FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

On men and minotaurs

• The Tale of a Planewalking Barrister-

• Chapter One -

"Captured by minotaurs. Weak, indecisive minotaurs... whatever shall happen?"

Humphrey Wobblesborough was infuriated. His pulse was nearly as high as his hourly legal fee, and the cataclysmic amounts of cholesterol rumbled within him, making him sweat profusely at the judge's verdict. His client was obviously guilty, but that shouldn't have to mean he can't walk the streets freely, despite the fact that he ate his wife and two children. After all, what are the odds that he would ever do such a thing twice? Still, the judge was adamant in his decision, and Humphrey had lost to the court ruling.

To this day, Humphrey doesn't know what caused him to take a stroll in the park rather than ambulate his lard-infested ass into a cab, but perhaps it was the presence of stragglers and bums on the side of the street. Their stench of poverty nearly caused Humphrey an allergic reaction, and he chose to direct his almost perfectly round 250 kilo body into the park instead. His 19th century clothes, together with his amazingly large hat and walking stick made him the instant center of attention, as people assumed he was on his way to a costume party. But alas, this is the way Humphrey's always dressed, and he insisted that TRADITION and GOOD MANNERS had to reign even in contemporary London. It may be past the year 2000, but it's never too late to return to good, old fashioned values. Not in Humphrey's mind.

He sat his flobby bottom down on a park bench and overlooked the scenery while polishing his overpriced monocle. Lushious trees bathed in sunlight, squirrels raced each other in their passionate play, and loving couples lay in each other arms enjoying summer day picnics amongst the rich grass and beautiful flowers. Disgusting, thought Humphrey. Why, this very place could house large business complexes! Banks, storage facilities... why... maybe even industries! One could strip away the whole bally lot of this hippie-infested primordial garden and build giant money-producing corporations here! The dagger of capitalism driven straight through the heart of Mother Nature! Humphrey felt his erection grow larger by the second, and he quickly found it necessary to compose himself. He had lost in the court room today, after all, and was now poor. He used his cell phone to call up his bank, and to his great disappointment, he was now indeed confined to his meager bank account savings. Thirty million pounds. Not a penny more. How will I survive?

Humphrey twiddled his enormous moustache, lost in thought. He pondered strategies to survive. Meanwhile, people stood up as a giant noise resounded throughout the park. The air started to become electric, and giant, black clouds formed out of thin air amidst the trees.

Now, I know I might have to sell my mansion in Oxford...

• people screamed in ghastly panic, took all their belonging, and ran wildly about.

...although my stock options in orange juice might actually turn out profitable if only there was a way to sabotage the plantations...

• arcs of lightning scorched trees asunder, blue turned into red, red turned into green, and green turned into monkeys.

Maybe I could start a fund raiser and claim all the money for myself...

• slowly hovering towards Humphrey, a giant sphere made out of pure chaos. It had wormholes, black holes and unfathomably blue dental insurances within its wake, and Humphrey did not notice a thing until it was upon his person.

What the..., exclaimed the startled barrister as he was sucked into the flaming orb. He was instantly transported to another dimension.

--

Humphrey crashed through a mirror and landed on cold, stoney floor. Like a turtle on its back, it was extremely hard for him to get up, since he couldn't get his arms past his belly. He wobbled back and forth and managed to build up a certain amount of momentum, until he reached the point where he could at least flop onto his back. He could now see the roof, and it was indeed quite a ways up. Damn spacious! thought Humphrey as he looked about. It appeared to be a bed room, although it was hard to tell since he saw it all upside down. Suddenly an upside down cow's head. It snorted at him. It's alive!

"Who are you?", it asked in greek.

I must be going mad. A talking cow's head?

As Humphrey glanced further, ogling the form, he noticed the gray head was attached to a gray neck, which was attached to a giant gray torso, almost humanlike. With tremendous force, Humphrey got up on his feet through sheer panic. "A minotaur!!!", he screamed and turned to the creature. It was a minotaur all right. Wearing a pink dress. Humphrey couldn't help staring between the legs of the giant monster, and it was quite extremely evident that he was very, very male. But wearing a pink dress. "You're-- a transvestite?", Humphrey asked in greek. He had to be polite after all.

"Shhh!! Not so loud! Don't let the other's find out!", he shushed with a deep, booming, yet strangely effeminate voice. "Where are you from? How come you're dressed the way *you* are, and how come you speak greek?"

Humphrey felt offended, and brushed his jacket with his hand. Dust clouds drifted from the texture. "Hmmpf! Only uncoath *beasts* do not speak greek in modern day Britain! ..... errr.... no offense, of course".

"None taken. I am not a beast, I am a minotaur."

