See The Adventures of Woody and Hairy for a prologue...
on with the story...
Woody and the Snakes: Part 1 – Sliders and Warm Beer
Woody and the Snakes; a tale in progress.
Part 1 – Sliders and Warm Beer
Morden surveyed the array of foods and spices before him. All required ingredients for his next masterpiece were in place. All except for one…
“Garlic! Zair is not enough garlic!” he bemoaned. “Well, zis cannot do! No, no, no, no, no. I must get more at once.”
Garlic was Morden’s favorite spice, virtually every dish he concocted was ripe with it. A trait that endeared him to more than one member of Snakegod. He untied the knot at his waist that kept his apron in place, removed his apron, neatly folded it, and laid it a counter. He took cooking very seriously and aprons were for cooking, not for fetching supplies.
Walking to the back of the kitchen Morden passed through a door that led to the cellars. The magnificent Clan Hall of Snakegod had many such cellars, but this one was Morden’s favorite. Some of the cellars were places of Arcane Lore and some were the resting places of stores of magnificent weapons and armor. This particular cellar was neither, it was not only the wine cellar, but also a pantry of sorts. A pantry where Morden kept his prized stash of garlic, hidden behind a loose stone under a fake keg of spirits. He whistled a happy tune as he descended the cold stair. Torches and braziers were lit at various intervals to light his way. Having made this journey a thousand times before, he paid very little attention to where he was going.
“Ouch!”
“Oh my,” came Morden’s startled reply. “What is zis?”
“Zis is me Morden, Woody.”
Morden looked closely at the pile of rags that had spoken to him. The voice he recognized, it belonged to one of the newest members of Snakegod, a silly little Mage that looked so completely ridiculous in his vast array of dilapidated equipment that Morden had liked him from the start. Not because of the way he looked, but because of the way he carried himself. Almost like royalty. As a grin spread across Morden’s face, the pile of rags at his feel began to unfurl with feline grace. Soon, familiar shapes began to form. Head. Legs. Torso. It was Woody alright. After one big stretch, and a helping hand from Morden, Woody was on his feet and the two Magi were face-to-face regarding each other.
“Woody, I am so sorry for stepping on your…”
“Head, Morden. You stepped on my head.” Woody finished the sentence.
Morden was horrified. “Oh my! Zis will not do! No, no, no, no, no. Please, let me make it up to you! I will cook you a special meal and everything will be good, yes?”
Woody shrugged. “Sure big guy, I could go for a bite.”
Morden looked immediately relieved and clapped Woody on the back. “First,” Morden said. “I must get some garlic. Yes?”
“Yes.”
Woody followed as Morden led him deeper into the cellar. As they walked, Morden inquired why Woody would be sleeping in such a place when, now that he was a member of Snakegod, had a suite of his own in the upper levels of the Keep.
“I don’t know,” Woody hesitated. “I guess it just sort of fits me. I haven’t known you for that long, so I guess you just wouldn’t understand. Not yet anyways. The rooms are nice, don’t get me wrong, but they’re just so CLEAN and ORDERLY. I just can’t take it, does that make sense?”
Morden nodded that it did, even though he had no idea what the Mage was talking about. The rest of their time in the cellar was pretty much spent in silence, each Mage immersed in his own thoughts. Aside from one very violent bit of vomiting on Woody’s part (he and Cohen had tied one on last night), the trip was swift and successful. Soon both Magi were back in the kitchen.
Having laid the garlic he had retrieved from the dungeon in it’s proper place on the counter, Morden picked up his apron and gingerly tied it around his waist. He neatly folded the sleeves of his robe and prepared to cook yet another great work of art. One that surely would dazzle Woody beyond any experience that he had had before. One that would be savored for a lifetime. One that would live on in glory as the greatest meal ever ingested by this Mage. One that would take him to such culinary delights that he would surely drop to the ground and grovel at the feet of the Master Chef that had deemed him worthy enough to cook for! ONE THAT WOULD…..”
