The First Adventure: The Story of How I Saved the Universe (or 'Every Time You Stab a Man in the Uvula, a Depressed Alcoholic Gets His Wings')
by Evan Forman and Michael Robertson - 16.11.2013 (Updated 18.04.15)
| Table of Contents |
| Chapter 1 - Palace of Doom |
| Chapter 2 - A Knight to Remember |
The knight escorted Aerin to
a little table in the dark corner of the room, his armour
clanking as he fell into his small wooden chair. "So tell me,
poet, what kind of man wanders the world with a name like John
Boss?"
Aerin stopped his rising arm with the drink just off his lips
and pointed at the knight. "Right, firstly, I'm not-"
"A wanted fugitive in seven kingdoms! That's what." Lockswell
had shot forward and was leaning across the table. "John
Boss...he is a madman, swindler, and a murderer!"
"So...you've heard of him?"
"Fifteen years I have hunted that foul demon! I have crossed the
deserts of Collisterra, I have trudged through the bogs of
Dryadora, I have walked my native Lautusshire a hundred times,
over the Orcadian mountains, I have even braved the trembling
horrors of The Abyss! And for what? For him to have fled once
again, out from justice's grip!"
"Well." Aerin stated, nodding in fear for his life. "Surely
there are easier criminals to catch? Whose combined bounties
would pay more than whatever the price on this one man's head
is?"
Lockswell scowled. "This one man's head, would fetch you seven
hundred thousand gold in Lautusshire, nine hundred and forty
denarion in Collisterra, or one million seven hundred thousand
Dryadoran silvers, nine hundred thousand gold in Valenshire.
Just here in Magnusshire his head would fetch eight hundred
thousand, dead, alive, it matters not. Except in Collisterra.
They want him in five separate lockboxes or not at all."
"Right. So if John Boss is such a prolific criminal, how come
I've never heard of him 'til this afternoon?"
"Because nobody believes he exists! These bounties aren't
advertised because they've been accumulating for over a thousand
years! How is that possible? Some people think 'John Boss' is
just a false name used by hundreds of criminals through the
centuries, some people think he's just some kind of obscure
inside joke among record keepers. But I..." he pointed "...I
know the truth."
"Which is?"
"'John Boss' is not his real name, it's the closest translation
our language has to the ancient 'Djonbus': an immortal demon,
maybe even a demi-god, who travels the world performing
murderous feats of skill and cunning to captive audiences.
Djonbus is said to be have been the court jester during the
reign of the Immortal, over two millennia ago."
"I've never heard of any of that either."
"These legends are only passed on around campfires in the
northern desert. But I know their truth, I have seen the face of
evil with my own eyes."
"I'd ask what happened, but I'm sure-"
"I was six years old. I was awoken by a noise in the night. I
took a candle as I crept down the stairs, and I saw it. My
father lay there, his limbs had been twisted and he writhed in a
pool of his own blood. There was a thud, and I turned and caught
a glimpse of him. Huge, muscular and terrifying, with one red
eye burning in his head. In a second he was gone. In the
following weeks, I discovered a suit of armour that had belonged
to my great-great-grandfather. He, too, had been a knight slain
in the dark, and I, Sir James Lockswell, will be the one to
vanquish this deathless creature."
"Okay." Aerin sat in silence. "Good luck with that."
"And with your knowledge, we shall surely catch him within the
'morrow."
"What?"
"And with your knowledge, we shall surely catch him within the
'morrow."
Aerin was frozen holding his drink, halfway through the motion
of leaving his chair. "I'm...I...I can't come with you, I'm
actually travelling at the moment and-"
Lockswell chuckled. "You most certainly are travelling at the
moment, pack what scant things you possess, we leave at dawn!"
He got up from his chair and strode off upstairs to his room.
Aerin couldn't think of a single way to get out of this
agreement that didn't end with Lockswell tracking him down
across the kingdom and strangling him in his sleep. Maybe not
tonight, maybe not even this year, but someday. He barely slept
that night, his only solace the idea that Lockswell might split
the reward.