"Quite."

"So, who are you?"

"I am Humphrey Wobblesborough, barrister in service to Her Majesty and The Crown. Who might you be?"

"I am Lord Boared of the Clan Peek-a-boo"

"Peek... a boo?"

The minotaur sighed heavily. "Yes. Sadly that is our noble clan's name. You see, he who nominated and inaugurated our clan was the most powerful mage we have ever seen here, but he had simple pleasures; mostly excruciatingly silly child's games. He wanted to name the clan after his favourite passtime game, and so... here we are. Peek-a-boo. It's unbearably stupid. Amongst the other clans, we are seen as a joke, and we mostly keep away from the politics of this country's various clans."

"I... see", said the startled barrister.

"I couldn't help but notice the fact that you fell in through a magical portal. Are you from... another dimension I wonder?"

Humphrey looked about and noticed the rift was gone, much like his sanity. It was clear, in his mind, that communists had finally taken over Britain and sent all blue-blooded heroes into other worlds. His new mission was clear to him in this very instant; he had to tame these savage minotaurs, open a portal to Britain and reclaim Nova Albion's crown. It would be a glorious new regime under the regal banner of the Wobblesborough family name. But first things first. He turned to the minotaur, who stood still as a lamp post, donning his garments of cheap debauchery. That dress has to go. Only good old fashioned military clothes under my noble name.. but I suppose I have to start by gaining his trust. Humphrey smiled. It looked fake in every conceivable way.

"Indeed I am, my good cow!"

"-bull...", retorted Lord Boared.

"Bull! Indeed! And a fine one at that! Why, your swaying testicles perfectly match your outstanding dress... in a very ... ehh... sublime manner!", Humphrey said, his red cheeks and awkward smile visibly making the minotaur feel less and less comfortable by the second. "Ehh.. say, would you happen to know the way back for someone like me? As much as I like this ... moist... ehh... 'homely' ... place... I need to get back in order to stop the ones who sent me here from taking over my beloved country!"

"Well, I ... I wish I could help you but I am not a very powerful mage. I suppose I could take you to the mage's council, but I dread to go outside my fortifications."

Humphrey looked stunned at that. The minotaur cringed and heaved his clumsy body eerily about, and looked tense aswell as embarrassed. "Why on Earth is that?", Humphrey let out.

"Because of the boars."

"The boars", Humphrey repeated, somehow unable to muster it into a question. It was a simple statement, and yet it was a question.

"Well.. you see.. the reason I am named 'Lord Boared' is because all minotaur mages have a signature attached to them.. sort of a ... peculiarity. It's the magic that streams through us, you see. It leaks from us aswell and causes interesting traits to appear. In my case, my leaking magic causes my very presence to attract boars. They love me. And I am phobic of them. Terrified beyond belief. So.. I rarely travel."

Sympathy grabbed hold of Humphrey. A bitter tear fell from his monocle-clad eye. He was convinced that he could relate to the fear. It was evident what caused the fear. Humphrey reached his right hand across the room and laid it upon the shoulder of the now sobbing minotaur.

"I know how you feel. It is clear to me why you fear the boars. It is nothing to be ashamed of. The way they act, moving together like a large homogenous group, destroying the lands. Undoing the floral cultures one has had their gardeners tending to. It is the same pattern as the communists. They very ones that sent me here. We fight the same enemy, you and I. So far, you have been lucky enough to only battle them as your personal demons, metaphors for the true evil behind the beastly henchmen known as boars. But the enemy you seek, beyond the metaphors, beyond the allegories... even beyond the woodland beasts.... are communists."

"Commu.. communists?", trembled out from wet minotaur lips. His sobbing replaced by a confused glare, as his tears had pooled on thick bovine lips. Those glazed eyes were soaked diamonds of wonder, waiting to be filled with wisdom by Humphrey's ocean of intelligence and reason. Humphrey just knew it. This strangely cute minotaur would be an excellent tool in his crusade against malicious communists.

"Communists", Humphrey nodded.

"What are those?", asked the minotaur while wiping his tears away.

"Vile monsters. Utterly sinful beasts with ashen hearts and distorted minds. Be lucky you know nothing of them, they are the worst kind. Let us speak no more of them, lest I suffer a cardiac arrest!", Humphrey said, exasperated from his agitation.

"Let's go to the dining chambers", said Lord Boared, and off they walked. The barrister frantically wiped his monocle while listening to the bovine cross-dresser. ".. there are several lords around these parts, and we're all mages of course. It should be possible for us to work together and open a portal for you, but I must warn you; there are many internal conflicts in this clan, so the lords rarely work together for the same purpose."