“YO! Morden!” Woody shouted while he waved his hand in front of Morden’s face. “You still with me Champ? You kinda drifted off for a bit…what was her name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“’uh?”
“Her name. The girl that you were just thinking about. Judging by the silly look on your face, I just assumed that you were thinking of some sweet-smelling gal. Was it Gillian? I’d understand that. Gillian is soooo damn HOT! Why, just the thought of her wearing…”
*Ahem* Morden ahemed. He didn’t really want to hear Woody finish that sentence. Besides, he was thinking of food not women. Women were fine and dandy, but food was Morden’s first love.
Morden got to work. As he measured and mixed and kneaded, a thought occurred to Woody.
“You know, Big Guy, I think you deserve a break. You work to much, slaving away like you do for the Snakes, when’s the last time someone cooked for you?”
“What? Cook for me?” Morden blinked in confusion. “Zis will not do. You do not ‘ave the training to ‘andle ze cooking utensils in ‘ere. My grandfather gave me zis stuff. It wouldn’t be proper…”
“Proper, shmoper. Just slow down a bit there Sparky. I wouldn’t dream of using your pots and pans and what-nots. I’m no master chef, I’ll admit that. But what I have is something better!”
“Better?”
“Better. Tell me, have you ever heard of Sliders?”
“No,” came Morden’s hesitant reply.
“Good!” Woody exclaimed with a grin. As Morden stood dumbfounded, unaware of what was to come, Woody plopped his moldy rucksack on the table and began to root through it. Before long, he had drawn forth a paper sack that was so stained in grease that one could hardly discern it’s original color. He also produced a large, brown bottle with some sort of amber liquid in it.
“There you go Snapper-Head!” Woody chortled. “Sliders and a 40 of Hams!”
*Sniff* Morden sniffed. A foul aroma had assaulted his sense of smell. Woody stood before him beaming. Morden’s mind raced…how was he going to get out of this without offending his new clan-mate. “Please, Woody. Zis will not do. No, no, no, no, no. I will cook for you, it is what I do best. Please don’t…”
He never uttered another word.
Woody ripped open the greasy sack and produced a square sandwich looking thingy and shoved it into Morden’s mouth.
Morden began to hack and gag.
Before Morden could spit out the vile concoction, Woody had removed the top from the bottle and shouted with joy “Cannon-Ball!!! Cannon-Ball commin’!!!” Woody shoved the bottle into Morden’s mouth and tilted the bottle, before Morden could spit out the “Slider” and was forced to drink the foul liquid.
Morden’s hacks and gags increased in their violence.
Time became a blur, it was all happening too fast. Morden’s new reality was Slider-Hams-Slider-Hams. The whole time, in between each alternating putrid sensation, Woody was there yelling “Cannon-ball! Cannon-Ball commin’!!”
Finally the pain had stopped. Morden had ingested everything that Woody had forced on him and now he began to regain his senses. Woody stood before him, grinning a stupid little grin and eating one of those hell-spawned sandwiches and washing it down with Hams beer.
“Pretty damn good huh?” Woody said with a mouth full of food. “See, sliders are truly an American cuisine. Most people I know only find they have a taste for them at like 2am or so. Not me! I love ‘em! And this beer. Have you ever tasted better? They pretty much quit making it a while back, said some crap about nobody buying it. Well, not me, no sir, I LOVE IT! I found an old warehouse in Arizona, in the desert, that has hundreds and hundreds of cases of the stuff. Just sitting there in the hot sun, waiting for me, all for me!”
Morden began to feel a stir. A bad one. He could feel his face flushing with each ridiculous word this Mage spoke. He had found his anger and it arose in his throat like bile. Oh, what he would do to this Mage for the pains he had suffered. He began to feel lightning surge through the air and venom was boiling in his veins. What a shame that it had to happen here, in his beloved kitchen. But there was no recourse, this Mage had to die. Violently.