~ The Next Morning... ~
Aerin barely spoke as he trudged over the drawbridge, out
from the shadow of the city's impenetrably high stone walls and
into the vague light of the gray dawn. Lockswell marched ahead,
undeterred by the weight of his sword, a bow, a quiver of
arrows, and a knapsack on his back, constantly looking back
through the slits of his helmet to check that Aerin hadn't tried
to flee. Aerin kicked a stone in front of him for most of the
journey. "Have you spent the past fifteen years just walking
around the entirety of W-"
"Oh, how I lament my trusty steed! A shining white steed was he,
trustier than any man or woman I have ever known, faster than
lightning striking true with a heart of gold! He slipped on an
icy puddle and fell down a hill last Autumn."
"That's awful."
"Yeah."
As they approached Sanusville, Aerin reflected on the events
that had led him here: falling palaces, drinks which created
towering blasts of fire, a man who seemed to view certain death
as a minor occupational hazard. He thought about last night's
half-bewildered applause, and then he had an idea. If there is a
five-word sentence that is guaranteed to make a bestseller, it's
'based on a true story'. But first he needed to research his
subject.
"So you've been following John Boss, or the Djonbus, for a
decade and a half. Does he leave every town he visits like
this?"
"He isn't always quite this destructive, but he's always
been...there. Where history is freed up into myth, you will find
John Boss. Some say he lost his eye in a poker game of which he
was the only survivor. Some say he has literal brass knuckles,
because he lost all ten of his original fingers in ten separate
incidents. In the pirate city at the heart of the Collisterran
Sea, they flat-out refused to speak of him! I was once told that
he constructed a car out of a dozen firework merchant's
carriages and used it to chase the sand serpent Ahrak'Noc
through the dunes that he may retrieve Vorrisean's Diamond Sword
from one of her twelve stomachs."
"Wait, sorry, what's a 'car'?"
"Nobody knows."
Black rocks of debris started cropping up around them as they
traversed the singed landscape surrounding the frame of the
Stallion and Mare. Aerin ducked down through the warped
doorframe as Lockswell got down on one knee and inspected the
the outline of two footprints in the middle of the floor which
had been untouched by the flames. "This is the place, these
footprints are where my arch-nemesis stood not more than a day
ago." He took off his gauntlet and ran his index finger across
one of the footprints, brought it up to his nose and rubbed it
against his thumb to take in the scent of his prey. "Rum,
whiskey, wine, soot..." He recoiled back a little, and flipped
up the visor of his helmet so Aerin could see his confused face.
"...lavender and camomile?"
"He did seem very clean for an insane fugitive."
"You said he was wearing a bathrobe, didn't you?"
"Not really 'wearing' so much as 'utilising', but yes."
"Hmmm..." Lockswell thought for a moment. "What kind of man
makes sure to take a bath before blowing up an inn and getting
covered in dirt?" Silence. He looked over at Aerin. "No, really,
that wasn't a rhetorical question."
"Umm...a man who wanted to make a good first impression? Maybe?"
Lockswell snapped his fingers and quickly rummaged through his
knapsack. He pulled out a small book and flipped through it
while murmuring to himself. "There!" He slammed his finger down
on a page. "My last recorded sighting of John Boss in
Magnusshire was a year ago. Of course that bastard would want to
make an entrance!"
"Into an entire kingdom?"
"Of course!" In seemingly one movement he was up and right in
Aerin's face, his potentially years-old breath infesting Aerin's
nose. "Think about it! When he arrived in the kingdom through
the roof of this building," he gestured to the empty sky, "what
was your reaction?"
"Pure terror."
"Maybe, but once you'd arrived in the safety of Magnus, you
excitedly told nearly a hundred people about it."
"Well, yes, but-"
"And how many other people were in the Stallion and Mare when
this all happened?"
"About twenty."
Lockswell stepped back, pacing around what was once the room.
