolstered by the light and they are bolstered by this unseen guardian. So again, I say, be on your guard.”

  Dobah looked about, feeling his confidence breached even within his stronghold. “Who is it,” he asked, afraid to finish his query. “Is it the Dreamer?”

  At the question, Norrex laughed and spat disgust at the utterance of such a name. “No, not this time. Our master has seen to that. No, this is something else, some desperate attempt to delay the inevitable. But just the same, do not take such things lightly,” he said.

  “Then I will offer the lack of mercy that I a
m renown for,” said Dobah.

  “And I would expect and accept no less from you, Dobah,” said Norrex. “Stay your course and let Moreg continue to fuel your black heart on the righteous path. Soon we will seal our master’s victory. Soon we will pave the way for a new future. And even sooner, we shall enact our retribution on that troublesome weed and those who are foolish enough to follow him.”

  At these words, Norrex laughed more deeply than before as he and Dobah further prepared for their next steps at madness and glory.

  Librarian Problems

  Mr. Dackett held steadfast to his post, arms crossed, knowing that the day for battle was again upon him. From his library counter, the aged librarian shifted all his focus to the front doors, ready and waiting for the enemy to strike. He took a moment to adjust his battered glasses, making his stern gaze more vivid. The weariness of his bones was momentarily forgotten as he prepared himself for another bout.

  Before Mr. Dackett, the sun revealed itself easily through the doors each time they opened, yet he did not concern himself with this. All that mattered was seeing every patron that entered his domain. He’d lost battles before, but Mr. Dackett refused to lose the war. Today was his day and would not be tarnished by circumstance, treachery, or the sharp mind one particular thorn in his side.

  As Mr. Dackett remained vigilant at his post, a young man came up to the counter with a question. “Excuse me, sir, do you work here?” he asked nervously.

  Mr. Dackett fought the urge to take his eyes from the doors, though he did indulge himself and rolled them, for the question was either a true sign of ignorance or a ploy. “A horrible question to ask the person behind the counter, young man. And a shame you wasted your inquiry in such a way. Now, begone,” he snapped.

  The young man blinked in utter disbelief. “But, but…” he stammered.