Woody saw the storm brew in Morden’s face. He wasn’t sure what had happened just now that would set Morden off like this but he sure as hell knew trouble when he saw it. Trouble stood before him. “Now, now, what’s this then? Get a bad one did you? No problem-O, I’ve got plenty more, just let me get one for you, heck, I’ll taste it first ok?”
Woody had a hand in the sack as Morden unleashed his fury. Being that he was a bit prepared, as soon as Morden began the incantations of destruction, Woody grabbed the Sliders, the Hams and his moldy sack and took off at a dead run.
“Thanks for the fun Morden,” Woody called over his shoulder. “Gotta be going now!”
At the last second, as Woody turned away from him and ran, Morden checked himself and cancelled the spell he was casting. “Zis will not do! No, no, no, no, no! I will not destroy that which I ‘old dear for zis man. I will let my grandfather help me!” Morden picked up one of his grandfathers pots and said “Grandfather, help me. Be true this day, guide my ‘and.” Morden pulled his arm back and threw the pot with all his might at the retreating Mage.
Splat was getting hungry.
He and Ridcully had been pouring over a set of newly acquired tomes for the last several hours and he was losing focus. He needed food.
“Where are you going?” Asked Ridcully.
“Oh, I’m just going up to the kitchen for a bite to eat. Want anything?”
“Nah.”
Splat walked with a purpose and in no time at all, he had walked down the hall that led to the kitchen and raised his hand to open the door…
*BLAMO*
Splat had raised his hand about half way when the door burst open. The swing of the door took him by surprise and he was flung against the wall. As he hit the wall, a blur of rags fluttered before his eyes and a silver shape, traveling at a great velocity struck the ragged form at the level of Splat’s eyes. Splat heard something that sounded like “Ouch” followed by a wet thud.
For several seconds, Splat was motionless. He waited patiently for the door to swing shut, not out of patience but out of wisdom. The string of obscenities comming from the kitchen burned his ears and he’d just as soon go hungry as walk through that door.
“Aw man,” Splat bemoaned. “I’m so damn hungry I could eat a…a…something BIG, that’s for sure! Crap. No way I’m going in there, Morden seems about ready to take off someone’s head and I sure don’t want it to be mine. Guess I’ll just have to…hey? What’s this?” Splat noticed a small, grease stained paper sack sitting on the floor at his feet. “Helll-o, what have we here?”
***
Morden had calmed down a bit. He had shoved a full clove of garlic into his mouth and the sweet taste had helped to relax him.
Suddenly, he froze.
A sensation was forming in his mouth unlike any other. A sensation of pure rapture. A sensation of velvety ecstasy that was tantalizing his taste buds. The thought shocked him.
“Oh my!” He said in a throaty voice. “Yes! Zis will do quite nicely! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Iz all that they lack! Garlic!”
Morden had found a few of the Sliders that had fallen out of Woody’s bag as he fled on the floor. He quickly added an obscene amount of Garlic to each burger he found and ate voraciously. Soon, he was VERY thirsty and he eye’d the bottle of Hams beer on the counter.
“Zis will NOT do!” Morden wandered over to a cabinet where he kept a small stash of wine and popped a cork. “Mmmmmm,” was the only sound that came from the kitchen over the next several minutes as Morden became one with the Slider.
*Sniff* Ridcully sniffed. “What the HELL is that smell!?!”
“Oh man, Rid, you just gotta try one of these things…THEY’RE AWESOME!”
“I’ll pass thankyouverymuch.”
Woody sat on the corner of Shift’s bed She was good to him and he always seemed to seek her out when in a time of need. He needed her now.
“My God, Woody. What happened to your head? That’s one HELL of a big goose-egg ya got growing there.”
Shift was wrapping some ice in a cloth and she gently applied it to Woody’s injury.
“Don’t ask my sweet, don’t ask…”
====================================
Woody and the Snakes part Two-Point-One: Who’s that girl!
