The Spectre Unveiled
So far no daemons had noticed the little group as they made their way towards the Temple of Tzunki. Y'ttar scurried through the streets of the city, furtively looking in all directions for signs of danger. Bo’b followed hot on his strangely thin tail.
@JamJar the kroxigor kept pace with his massive paces. Lord Dar’k-IV was also there.
????
Who are we kidding? Lord Dar’k-IV left glistening eddies of magical interference dissipating from the intricate stonework of his palanquin as it cruised through the streets like a shark, the slann’s rubbery skin vibrating with each new turn, as the winds coursed past, his bulging eyes shielded from their vehemence by a flabby wrist.
“Jamjar have joke,” said the kroxigor.
“I think you mean, ‘Jamjar has a joke’, although really you should use the first person when...oh nevermind.”
“A slann, a kroxigor, a saurus and a rat walk into a daemon-infested city-”
“Lies! Lies!”
“Jamjar not know why, but Jamjar always think you are rat.”
Y'ttar stopped looking around the streets in terror for signs of daemons and instead looked at Jamjar in terror.
“Jamjar
does not know why,” said Bo’b.
“Lies! Li- no! Truth! Truth!”
“Anyway,” continued the kroxigor, amicably, as Y'ttar relaxed slightly. “A slann, a kroxigor, a saurus and a skink-rat thing walk into a daemon-infested city-”
“Temple City PD! Nobody make a move!”
“Who the heck are you?” Bo’b asked the sudden newcomer, a skink in a large trench-vestment and fehd-or’ah hat.
“Name’s
Mer-fi, Priest Department. This here’s my city.”
“I can read your thoughts,” said Lord Da’rk-IV. All eyes turned to him.
“You can...talk? What happened to show don’t tell?” inquired Bo’b
“Oh, it’s perfectly fine to provide exposition if it’s done dramatically,” explained the slann. “Or if it’s in the service of a cheap laugh. I will now project Priestective Mer-fi’s thoughts into your minds.”
Of all the temple-precincts in Lustria, Chaos spawn just had to walk into mine. My head still felt like it was infested with a host of daemons of its own after what happened with the fiery dame last night. And now this chorus of jokers, as if I didn’t have enough on my plate with the case, and now the daemon infestation…
“A bit cliche, for a genre,” opined Bo’b.
“Jamjar prefer romcom. Or anything with jars.”
“What case-thing is policeman talk-thinking about?” inquired Y'ttar with his best attempt at sounding innocent. “If it is the issue-problem of the suspicious tunnel-passages appearing all around-underneath city, Y'ttar assures-promises you Y'ttar knows nothing about it. Y'ttar was staying with clan-family in Scavenbl- Scalenblight at the time it happened, Y'ttar has witnesses! Y’ttar also had nothing to do with poisoning the spawning pool of Kara.”
Mer-fi glared at him.
I didn’t trust the guy for a second - looked like just another weasel to me, or something close to weasel at least. Could be a useful informant though. And what was with this spawnofabtich projecting all my thoughts? It was really getting on my-
“I’m not working that case, sonny,” Mer-fi interrupted himself, trying to hide his irritation. “I’m on the case of the mysterious ghost writer.”
The others gasped.
“Not the mysterious ghost writer!” squealed Bo’b, suddenly looking as shifty as Y'ttar.
“We’ve all been wondering about the mysterious ghost writer,” said Da’rk-IV. “How about we help you crack it if you help us avoid the daemons and get to the Temple of Tzunki?”
The Priestective narrowed his eyes. “I work alone.”
Jamjar raised his knife.
“What is it, big guy?”
“Is that him?” asked the kroxigor earnestly. He pointed at a suspicious shadow, which could be clearly seen holding a typewriter. The ghost looked up, saw it had been spotted, and bolted around a corner.
“Well damn.” said Mer-fi. “Let’s get him!”
At the same moment there was a hideous shriek in the opposite direction. Everyone looked to the other end of the street. A roiling horde of daemons was coming into view, the foremost riding living disk-creatures.
“Quick! Onto my palanquin!” ordered Mer-fi. Bo’b, Y'ttar and Jamjar squeezed on, with Da’rk-IV following behind on his own.
“It’s a three-way chase!” said Bo’b.
“Now you’re just telling for the sake of it. We can clearly see it’s a three-way chase,” whined Da’rk-IV. “The proceedings shall be henceforth described in clear, concise language that says nothing explicit about the characters’ emotions:”
Bo’b’s ears filled with the roar of onrushing wind, clutching his eggshell tight with one claw to prevent it flying off, its muted, creamy colours providing a stark contrast to the lurid cacophony of sights, sounds and smells among the screeching daemons. Meanwhile the shadowy form of the ethereal ghost writer was coming into view up ahead-
“Jamjar bored.”
“Yes I think we get the idea, my Lord,” said Bo’b, testily. “Let’s skip to the end, shall we?”
Da’rk-IV sulked.
The chase ended. They had evaded the daemons and caught the ghost writer, conveniently, on the very steps of the Temple of Tzunki.
“Finally, time to unmask this spawnofabitch,” said Mer-fi, tugging at the ghost’s costume. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this-”
“Wait!” cried Bo’b. “Uh, I uh, we need to complete our urgent mission at the temple of Tzunki.” He glanced around nervously, and then sprinted off up the steps towards the distant summit. Now it was Y'ttar who looked nervous...or at least even more nervous than usual.
“I have to be with Bo’b! Must complete very important assass- mission for the Great Horn- Old Ones! Yes! Ciao!” He too scurried off.
“You know what,” said Da’rk-IV. “I think we’ve had too much action for one story. I’m off as well.” He floated away in an unspecified direction, the subtle features of his face forming a somewhat melancholy-
“Huh, no one wants to see the ghostwriter unmasked?” said Mer-fi to himself.
“Jamjar still here. Jamjar curious,” stated the kroxigor.
“Fair enough.” The Priestective pulled off the ghost’s mask.
“Oh,” said Jamjar. “It’s-”
TO BE CONTINUED