"Now, if everyone were as prolific a storyteller as you, that's
an audience of nearly two thousand people. Not only that, but
those two thousand people's versions of the tale will very
slightly exaggerate themselves, let alone the salacious third
and fourth and fifth-hand accounts of all the tales that came
before."
The puzzle pieces clicked in Aerin's head. "That's...that's
brilliant!"
"That is the work of the Djonbus. A creature of myth that feeds
off its own legends. So, are you sitting comfortably?"
"I'm not even sitting."
"Good." Aerin jumped as Lockswell excitedly drew his sword.
"Because this is the last tale they will ever tell of the demon
called John Boss!"
~ Hours Later... ~
Close to sundown, they reached a town called Ludorena, far in
the direction which John Boss had fled the day before. Along the
road they had come across a masked man with no trousers sleeping
on a large rock. He awoke, some blood having dried into the side
of his head, and told them of the 'shadow' that had attacked
him. A terrifying giant - more like a cyclops - whose form
reflected no light and whose demonic grin made his blood run
cold. Aerin and Lockswell instantly recognised this creature,
and as they helped him up and took him to the nearby town,
Lockswell told him of the Djonbus.
As they arrived with the masked man from the highway, two guards
told them of the masked highwaymen who had been plaguing the
surrounding area for weeks, and arrested him instantly. "Are you
a knight?" One of them asked Lockswell, as he retrieved the
reward for the highwayman's arrest. "Are you the one they've
finally sent to get rid of these marauders?"
The other guard looked confused. "You think that's him? I
thought the man they'd sent to help get rid of the bandits was
the one from earlier, the one who said he was going to get rid
of the bandits."
"The one with the eyepatch and the moustache?"
Lockswell shot across the room, leaning over the table. "Where."
As he stormed out of the town, towards the bandit camp at the
cliffs, Aerin ran to catch up. "Lockswell! Did you SEE how much
money they were about to give us!?"
"A knight is not swayed by petty gold, his sword strikes only in
the name of the gods."
"Well I'M not a knight! And anyway, aren't knights supposed to
save villages and shit? That's probably in the name of the gods,
and the name of an even bigger reward! If you'd just told them
you were here to save the village from the bandits, we could
have all walked away from this-"
"'Tis not enough to save a paltry village! If one wishes to
achieve the stature of this ancient and noble title, one must
face dangers beyond the frail imaginings of most men, a true
knight must vanquish a demon!"
Aerin stopped questioning as they approached the cliffs. They
crept around the bushes and carefully listened for signs of
life, close enough to see the smoke from the bandits' campfire.
After many long minutes of silence, Lockswell just stood up and
looked down at the settlement, which had been completely
abandoned. By the living. Upon closer inspection, the camp was
now home to a thriving community of corpses.
As they carefully walked through the destroyed camp, it became
clear the bandits hadn't given up without a fight. Swords,
shields, axes, bows, and arrows were scattered around a bloodied
trail which led through the centre of the camp, to the edge of a
cliff. At its tip, John Boss stood with folded arms, staring
down the world below. He'd washed the soot off in the river that
curved around the camp and ended in a waterfall, and was wearing
the ragged trousers he stole from the highwayman, some heavy
boots, and a sword belt - both stolen from the bandits
surrounding them. Sheathed in his belt was the red (stolen)
scimitar of Nazir Al-Zahabi.
Lockswell stepped forwards and drew his bow, taking aim at the
enemy who had now turned to face him. "Djonbus! I am Sir James
Lockswell of Lautusshire. Twenty-four years ago you killed my
father, just as you murdered his father, and his father before
him!"
Boss looked up for a moment in thought, then shook his head.
"Nope. I'd have remembered that. You're not on the arch-nemesis
list."
"I have hunted you across the continent for fifteen years, and
I-"
"And I don't owe you anything. I'm sorry James, but being
Arch-Nemeses goes both ways. That, and I lost a good one just
yesterday, I'm not ready for another centuries-old blood feud. I
just don't hate you that way."