"Who are the lords, then?", Humphrey asked out of politeness rather than genuine interest. He couldn't wait to get through the portal and back to his old, familiar England. If it was still familiar. Maybe the communists had already manage to change it entirely. It was a thought that gave Humphrey the willies.

"Apart from myself, well.. the closest lord to me would be Lord Board.."

"Lord.. Boared? But.. I thought that was your name?"

"No, no.. Board! B-o-a-r-d. His signature is that wooden planks mysteriously repair themselves in his presence. He has the most magnificent fort, made entirely out of wood, that I have ever seen! It is nearly indestructible due to his ability."

"Oh, I see.."

"Then there's Lord Bored.."

"Lord.. what?"

"B-o-r-e-d. He has the magical ability to make people around him, including himself, become extremely bored. Needless to say, he isn't very popular."

Humphrey shook his head. He had never felt this confused before. Could these creatures of magic truly be his salvation?

"Our first stop should probably be at my friend's place.. his name is Lord Green Or Red Tea. I suppose you can guess the nature of his signature..."

"Uhmm.. I would suppose there is no shortage of tea at his place?"

"No.... Well.. provided it's green or red, there isn't."

"Quite."

"But I am not entirely sure how to get there. I have a carriage, but ... every time I set a course and ride off, wild boars jump me, and I don't want to risk causing injuries to my steeds or myself.. or you, of course."

Humphrey paused for a while, to think. He gyrated his mighty form back and forth, until he settled in on a steady rhythm. After a while, he ceased, and instantly gained a mischievous smirk. "Do you have carpenters?", he asked, still smirking.

"Well, actually, we minotaurs own humans. They work for us as slaves. I realize that might come as a shock to you, but we do our best to make them as comfortable as poss... "

"-What?!", Humphrey exclaimed with a perturbed voice. Lord Boared's ears twitched and flattened, laying like horizontal lines against his heavy minotaur head. He sank, and even seemed frightened of Humphrey, as he stuttered his evasive reply.

"I..I. I as..assure you, we treat them ver.. ver.. very well!"

"That's exactly what I find profoundly infuriating!! There is absolutely nothing wrong with keeping slaves! It is nothing short of a sin that Nova Albion has abandoned that noble practice! The fact that you aspire to treat the slaves well, though, is disturbing to say the least! You are the lord of this manor, and you should cease such liberal leftie-tactics at once! They are slaves for a reason, treat them like the filth they are!"

Humphrey's moustache trembled as he tried to compose himself. He brushed off his jacket casually, and it seemed the minotaur was now more perplexed than ever. Still, it was clear in Humphrey's mind that there was a great deal of hope here. The minotaur clearly stuck to very fine cultural traditions and ideals. Sure, he was evidently quite slack and lenient towards those lesser than him, but that could be remedied. Still, one thing at a time.

"So.. any of these slaves know how to construct basic devices?"

"Certainly. I have a workshop where they study such practices!"

"Lead the way, then!"

Lord Boared could only stare at the chaotically unfolding scene before him. He had shown Humphrey to the carpentry where his human slaves had begun working on modifications to his carriage, following the vivid descriptions delivered to them by the fascinatingly obese, newly arrived human in funny clothes. Lord Boared observed the men dragging planks and attaching them to the carriage. They appeared to be building a prolonged extension, protruding from the front of the original cart of the wagon, like a long horizontal pole, with several small forward-facing 'shields' flanking it from both sides, encasing several small confined spaces on the opposing sides of the aforementioned pole. In front of it all was a cage. It was placed like a strange beacon of surrealism, ahead of the rest of the obscure construction. Humphrey seemed bizarrely happy about the whole thing, but to Lord Boared, it was all a mystery still.

With enthusiastic steps, Humphrey approached the minotaur. "The deed is done!"

"What, exactly, is this thing?"

"Oh, don't worry. You will see!", said the smiling Humphrey. Behind him, the human slaves had begun to push the rough construction towards the slowly opening doors. "We're pushing it out into the open, as we speak!"

"What?!"

The carriage was pushed through the doors, out of the workshop, and a bunch of eager young men were busy opening the gates and lowering the bridge across the moat surrounding Lord Boared's estate.

Humphrey watched as they pushed the big thing into the open, and the minotaur at his side watched aswell, with a due sense of dread in his eyes. He looked at the giddy human, using his facial expression to try and subtly convey that he wanted an explanation, but Humphrey just shook his shoulders and began to polish his already well polished monocle while screaming at the men to work harder. After fifteen minutes of hard work, shouting orders and polishing his monocle, Humphrey was exhausted. There was no doubt that he had never been forced to do such hard labor before in his life, but it was all for a good cause. Soon enough, the wooden work of 'art' was safely placed right outside Lord Boared's fort, and the working men cleared the way. Humphrey nodded at the awkwardly re-designed carriage, and together they approached it.

