Sir Wilhelm: Part 3

Tuesday, 25 March 2008

Companion... Or Rival?

Light once again floods my vision, creating a splitting headache that quietly brags, "How do you like that?! I suck, don't I? Well, hah, you're in my grasp and I won't let you go! Muahaha!" I, Sir Wilhelm the Rather Confuzzled Knight of the Oddly Shaped Table, feel as if I am suffering from a massive hangover, barely able to move any of my joints. I stumble out of the dark pool of water, completely soaked head to toe, shivering from the chilly air of the valley. The valley, itself, looks haunted, ominous trees, although not talking enchanted trees, are still able to leave an impression on the mind. In the distance, a shabby looking shack stands solitary in the grove of intimidating oaks. I slowly stumble in its general direction, using all of my reserve energy to drag my feet along. Thud, thud, thud goes my weary boot laden feet. "Ahh, it burns, it burns.... Cool me off!" my legs scream with each heavy step. Fatigue hits hard and fast like an unexpected blow to the back of the head. I fall forward and face plant into the dark, gray mud... Subconsciously, I hear the opening of a door and a few words uttered before passing out.
"Hmph. Ever going to wake up?"
My eyes slowly open. The actual room of the shack (if it is the shack) is more spacious than it first appeared from the outside. Also, full of valuable things.... Ooh. Shiny. 'I'm turning Japanese, I'm turning Japanese, I really think so.... Because of all the shiny.' My mind fully snaps out of it and I notice a man, his long black hair draping his shoulders like a cloak and a scruffy-looking goatee. His hard eyes pierce right through me, as if he knows my every thought.
Groggily, I ask, "Who might you be?"
He smirks, unknown whether it is friendly or guarded, he replies, "Nobody to be concerned with, actually. But may I ask the same question of you? I did find you passed out in front of my shack."
"Damn... Now I have to tell you. Well... To put it simply, I am Sir Wilhelm of the Oddly Shaped Table. Long story about why the table is oddly shaped. Too long of a story to tell in one setting."
A dark gleam flashes crosses his eyes. He smirks once again, although it seems full of malice, more so. He coughs and his expression softens. "I see.... Well, I'll make my introduction. I am Sir Eric the Black of Door of the Knights of the Odder Table."
Surprise hits me like a ton of bricks on top of my head, crushing it with its formiddable force and weight. I gape at him, confused. My mind is swimming with multiple thoughts. 'Damn... Why did I have to smoke some Magic Herb? Where the hell is me mum?! Why did he have to find me?! Omg! I left my money in my other pants pocket! Oh noes!' Slowly, I say, "Isn't the Odder Table Order rivals with the Oddly Shaped Table Order?"
"Yes... Trutthfully we are. A counter-group designed to stop the activities and ambitions of your group. Too idiotic in our eyes. I've heard of some of the things you've tried to obtain in the past. A mystical black sheep, with the power to grant wishes with the slightest pat on the head. Who would believe that? Yet... All of you went out venturing for it."
"The sheep said it didn't feel like granting our wishes," I say through clenched teeth. Anger boils red hot like a pot sitting on the stove for too long. I jump up with rejuvenated strength, staring Sir Eric down with contempt written all over my face, plus the mud, still caked on my cheeks. Mmm... Mud pies are the shit. Anyways... I ball my hands into fists and yell, "Don't put down my group! You'll force me to... to... stab you with my finger!"
He laughs heartily, the only sound in the quiet shack. The walls, themselves, cover their ears, to drown out the noise. "We're trying to nap, you dick!" the right wall yells. "Shut up you damn thing!" Eric yells at it. "Fine, fine, but don't get mad when I bitch because I haven't had my beauty sleep!"
He turns to face me, another evil smirk on his face. His stance shows that he is willing to duke it out, no matter the cost. He slackens and sighs. "Truthfully, Sir Wilhelm, I'm not with the Order anymore."
Again, a blow to the face. I gape, once again. (What is with me and open-mouthed gaping?) "What happened?" I happen to ask.
"Hm... Well, several years ago, the Order became corrupt, causing horrendous crimes, such as killing innocent animals, especially the wooly sheep. They thought the sheep were conspiring against them and decided to go through with a genocide. A bloodbath, it was. None remained alive. The incident was also known as the Great Sheep Slaying. After that, I couldn't take the stupidity any longer.... Ever since our first leader succumbed to old age."
"Ah, I understand. Sad to hear.... Sheep are too cuddly... Well, not really. They suck at cuddling. They baa! too much and are just too damn hairy. Anyways.. I'm off on a solo mission, which was supposed to be a single man raid on the Mansfield High stronghold, to vanquish monotony, drama, and boredom, among others.. But, I found myself in a green forest after slaying Distrust, the damn brute."
"Unfortunately," he says with no expression, "You're far from where you started. This is the Forest of Depression, far to the north of Mansfield. The trip back would be gruesome, filled along the way with many creatures and dangerous footfalls. Only a fool would venture back."
"People have told me I'm idiotic, so I guess I fit the "fool" part. Maybe I have a screw loose... But I don't have a screwdriver to tighten it... Hah hah."
"Corny joke, Sir Wilhelm," Sir Eric smirks. "Maybe your whole head is screwed up. Who knows. I just know I've been in this depressing shack for ages. The same dreary scenery is a downer."
"Heh, I know what you mean," I say. "I need to venture somewhere at least... I need to get back to Mansfield. Effin' midgets got me to smoke some Magic Herb... That's how I ended up here."
"Magic Herb, eh? That stuff is...different. Never tried it myself. Never wanted to. Midgets are deceitful little creatures anyways. Paranoid as hell, too. Too much smoke in their feeble heads, I guess."
We converse for many hours, until the already dark forest is glazed with an even blacker coat.... Dusk. Almost total blackness covers the room with its eerie stare. One part of a song verse is stuck in my head... Frustrating me to the point of bashing my head against the wall a couple of hundred times. Finally, our conversation ends. Silence.... Empty, devoid of everything... Only silence. Suddenly, a boom resounds against the shack door. Another one follows, shaking the door with its awesome power.
"Prepare yourself, Wilhelm," Sir Eric the Black of Door mutters under his breath.
Damn gods... Quit with your saddistic little game... I hate you. I hope you fall and break your hip, you fucking geezers. (To be continued...)