"Enough of your demonic word games, prepare to die!" Lockswell
fired his bow, John Boss grasped at the arrow as it pierced into
his side. His face turned pale, his mouth agape in shock as he
stumbled backwards and fell off the cliff.
Lockswell stood still for a moment, before running to watch his
enemy fall onto the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall.
Although Aerin was slightly horrified that he'd just watched a
human being die, some small but essential part of him was
relieved that this ordeal was finally over. Finally, he could
return to the safety of his normal life, buoyed by a sudden
influx of gold, and focus on his writi-
John Boss leapt up from the below edge of the cliff and stabbed
Lockswell in the eye with the arrow he'd pretended to be hit by.
"Well shit," thought Aerin.
The knight stumbled backwards, screaming as bright red blood
spilled down the whole right side of his face, pulling the arrow
out - along with his eyeball, and throwing it aside before a
deafening battle cry ruptured out of his lungs. He pulled out
his sword and took a clumsy, hateful swing at Boss, who calmly
clasped the blade between his two flat palms, kicked the knight
away and tossed the sword off the cliff and into the abyss
below.
John Boss punched the half-blind Lockswell in the nose, which
sent him stumbling to the ground. The knight tried to punch Boss
in the stomach with his metal fist but his opponent was too
quick. Boss grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him closer, wedged
his fingers into the gaps of Lockswell's armour and kicked him
away, ripping off the entire right arm of his suit. He barely
had time to react before Boss had thrown him to the ground,
placed a hand on his upward-facing elbow and snapped his right
arm cleanly in two. Lockswell screamed in agony as a cavalier
Boss backed off. "Limbs heal. You're free to walk away at any
time, you could always track me down again and try later."
Through gritted teeth, Lockswell spat his words. "No. This ends
here."
Boss stood at the cliff's edge and watched Lockswell push
himself back up with one arm, his other flopping pathetically by
his side. He grabbed a dagger that had been left by one of the
bandits and charged forward to slay the demon that had evaded
him for half his life. As soon as he was in striking distance,
John Boss skipped to the right as the knight stopped just short
of falling off the cliff. Too late. John Boss was already
halfway through the roundhouse kick that sent him screaming into
the abyss.
Aerin stood still near the centre of the camp, frozen in
amazement and fear as John Boss stood and watched the knight
fall. "Sir James Lockswell of Lautusshire" Boss declared. "He
lived a noble life in the pursuit of justice, and in the fires
of battle he died a noble death." A stomach-churning splatter
noise echoed around the area as Lockswell's corpse slapped
against the rocks. "...ish."
John Boss turned around to face Aerin, who was still staring.
"You. You're the elf from that inn yesterday. Tell me, what is
your name?"
"Aerin. Aerin Liette. The knight dragged me out here to help
find you. He said you were some kind of immortal demon or demi-god,
that your name pops up in records from centuries ago. 'The
Djonbus' he called you. Your name's John Boss because that's the
closest equivalent our language has. Or something."
John Boss was silent for a moment. "Wow. That's ridiculous."
"...but..."
"Just because I survived a 90 mile drop and managed to blow up a
palace with alcohol, that doesn't make me a demi-god. It's not
even that impressive. Gold is not a reliable building material."
"So how do you explain the centuries of records with your name?"
"My NAME has been popping up in records for centuries. As for
me, allow me to introduce myself properly: I am John Boss the
34th, son of John Boss the 33rd, grandson of John Boss the 32nd.
Throughout history my family has travelled the shifting face of
this continent, and wherever there was adventure to be had,
buckles to be swashed, we've been there; fighting the forces of
evil, sometimes fighting the forces of good, fighting just about
anyone who's game for a laugh. But enough about me. Aerin, are
you a writer?"
"Yes, I am. How did you know? Or is mindreading just another one
of your talents between hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting, and
mixing explosive drinks?"