"So, what's your plan?", inquired the minotaur as he poked the cage at the front of the structure, to which Humphrey allowed a slight glee.

"Well, care to humor me by stepping into the cage?"

"...to what end?"

Humphrey opened the cage and tapped on its floor. "Look, it's sturdy. You've nothing to fear. I just want to make sure it can maintain your weight, that's all"

With great hesitation, the big minotaur looked at the metallic cage. He frowned and snorted, but eventually took an insecure step towards the contraption, as Humphrey let the cage swing open. Heaving himself up, Lord Boared managed to cram his body into the cage, and Humphrey instantly closed it, locking it into place.

"What are you doing?!", exclaimed the now-trapped minotaur from within the maw of the cage.

"Don't worry. I have a plan. It's a great one."

There was sheer panic in Lord Boared's eyes, Humphrey could see it clear as day. Evidently he wasn't too happy about being locked up. No wonder, that. It was a shame that it had to be done, but in Humphrey's mind, it was a means to a benign end.

"You don't understand! The boars are on their way as we speak, I attract them!"

"I know! That's the plan!"

If it was possible for a minotaur to become white as snow in the face, this was certainly about as close as it could get. Lord Boared's initial display of panic was now replaced with a near catatonic state of dread. Then he snapped, and shook the bars of the cage in a rabid frenzy, screaming and crying simultaneously. "No!! Please!! Don't let them take me! Show mercy! I will do anything you say, but please - don't leave me to them!!"

Humphrey tried to calm the upset minotaur, but it wasn't easy to get his attention in his excited state of mind. Eventually he slumped down, though, exhausted from his fear. He buried his face in his giant hands and cried, and it made the whole carriage tremble. Humphrey began to pet the strange creature in his cage, soothing him. "There, there...", he said, intensifying the pets. It seemed to work, and finally he had the attention of the shook-up lord.

"I don't intend to let them take you, why would I betray a fellow blue-blood? My plan, you see, is to utilize the heralds of destruction to our mutual benefit!"

The minotaur blinked. He didn't understand at all.

"-listen.. these minions of communistic fashion, they are aimless and useless, but certifiably insane with lust to destroy. However, you have an ability that makes them crave you, and I think I know why."

Humphrey leaned forward, seemingly with an intention to share a secret with Lord Boared, who did not understand the necessity for secrecy, since noone was around to overhear them anyway. The brightly shining eyes of the corpulent human signified his great level of pride over the insight he was about to share.

"Envy!", Humphrey whispered into Lord Boared's ear, and then he shone up like the sun, with a broad smile and arching eyebrows. The minotaur was still puzzled. "You see, deep down, every communist wants to change! They know they are foul creeps, undeserving of breathing even the foulest fumes from Satan's sphincter; and they have a craving deep down, to undo what they are, and join the majestic pride of capitalist flagships in their noble war against communistic debauchery! In you; they see their liberator! You are the alluring scent which drives them to devoid from the path of their slow and inevitable plunge into the depths of insanity, that they descend further into for each and every passing day that they worship their twin pagan gods of "equality" and so-called "brotherhood"! And now, we can make physical use of that craving! I intend to reel them all in and use them as tools of transportation! They will be the engine, and you will be the steering device!"

"But how..", began the startled minotaur, but he found himself interrupted by the sound of trampling boars. Well over a dozen of them charged out from a clearing in the woods some odd kilometer or so away, and they approached quickly.

"In your cage, there is a lever! With it, you can control the direction of the carriage! Don't worry, I will take care of the rest!", shouted Humphrey and got up on the driver's seat at the front of the carriage, prior to the massive wooden bridge leading to the cage with the stunned minotaur.

"But wait! I am wearing a dress! If anyone outside my home sees me like this....", Lord Boared began.

"Too late for that now!", Humphrey shouted and pointed at the raging storm of hooves and fur that was about to descend upon them.

The mass of horny boars showered over the cage like hyena's to a carrion, and it was impossible for Humphrey to decide whether the sound of hooves against steel, the squealing of boars, or the girlish shriek of the terrified minotaur was a winner in the "unbearably loud" department, but all of these sonic phenomena contested with gusto.

With an enthusiastic howl, Humphrey began to swing a wide plethora of lassos around the necks of the boars. Normally such a demanding limbic and perceptive skill would try to separate itself from the fat tyrant like a choirboy from a catholic priest, but very much like the unfortunate outcome that sometimes presents itself in such situations, the repellant was eventually attracted, and Humphrey's sheer willpower made him the ultimate cowboy for the time being. It was a magical moment, and the barrister was now ecstatic. Feeble concepts such as Reality and Probability Of Success were a thing of the past, at least at this very instant.