It was a warm sunny day. Woody sat in the courtyard of the Snakegod Castle enjoying the moment. He had at his side, a bag of “Sliders” and a few bottles of warm Ham’s beer. All in all, his impromptu picnic was going beautifully. His thoughts wandered. He was a tad melancholy over the defection of Shaft to the Tarot Clan. Not that he had anything against the Tarot Clan, quite the opposite in fact. It was just that she was one of the driving forces that had prompted him into joining Snakegod. Her and Lok and Lok was gone as well. ‘Oh well,’ he thought. He had made many friends in the meantime and took a degree of solace in that. When he thought of his games of “catch” with Odysseus, his mood cheered up immensely. “Catch” was a game that Woody like to play with unsuspecting companions. It wasn’t *too* painful and it usually made him laugh till his sides hurt. To date, “catch” was the *only* good use he’d found for the Blood Star spell.
Woody’s thoughts focused on the task at hand. That task was savoring his Sliders and Warm Beer. He was just about to shove a burger into his mouth when Strech and his squire appeared at the far end of the courtyard. Woody was about to hail the warrior, but Stretch had his mind set to some serious task and Woody assumed his call would go unheeded.
Stretch crossed the courtyard and made straight for the front gates.
“Hmmmm,” Woody hmmmm’d. “Must be some visitors today.”
His fingers twitched as he gave voice to some words of power and an ethereal ‘day-planer’ appeared in the air before him. It floated a foot or so in front of his face. As he looked at the initial page, it was months behind the current date and the out of date page was filled with ‘to-do’s’.
“Good afternoon day-planner, would you be so kind as to show me today’s activities.”
The dayplanner flitted and fluttered and in short order, the current day was on display. Then the day-planner addressed him. “you have no activities scheduled for today, you have one-thousand-three hundred-fifty-two past events still awaiting action. These actions include, from oldest to newest:”
“Bathe,
Trim nose hair,
Trim eyebrows,
Compliment Gillian,
Innocuously cop-a-feel off the nearest sexy rogue,
Begin phase one of ‘Gut-be-gone’ workout program,
Try out the coffee enema that’s all the rage,
Call your mom…”
Woody waved a dismissive hand and the day-planner vanished.
With his field of vision now unobstructed, he saw Stretch greet some visitors and then turn his horse away to tend other matters. His squire stayed behind and led the visitors right past his shady haven and on too the main keep.
Woody took in the strangers. The squire he dismissed offhand. He’d seen him about and he was every bit as stoic as Stretch. Bound to duty and all that crap. He’d make a fine knight someday, Woody was sure of it. But he’d be a boor to the end, Woody was sure of that too.
Next came an older gentleman. He was very distinguished and a little dangerous looking. Old for sure, but Woody laid immediate odds that the guy could whip many-a-Snakes ass. ‘I won’t be crossing him’ Woody thought to himself.
Last came a vision from the heavens above. A flame haired beauty that had stolen Woody’s heart without a word spoken. She was perfect in every regard. The fact that she looked at the same time vulnerable and deadly made Woody’s heart race. Gillian, shmillian, this was the woman of his dreams.
Woody watched in a dream like state as his Angel crossed the courtyard and disappeared into the main keep. He wolfed down the remainder of his lunch and drifted off to a blissful slumber as thoughts of his Angel danced in his head…
********************
“OOOPHHH”, Woody ooophhh’d. The ooophhhh was followed immediately by all of the air in his lungs leaving said lungs at a great velocity. Immediately after that, he felt a sharp pain in his midsection. As his vision progressed from blurry to partly-blurry, he became aware of two ominous figures towering over him.
“Uhhh, Cohen? Kari? What gives?”
“Ah, shaddap you little puke. We’re here to take you in”, Kari growled.
Woody had always been something special when it came to clarity of purpose. He could go from befuddled to alert at the drop of a hat if the circumstances were right. These circumstances were indeed right. In a microsecond, Woody evaluated the situation, realized the seriousness of the threat before him, snapped out of his lethargy and began a casting of a teleport spell.
