522 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
Glory sits, sulking, in the corner of the cart, knees tucked against her chest. Wine bottles in a crate jingle as the cart rocks and bumps but, as Glory has discovered, the bottles are all either empty, broken, or smashed. She sighs at the tragedy.
“I have two plans I’d find acceptable right now,” Glory tells the others. “First, I’d like to drink myself into oblivion. But since that’s not possible, I’d like to search, probably in vain, for a way past the Apocalypse Beast and through the Enduring Portal to save Shutterbug.”
“I’ve already challenged the Beast,” says the tiny horse. “Her toenails are surprisingly sturdy.”
“Your Simian friend is big and strong. He can help us in the fight.”
“And me,” adds Formerly Melvin.
The Elf gives the ghost a look that calculates all his strengths and weaknesses. “As I said, the Simian can help us in the fight. Even better, he can rally his people, sail with the Simian navy up into the REALM, and attack the Beast with their cannons. The sailing prowess of the Simians is legendary.”
Val grunts, perhaps out of modesty, or perhaps from the exertion of pulling the cart. “I’m afraid we don’t have much of a navy anymore, Miss Gloriander. Our cannons are mothballed, our warships are disassembled, and our flotilla these days is mostly made up of pleasure barges.”
“Ooh! If we had a pleasure barge, we could invite the Apocalypse Beast on a river cruise,” says Formerly Melvin. “Maybe all she needs is some mood enhancement to become a nicer person.”
“Is he for real?” asks the Pooka. “Are you for real?”
Formerly Melvin examines one of his translucent hands. “Am I for real? Possibly not.”
“The Apocalypse Beast is not a person. People don’t eat other people, and people certainly don’t digest those people in a process that keeps them in continuous torment for a hundred years.”
“I experienced a small bit of that,” Formerly Melvin admits. “My body is probably still suffering. But you can’t blame someone for the cruelty of their digestive system.”
“Focus, fellows,” says Glory, “this cart is getting farther and farther from the Enduring Portal with every passing moment. That’s not helping Shutterbug, and it’s certainly not replacing my supply of wine, so where are we going?”
“We’re traveling back to the magical spring,” says the Pooka. “That’s where the toad said to go.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” says Glory. “I’m being ordered around by my own horse because of an amphibian’s travel guidance? Does this spring at least have some five-star accommodations? Are there recreational facilities? A spa?”
“It’s just a spring,” says the Pooka. “And it’s tangerine flavored.”
“Uck!” Glory shudders.
“The spring is the key to restoring my full powers,” says the Pooka.
“But you drank from it already,” Formerly Melvin notes, “and you don’t look all that powerful to me. No offense.”
“That was the revelation I had,” the Pooka explains. “I don’t get my powers back by drinking from the spring. I get my powers back when she drinks from the spring.” He points a hoof at Gloriander.
The Elf frowns. “This spring had better be at least 30% alcohol by volume.”
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
Revision Notes:
To be added.