When all boars had been restrained by the thick ropes, Humphrey tied them all to the cart he stood on, and the carriage was carried forward by the power and direction of the desperate beasts. Humphrey had brought a whip along, but found he didn't need to use it, as the boars were motivated enough as it was, doing their best to try and reach the just-out-of-reach cage in which the minotaur manically clasped the steering rod, sending the unbalanced carriage cavorting forward headlong through difficult terrain. It was far from a comfortable trip, but they were on their way, and in furious speed. Humphrey looked into the back of the cart and smiled when he saw the heavy anchor laying there, knowing it would later serve as a rudimentary break system.

---

Lord Green Or Red Tea woke up in his mansion. He was lying on the floor, as usual. The lofty bed stood magnificently by his side, seemingly priding itself on account of its defeated master who had fallen from its silky comfort. The minotaur lord sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling. It had become an involuntary custom now. Nearly every night he fell.

He could hear a door open in the distance, but his huge belly prevented him from observing whom it might be that entered. He still tried, and nearly strained his thick, bovine neck in an attempt to glance past his own, vast figure. Lord Green Or Red Tea was probably the fattest bull in the whole world, and he wasn't getting any younger either. He dragged the scents from the air and immediately knew it was his most loyal servant who had entered. That thin, hairy and bearded human could quite possibly be the only person that ever treated the lord with anything close to compassion.

"Fallen again, my master?", asked the human with a troubled voice as he approached.

"Yes..", Lord Green Or Red Tea replied, his voice drained from all energy and appetite for life.

"Was it an epileptic attack again, master?", the servant asked instinctually while trying in vain to lift the minotaur from the ground. The minotaur didn't move an inch.

"Yes.... ", he sighed.

"Master, you will have to help me, I can't lift you on my own."

"As if I didn't know that, Slave. But don't bother tending to me, just let me lie here to rot..."

"No master, don't say such things! You know I care about you."

"And you're the only one who does..."

"That's not true, I am sure that deep down, the others care a lot about you, master", Slave said with fatigue in his voice. He had begun to push the minotaur's side with all his might, and yet nothing happened. His arms were stretched out to the maximum, and his feet nearly dug holes into the ground as he used his whole body as a primitive forklift, but to no avail.

"They all hate me... everyone hates me, and they should... I hate myself too...", whimpered the immovable bovine lord. It was almost as if he didn't even notice the human in his futile attempts to get him off ground.

"Why would they hate you, master?", Slave persisted while placing his back against the minotaur's side, opting to try and lift with his legs as his hands were buried under the excessive belly fat. There was no point. Nothing happened.

"I am ugly. I am fat."

"You're beautiful", gasped the human before giving up and sliding down on the ground beside his lord.

"Not even a dung beetle would find me beautiful...", said the minotaur dispassionately while beginning to make an endeavor of his own to bring his massive form to a vertical position. The exertion, as always, seemed hopelessly at odds against the laws of physics, but eventually the minotaur managed to get on his knees. From that position, it was possible for him to get up on his hooves through the assistance of the now-standing human slave. After this ordeal, both minotaur and human were drenched in sweat and gasped for air.

It was far from a pleasant life, and the lord knew it. He felt ashamed for dragging his human slaves into the mess that was his pitiful existence. Even though most of his slaves were ungrateful bastards who did nothing useful, it was undeniably due to the indecisiveness and laziness of the lord himself, and he knew that also. The place was practically run by the slaves, who did nothing but steal his food and fornicate with each other, leading lives of decadence in his very halls. All except one slave; Slave. The name was different from most other human-type names, but that was of no consequence; he was the pillar of safety in this prison cell of dreadful living conditions called life. Lord Green Or Red Tea had horribly poor self esteem, even though he was supposed to be the master of the house. He had inherited the place, and his parents had been nearly equally worthless mages as he himself was. At least they had mastered a few more spells than simply making rather tasteless tea. But after their death; their son, who had never enjoyed respect from any of his peers, or even those beneath him, had been bestowed a greater rank than he could ever shoulder. Heck, he couldn't even sleep in his own bed without falling off, and now he was exhausted simply from getting up from the floor.

"Master, would you like some breakfast? Or maybe you want me to clean you?"

"Don't pamper me like that! I am not worth the effort! I am scum, I am slime... I am filth, and you deserve a better lord.. I can never be a lord you can call yourself proud of belonging to... I am the dirt under a grave digger's fingernails.. "

"No, master. No you're not. I am very proud to be your slave. You're a beautiful minotaur."