“No, no, no. None of that.” Cohen said as soon as Woody’s hands started moving. With those words hanging in the air, Cohen reached down and clasped a necklace around Woody’s neck. As the clasp closed, Woody felt all of his precious mana reserves disappear in an instant. The spell died in his throat. His energy depleted.
“Now,” Cohen continued nonchalantly while Kari scowled. “Be a good little Wizard and come along quietly or I’ll let Kari run you through.”
“Could someone please tell me what the hell is goin…”
A glance from Kari cut off Woody’s sentence badda-bing.
Woody walked with the two Gronks. He was thoroughly confused but realized that he’d be dead or worse if he gave them any gruff. He was more than a little wounded by this treatment. Although he was sure that there MUST be some misunderstanding that would be resolved promptly, the thought of his “friends” treating him so callously had left him numb. He followed nonetheless and soon he was lead to the dungeons and incarcerated. Cohen removed the necklace, shackled Woody to a far wall and turned on his heel and left. Woody’s heart sank as the bolt slid home.
“Why do I always end up in jail…” Woody mused.
“Simple really,” came a familiar voice. “You are here because I have decided that you should be.”
From a corner of the room a robed figure emerged from the shadows.
“DISCORDIA!”
To be continued…
The next chapter of this story will be finished soon, watch for:
Woody and the Snakes part Two-Point-Two: Bring out the Gimp!
Woody was in a state of shock as one surprise followed the next. First, he had been woken from a blissful slumber by Kari’s boot in his midsection. Then he had been escorted to the Snakegod dungeon by Kari and Cohen and was promptly shackled to the wall. Now, Discordia was before him with a silly little grin on his face and he was claiming responsibility for Woody’s current predicament.
“Discordia, what the HELL is going on here?” Woody said angrily.
“Simple, like I said, you’re here because I decided you should be.”
Woody was so thoroughly confused that “Why?” was the only thing that he could manage say.
“Don’t be stupid Woody,” Discordia said. “I’m an Evil Genius remember? Duh! I just get a REALLY big kick out of this sort of thing. Aw, don’t look at me like that, it’s nothing personal. I dig you. You know I do. But, this is my business. The business of scheming and conniving. Geez, why do I always have to explain that part?”
Woody regained a bit of composure. He began to see things very clearly and things were starting to make sense. He was pretty sure that there was an out for him. Discordia never did this sort of thing unless he wanted something despite his claims that his actions were just a personality quirk. “Ok Disc, I figure you want something from me or you wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble. What’s in it for you?”
“Ahhh, to the meat of the matter then.” Discordia chortled with jubilation (he also began to wring his hands…a sure sign of an Evil Genius with an agenda). “Okee, dokee then, let’s get too it. Whelp, I can’t get too deep into the details, but basically I want you to sign a contract. The language of the contract states that you will do me a favor when I ask for it, no matter what it is. The favor I ask is likely to involve murder, mayhem, chaos, etc. Whatever I need at the time. You know, your basic Evil Genius stuff, fairly intuitive. In return, I will clear up this little mess you’re in.”
Woody was at a loss.
“Close your mouth Woody, there’s one more thing. To seal the deal, I need something very dear to your heart. You know, to make the contract magically binding. You have to give me your Clumsy Bow of the Pit.”
“What?!? Why do I need to give it to you? If it’s the bow you want, you could easily go take it while I’m rotting I this dungeon!”
“NO!” Discordia said with frustration. “No. It doesn’t work like that. You have to give it to me of your own free will. That’s what makes the spell work. Good God man, and you call yourself a Wizard…”
Woody felt as if the world was spinning out of control. As he fought to gain control, he gave the situation some thought. Maybe Discordia was bluffing? It sure wouldn’t be the first time and bluffing is a standard operating procedure for Evil Genius types. If he wasn’t, things could get a bit messy. Woody decided to take his chances. He’d always been a little slippery when his bacon was in the fire and this wouldn’t be the first time he faced this sort of peril.