"The word you're looking for is 'pyroalcohology'. As for my
mind-reading abilities, you were in your nightgown at 2pm and
really you look too stringy and anaemic to be much good for
anything else."
Insulted, Aerin took in a deep breath to fuel a blindingly
eloquent and intelligent rant before emptying his lungs in a
sigh, realising that he sort of had a point. "Well, I suppose
I'll be off now. Bye, then."
Boss continued, "Regardless, I'm sure I'll find some use for
you."
Aerin stopped, and slowly turned around. "What?"
"You wouldn't pass on the opportunity to travel with one such as
I, would you?"
Aerin took a step back. "Now wait a minute, I've already been
dragged out walking for an entire day against my own free will,
and now a different psychopath wants to take the reins?! Why
would I go with you?"
John replied as if the answer was obvious: "Because it would
make a fucking good book." This reply, whilst at first seeming
like yet another boastful insult, made Aerin's brain do a
double-take. "Also, it's not as if you have a home to go to. If
you had, you would be there right now and not living in yet
another cheap Inn."
"How did you know I was in an Inn?"
"Where else would you have met a bounty hunter? Sorry, 'knight
of the realm'. An Inn is an ideal place to hear gossip and
rumours of your latest targets. I assume the reason he chose you
to aid him is because you were telling others about me?"
"...Should I have told others about you?"
"Oh, of course you should have. I'm incredible! So incredible in
fact, I'm pretty sure you could make a decent living on selling
the thrilling, authorised, first-hand accounts of my adventures.
So! What do you think? You're just about homeless and even
having this ordinary conversation with me has probably improved
your quality of life in some way."
"So you want me to be your...biographer?"
"Essentially, yes."
After a moment of thought, Aerin's mind was set. "Fine. I'll tag
along for a while. What's the worst that could happen?"
"You could fall, you could be crushed, you could be stabbed,
shot, burned, melted, incinerated, exterminated, ripped to
pieces, frozen, imprisoned, devoured by wolves, falcons, lions,
tigers, bears, cannibals, an irate god, not to mention all the
other things from beyond the possibilities of mere imagination
that you may also encounter. Or get eaten alive by, buried,
tortured, or exploded by.
After realising that John was absolutely not joking, a pale
shade of green flooded the elf's already rather green cheeks.
"That was a rhetorical question."
"That was a rhetorical answer."
And so, as the day turned to night, John Boss and Aerin Liette
walked away from the camp, blissfully unaware that they had just
forged an unbreakable, financially-motivated bond that would
shape the future of the seven kingdoms forever.
"So, just for the introduction of the book, maybe we could
explain to the readers a bit about how that solid gold palace
came to be falling out of the sky?"
John chuckled and put his arm around Aerin's shoulder. "Well,
let's just say I'm never trusting a seven-nippled juggler
again."
And with that, our hero and his biographer walked off into the
sunset as they laughed and laughed and laughed. Aerin was merely
humouring the hulking killing machine with the arm around him,
but he thought that maybe our story would work better without
that minor detail.
NEXT TIME
Aerin jammed his eyes shut at the blinding light, and as he
slowly adjusted with each blink, he was able to make out the
hulking figure of John Boss standing above him. His vision
became normal after a few seconds, and now he was able to see
the small wooden box he had been inside this whole time, and the
six-foot hole in the dirt above. Aerin looked slightly stunned
at John Boss who was not only a real person but was completely
calm and collected about this whole situation. Aerin stuttered.
"Th...that wasn't a dream?"
"That wasn't a dream."
"I'm in a coffin."
Boss tossed the shovel out onto the ground above. "You're in a
coffin."
Aerin sat up in shock. "JOHN, I FUCKING DIED!"
"Well...I DID warn you."
JOHN BOSS WILL RETURN
IN
A CAT CALLED BRITAIN (A CAPER IN TIME PART 1)
| Table of Contents |
| Chapter 1 - Palace of Doom |
| Chapter 2 - A Knight to Remember |