"I am filth."

"No, I don't think you are. I think you..- "

"- do I smell mustard on you?"

"... yes."

"Is it slave Dave's?"

".... yes."

"Well, you can wipe it off, then. I will go to the balcony and just... stare. Into nothing. Nothingness is all I can relate to.. ", the minotaur said with an empty sigh.

Slave wandered off into another room, and the heavy minotaur walked out on his balcony and slumped down on his extremely sturdy chair. At least the weather was fine. No clouds. Sunny.

Suddenly Lord Green Or Red Tea could hear a familiar, yet annoying sound from below. He looked down from the lofty terrace of his tower and saw the accursed slave Dave. He was riding on his strange invention. "Skateboard", he called it. It was basically a plank with wheels. He was rolling around near the ramparts in the inner yard, performing peculiar tricks with his odd creation. The sounds irritated the lord's sensitive ears, but what could be done?

It was an unfortunate thing, the whole slave Dave ordeal. The slave had appeared out of nowhere, through a portal, just like Slave had. It had soon dawned upon the lord that slave Dave had magical affinity though, and through him, the minotaur lord was able to channel, even magnify, his own spells. If only slave Dave would be more willing to help out, he could potentially be a great tool for the lord to learn even more magic. As it were, he was only truly capable of summoning his damned green or red tea. It was frustrating to see the careless human, wearing his odd baggy pants, shirt and cap, as he was gliding around on his wooden transportation device, shunning the lord, and indeed everyone around him. Even more frustrating was the magical signature of the human slave; anyone within a few meters instantly got really strong mustard summoned into the cavity of the rectum. The only one who seemed immune was slave Dave himself.

Lord Green Or Red Tea could observe the human "skating" around the edges of the rampart now, and for every guard he passed by, there was a characteristically displeased moan as mustard was conjured inside their respective ass. The lord shivered empathically at the sight, content in knowing he wasn't close enough to suffer the same fate as those poor guards, for the time being.

Suddenly, out in the distance, he saw something extraordinary approaching. It seemed like a very mysterious carriage. The lord shouted at the guards to ready themselves, but they were quite busy tending to their discomfort spawned by the ill allocated mustard in their rears, and the irresponsible slave kept cruising round and round the inner yard, sustaining the far-from-desired effect on them all. Lord Green Or Red Tea was angry, but felt helpless. He knew it was pointless to order, or even beg the slave to refrain from his activity.

Suddenly he got an idea, and like a vast majority of his ideas, this one was also based on the instant magical materialization of various flavors of tea. It was, after all, more or less the only damned thing he could do at any given situation, so he often made good use of it.

He looked over the edge of his balcony, the ledge creaking unpleasantly from the weight of the minotaur. As he saw the detestable slave on his wooden plaything, coming around the bend, Lord Green Or Red Tea used his magic to summon an overwhelming amount of tea. It was a strange mix of both red and green tea, but he wasn't overly concerned with the type of tea he happened to summon, other than it being wet and reacting properly to the gravitational pull of the planet. As could be expected, the tea was wet, and it did indeed fall towards the ground beneath; showering the flattened stone surface of the entrance to the tower, and showering the delinquent marauder on the mobile platform, making him flail his arms uncontrollably and resound like a siren in war.

Slave Dave's course became erratic as he spastically shifted his unbalanced weight on the disastrously rattled skateboard, and he soon crashed violently into a collection of barrels. It even seemed as if the skateboard suffered a crack along it's back from the impact. The whole incident made the human slave quite upset, and he cursedly returned into the fort, making it possible for the guards to recuperate and hopefully be able to return to their duties in the short while it would take for the odd carriage in the horizon to arrive.

As the dust clouds became larger, the guards blew the horn and prepared for the arrival of the strangely familiar carriage, carrying a banner of House Boared. Lord Green Or Red Tea made his way slowly to the inner yard to welcome the guest. He reached his destination just in time to prepare for the visit. The bridge was lowered and guards began to place themselves in formation, although clumsily. There was still a great deal of mustard in the confines of their lower back parts after all, and the armor was much too thick to be easily removed to rectify the annoying problem. Each and every guard stood in a less than satisfactory martial stance, spears sprawling randomly about as they tried in vain to look dignified and proud. It was like parrying the waters from a breached dam with an umbrella: simply pointless. Nonetheless they tried.

The rushing speed of the carriage was joined by a near ethereal scream, and it soon dawned upon the recently arrived Lord Green Or Red Tea that the horrified sound must have come from Lord Boared himself. Slave stood at his lord's side, got up on his toes, and leaned in to whisper to him.