“You can have my Clumsy Bow of the Pit when you pry it from my dead, cold fingers.” Woody said, straightening his back, steel in his voice.
Discordia flashed a look of disappointment. “You’re sure about that?”
“Yep.”
“Okee, dokee then. Sad to say that you feel that way. You really don’t have any idea how true your words are. I WILL get that bow you know. See you around Woodmeister.” Discordia gave voice to a word of power and disappeared.
‘So that’s it,’ Woody thought. ‘He just wants the bow.’
Woody’s mind raced over every detail of his stay with the Snakes. He tried to find any bit of incriminating evidence that Discordia might have to frame him and he came up empty. Before long, Cohen and Kari returned. Woody noted with despair that they were dressed in full armor and Cohen looked even more agitated than before. The two warriors flanked Woody and escorted him out of the cell.
Woody stumbled along as best he could. It became clear that he was being led to the main audience chamber of the Queen. His nerves got even tighter still when he noticed that there weren’t any Snakes about. The castle was usually alive with activity at this time of day as various Snakes went about their business. Soon, they had reached the main entrance to the audience chamber. Stretch was there and as the three approached, he opened the door and announced their arrival.
“Cohen the Barbarian, Kari fan of Kariya, and Woody the dirty rotten lowlife, request entrance into the Queen’s audience chamber.”
“Show them in,” the Queen intoned formally.
Woody’s heart sank. The ENTIRE fellowship of the Snakegod Clan was in attendance. Most of the faces he recognized, some he didn’t. Regardless, EVERY Snake looked downright pissed. Woody saw that Discordia stood near the dais with the rest of the Court. As he was led to the dais, Woody noted certain Snakes more than others. Snakes that seemed even angrier than the rest.
Haplo kept whining over and over something about Mac ‘N Cheese. Morden’s face was as red as his most prized burgundy. Jimi had a hand to his forehead as if he was keeping his head from exploding. Woody even noticed that Stretch was walking a little funny in front of him.
Woody was brought to a halt before the Queen who regarded him coldly.
“Sir Woodrow Grabowski,” The Queen said.
‘Uh, oh,’ Woody thought. ‘This can’t be good. She used my full name…’
“You have been held against your will for crimes against the Snakegod clan. You are here to answer for those crimes.” There were angry murmurs from the assembly. “Before I get to the charges, I have something to say. Of all the things that can seduce a person, treason against ones companions is the lowest. I’d rather be passing judgment on you for murder than the crimes that bring you before me today. Now, on to the charges…Ridcully…”
Ridcully came forward and handed the Queen a rolled up parchment. Make that a BIG rolled up parchment. The Queen took it and Ridcully resumed his place with the court.
“Sir Woodrow Grabowski, you stand before us accused of the following crimes.” As she said that, the Queen grabbed the parchment at the top and let go of the rest. The parchment fell to the ground and proceeded to unravel itself down the dais, past Woody, down the Hall, and out the door.
Woody Groaned.
“In no particular order,” the Queen said as she read the charges.
“The willful and malicious siphoning of all the cream filling from the Snakegod stash of Twinkies.”
“The replacement of all of Jimi’s coffee with decaf.”
“The thievery of Morden’s supply of garlic and the replacement of said garlic with Lowery’s Seasoning Salt.”
“The coating of one codpiece with Icey-Hot.” Stretch growled at that charge.
“The removal of Haplo’s Mac ‘N Cheese, note that particular brand is the ‘Cheesiest’, and replacing it with a generic grocery store brand.”
“Breaking and entering into the Ridcully Institute and tampering with the proprietor of said Institutes magic oracle. The Oracle in question WAS imbibed with the spirit of Linux. It NOW holds the spirits of DOS 4.2 and Desqview/X.”
The Queen paused for a moment and scanned the rest of the charges. “Yadda-yadda-yadda. The list goes on, how do you plea?”
Although he was dumbfounded, Woody immediately and defiantly stated “Not guilty!”
The Queen motioned to Discordia who joined her on the dais. Discordia began an enchantment and an image appeared in the air above the assembly. The vision showed Woody in the act of committing every crime he had been charged of. As the last of the vision faded…
“I will now pass judgement. Even though you deny the charges like a coward, the proof before you is indisputable. It is my decree that you be spanked unmercifully until such a time that I feel you have learned your lesson. Let’s see,” the Queen said as she tapped a fingernail against her teeth. “Last time I handed out this punishment, it lasted a fortnight. Yeah, that sounds about right. Cohen! Kari! Put him in the position.
Cohen and Kari grabbed Woody and had him stand between two pillars that supported the Audience Chamber. A chain was attached to each pillar and a shackle was at the end of each chain. Amazingly enough, the chain was just tight enough to keep Woody’s arms taught and he was barely able to stand flat-footed.
“Petunia,” The Queen commanded. “This is your area of expertise. You may begin.”
“If it’s all the same my Queen,” Petunia said. “I’ve been sorta ‘training’ a couple of ladies in the arts of spanking and I’d love to give them the opportunity to administer the punishment.”
“As you wish.”
Petunia motioned and out from behind a curtain came Gillian. She was wearing a transparent baby-doll teddy, silk stockings, a garter belt, and stiletto heels. She carried a feather duster. The way she walked over to Woody made his blood boil, this was indeed the realization of his dreams.
“Yeah baby, YEAH!” Woody whooped with joy. “C’mon Gillian, punish me baby, I’ve been a VERY naughty boy!”
Gillian sauntered over to Woody and gave him a teasingly soft kiss on the cheek. “You wish,” she said as she stood off to one side.
“Bring out the Gimp!” Petunia shouted.
From behind another curtain emerged another bombshell. This one however was clad in bondage-like black leather from head to toe. Not a single bit of skin showed and she carried a Cat ‘O Nine Tails. Make that a Cat ‘O Nine Tails with little pointy spikes on the end. Make that a Cat ‘O Nine Tails with RUSTY little pointy spikes on the end.
Woody began to shake uncontrollably.
“Mmmmm,” Gillian purred in his hear, again coming close to him. The Gimp was now before him. “It gets much worse, if you can believe it.”
The Gimp removed her hood.
“NO!” Woody shouted in agony. “NOT YOU! ANYONE BUT YOU!!!” His heart was breaking. Before him, clad in dominatrix leather, was none other than Chrysoli.
She smiled a crooked little smile that would have turned him to putty at any other time. Woody was to devastated to notice…
********************
“WOODY! WAKE UP DAMMIT!”
Woody awoke with a start. He was drenched in a cold sweat and Splat knelt at his side and was furiously shaking him.
“Get up already! You’re late for the gathering, Rid sent me to fetch you.”
Woody looked around and he was laying under his favorite tree. The remains of his lunch were at his side. He jumped up and bear-hugged Splat. “Whoo Hoo! It was only a dream!” Woody shouted with joy. He looked sideways at the mostly eaten Sliders…”That’s the last time I eat those before taking a nap!” He said with finality.
Woody and Splat took off at a full run and soon they were in attendance of the gathering for Serin and Chrysoli. Woody couldn’t stop staring at her…
To be continued…
The next chapter of this story will be finished soon, watch for:
Woody and the Snakes part Two-Point-Three: Just a hunka-hunka-burning-love.
Woody stood transfixed throughout the whole gathering. All of the Clan of Snakegod was in attendance for the reception of Serin and Chrysoli and while something rather serious seemed to be taking place, Woody was oblivious to it. He only had an awareness of Chrysoli. The way she stood. The way she looked vulnerable and strong as she held the tolkens of her sister's legacy. The trace of her jawline. The fire in her spirit. Everything that transpired over the course of the gathering took on an ethereal quality. An other-worldly vagueness that Woody refused to allow to intrude on his reverie. At one point, as Chrysoli approached the dais to greet the Queen, Chrysoli met his gaze. It was nothing more than a passing observance but Woody still remembered, even now as he sat in his room reliving the gathering, the distinct feeling of his heart stopping. One very small part of his consciencness fought for control. The control of sanity. The control of sanity that would allow Woody to summon forth the entire cast of ER, complete with a magical crash-cart, so that they might encourage his heart to beat once more. Woody didn't allow sanity to gain control. For that split second, he allowed himself to drink in the agony and pain that he felt this woman would surely inflict. The pain and agony of devoting yourself to someone that would never realize your devotion.