"Master, I happened to see the carriage as we were heading down here, and it looks as though it is pulled by boars."

"Boars?!", replied the perplexed minotaur.

The gate of the fort grew in scale and bulk every second they came closer, and the largely concealed sound of a blowing horn had long since faded away. Humphrey could only hope that the bridge would be lowered quick enough, lest they'd be forced to stop the carriage outside the fort itself, prior to the looming dangers of the moat. Such an action would however be far from Humphrey's standard ideals of TRADITION and GOOD MANNERS, and it had to be avoided at all costs. The truth was of course that Humphrey would normally rather sink into the moat rather than be forced to make a less than perfect entrance; but the self-preservation part of his brain had had time to negotiate with his rock hard principles for quite some time before this crucial point, and the boar-carried wagon was still not going to represent him or his bovine ally in a fitting, positive light anyway - so these desperate times called for desperate measures.

Finally the bridge fell down, and the inside of the fort could be seen. It was as tantalizing to Humphrey as a homemade pie, and his smile transformed into a boisterous laughter. He stepped into the cart and prepared the anchor for its noble duty, only slightly deterred by the incessant noise from the caged minotaur. It did, however, make it harder for Humphrey to concentrate, and perhaps that's why the anchor wasn't released in time. Not that the anchor was ever a fantastic idea to begin with, but at least it would have yielded a slightly greater chance of finding root in something remotely akin to soil, had it been released earlier. As it were, the carriage had already entered the stony yard of House Green Or Red Tea when the anchor was thrown, and in there, it could find nothing to attach itself to. Instead, the anchor became an instrument of loud, high pitched cacophonies of metal-on-stone scrapings, making every soul within at least one kilometer clutch their ears in panic. As the carriage catapulted itself in jerky spasms across the sea of panic-struck guardsmen who were, one by one, sent into the air from the overpowering force of the hellish construction, and the armada of scattering boars that preceded it; the anchor began to send sparks flying from its aimless attempts of winning an attachment battle with the ground, and those sparks in turn made the fabric on various potato sacks all over the premises catch fire.

Eventually, out of sheer blind luck, the anchor finally buried itself under the crevice of a displaced rock, and the carriage came to a sudden halt. In many ways, this was a good thing. In some other ways, it wasn't. Lord Boared for example, would have loved some form of advance knowledge regarding this fiendishly rapid deceleration, as his face soon became painfully aware of just how hard the cage truly was. And as his body connected sharply to the cage, it's fairly improvised and highly creaky door blasted open, and the minotaur, with his pink dress, was violently tumbled out and crash-landed right in front of the stunned Lord Green Or Red Tea.

Meanwhile - a black, roundish phenomenon came a' rollin' with unhealthy speed towards the scared-shitless crowd of guards by their lord's side. The heavy connection made the guards fall like bowling pins to the overwhelming, cataclysmic power of the unconsciously delivered pounce of the black ball. As the round object had come to a halt, it became evident that the unholy thing had indeed been Humphrey all along. After the sudden stop, he had been thrown out of the cart, and his 'aerodynamic' roundness had been the instigating process in the temporary cannonball replication that had ensued. He was a bit dizzy as he stood up, but other than that; there wasn't a scratch on him. The blushing gentleman was now on his feet and dusted himself off, trying his best to look stoic, unaffected, and above all guilt-free of the devastating trauma that had recently been inflicted onto a large number of individuals over a very wide area.

"That went rather well, given the circumstances", said a surprisingly triumphant-looking Humphrey, while people in the background tried to help each other to the best of their ability, and human servants in turn did their best to quench the fires that had started to break out in various places. Humphrey was met with stiff faces from the few who were still standing. Amongst them, the gigantic Lord Green Or Red Tea, who looked the most displeased of them all. Humphrey harkled and looked about. Some guards and servants tried to help the moaning Lord Boared get on his hooves, and squealing boars frantically tried to reach the unreachable lord, unable to move an inch. "At least the boars can't do more harm, eh?", Humphrey announced enthusiastically. He was met with no reactions of any kind, save the occasional antagonistic glance.

After a few minutes of polishing his monocle, Humphrey noticed that people started getting their bits and pieces together again, but in his mind they worked dreadfully slow. The sounds of pained voices had at least subdued themselves to a palatable level, and the boars had finally settled down. Lord Boared's irregular breathing was still a bit worrying, but probably nothing to be overly concerned with. Humphrey approached his cross-dressing bovine friend, and gently patted his back. "There, there..", he said with a calming voice.

"I ... didn't expect your arrival, Lord Boared", said Lord Green Or Red Tea. "And I certainly didn't expect.. all this. Why were you caged? And ... why the boars? And, err... why are you wearing a pink dress?"