After the Gathering had dispersed, Chrysoli had left with Shadowdancer. Surely on her way to her new quarters in the Castle of Snakegod. Oh yeah, that part was NOT missed. Chrysoli had forsaken her past ties to her family in order to join the Clan. She would be training with the Sisters and busy most of the day, but she would be around nonetheless. That made it worse.
"The question now is 'What to do'?" Woody mumbled to himself. He was pacing back and forth in his room, wrestling with the next step. Actually, he was just sort of spinning in a circle. His room was such a mess that it was fairly impossible to find a good, clear stretch of floor to pace on.
Woody had a revelation.
He traversed the garbage littering his floor and soon stood before his mirror. There, he took a good long look at himself. This time, his reflection seemed clear. Hiding behind a tattering of rags and rusted metal was a well groomed, handsome man.
Woody knew now what it would take to win Chrysoli. He'd have to make changes to his entire way of life. He'd have to don the appearance of a respectable man. Without such changes, surely Chrysoli would never give him the chance to show her what kind of man he was. He'd lose without ever getting a chance to win.
Several hours later, standing in an immaculately cleaned room, Woody dismissed the Golem. While Woody occupied himself by washing down a bag of Sliders with a Forty of Hams, the Golem had cleaned his room top to bottom. Now, having served it's purpose, it returned to the stone that had spawned it.
Standing before his bed, Woody removed what was until recently, his most cherished belongings. Soon, his trove of delightfully cursed armor, weapons and jewelry was laid out on his bed and he stood alone dressed in the clothes of his heritage. Clothes that no one in the Castle had ever seen. A collar-less, long sleeve, white cotton shirt with a string tie that started at his sternum and ended at his neckline, doe-skin trousers and moccasins. Woody resisted the urge to walk over to the mirror for fear that seeing himself in these clothes would recall the memories. Instead, with nothing but the clothes on his back, he weaved mana into a spell that instantly transported him to that oh-so-familiar red chasm near Gillians.
A short while later…
Woody stood in a haze of dizziness in his favorite Clearing. A Clearing that no one else seemed to ever intrude upon. It wasn't the shiny magical items at his feet that had been making him dizzy. It was the Rush. Never before had Woody felt such raw power seep through his veins. Before he had descended the chasm, he had refreshed his reserves of mana to a degree he'd never experienced. The pure energy that the Rush produced had made him feel nearly invulnerable. But, feelings of invincibility or no, he snapped out of it when it came time to take care of business. Woody always knew when to focus at the task at hand and with his determination, the denizens of the underworld stood not a chance. Before long, with his increased magical potential, Woody had slain every last monster shy of The Lord of Terror's lair. His efforts were rewarded with the pile of magical artifacts that were on the ground at his feet.
Even though he was beginning to doubt the sanity of this endeavor, he dressed himself in the treasures none the less. On his head he placed a Cap that made the world around him immensely clearer. As he looked across the Clearing, he could clearly see the remnants of raindrops that clung to the leaves on trees. He dressed in a set of Plate Mail that had the look and texture of smoky crystal yet the weight of tin. Over his shoulder he looped a large shield made of Cobalt and at his belt hung a Mace that gave him the strength of the Titans. His transformation was complete with a ring on each finger, one of which enhanced the feeling of euphoria as yet more magic Rushed through his veins.
"Whelp," Woody said with an exhaled breath. "If you're gonna be a bear, you might as well be a Grizzly." With purposeful steps, Woody strode to the Snakegod Castle.