"It's a long story... look, it's not important. I came here to help get rid of ... I mean, help find a way home for this... this ... human. He came through a magical portal", Lord Boared said and looked at Humphrey.

"Interesting...", Lord Green Or Red Tea said, nodding as he caressed his chin. "Come with me, join me in my chambers at once. This matter needs to be discussed properly".

As they entered the home of the corpulent lord, Humphrey stared in disbelief at one of the servants - the one known as Slave. To Humphrey, it was clear that the man was an unwashed, barbaric hippie. The worst kind of people. Humphrey did his best to look revolted. He wanted the servant to notice how immensely repulsive he found him to be, deliberately fishing for a reaction from the longhaired slave. Slave certainly appeared to notice the over-acting from Humphrey's part, but did nothing in return. He simply tried to avoid looking back. Humphrey was just about to speak to the man when suddenly he noticed him clenching his teeth together and falling onto his knees. In fact, so did the two minotaur lords. All three of them cringed and moaned, and seemed to be in great discomfort. Humphrey simply stood there, not understanding why he was the only one that was. Is this another peculiar custom? he wondered. Meanwhile, another human passed them by, carrying a strange board with wheels. He wore very baggy clothes and walked in a sluggish, careless fashion. Humphrey found the human detestable, but then again; he did so with most living beings.

"You're.. not affected?", whined the doubled-over minotaur Lord Boared, clearly hinting at the fact that Humphrey was still standing.

"Affected by what?"

"The mustard?"

"What mustard?"

The minotaur lords and the alleged hippie slowly got up on their feet, rubbing their rumps in an undignified manner. It made Humphrey curious, and somehow he could vaguely pick up the scent of mustard from the three of them. Lord Boared turned to Humphrey, who simply looked bemused.

"That human, the one who passed us by.. he is a servant of Lord Green Or Red Tea. One with a talent for magic. But his most unfortunate magical signature is that strong mustard is summoned into the rectum of anyone standing close to him."

"Oh I see", Humphrey said. "Then there's no wonder I am unaffected".

"How so?", inquired the startled minotaur.

"Because I have no rectum. I had it surgically removed. Rectums are foul, unclean things, and they have no place inside my person."

"But... ", Lord Boared began, baffled and at a loss for words on how to continue.

"- how does that work? How do you ... relieve yourself?", Lord Green Or Red Tea continued in Boared's place. He had an equally dumbstruck expression on his face.

"A gentleman does not discuss such things", Humphrey replied and looked deeply offended. He then proceeded down the hall, ahead of the others, with his head held high and his walking cane prominently supporting his weight, putting dentures in the carpet as he progressed.

The others soon snapped out of their collective confusion and quickly followed on. Eventually, they all reached a large oval-shaped room, and made themselves comfortable around a very large, oaken table. This room was clearly for representation. There were huge banners hanging from the ceiling, woven intricately and designating its owner with seals and symbols on its rich silky surface. It had to have been at least ten meters to the ceiling, and Humphrey nearly strained his neck in his effort to see it. He mumbled incoherently from the pain.

Lord Green Or Red Tea got up and slowly droned away towards a table with several cups and trays on it, and Slave rose from his seat anxiously as he saw this happen. "Master? Would you like me to .."

"-I can handle this!", came the irritated reply immediately, to which Slave reluctantly sat down again. It was clear from his cramped facial expression that he expected a disaster to unfold in a nearby stretch of time.

Lord Green Or Red Tea filled various cups with tea, through the use of his magic. It all seemed to go smoothly enough, and within a matter of minutes, every cup was filled. The round lord looked very proud as he mounted the cups onto the trays and lifted them nimbly with both hands. There were cups of tea and a large selection of biscuits and cake on the trays, and Lord Green Or Red Tea approached the hungry company at the table with grace and stature. Slave nodded approvingly, and seemed very proud of his lord, who was the picture of elegance and self sacrifice, having opted to serve his guests personally.

Suddenly Lord Green Or Red Tea froze, right when he had reached the table. His eyes widened until they looked like large plates, made out of pure, white fear. The massive body trembled, and sweat began to break out from his bulky mass. Slave barely had the time to rise from his seat and scream in terror before catastrophe was a fact: an epileptic attack.

In an explosion of tea and angst, Lord Green Or Red Tea began to twitch, jerk and vibrate furiously, like a fig leaf in a thunder storm; sending the trays, and especially their content, into the air. A deafeningly loud "Mooooooo!" echoed in a tremolo-like fashion over every corner of the massive room, and a rain of tea drops spattered the randomly dodging guests of the house, in their futile attempts of not getting stained.

When the culinary carnage had ceased to paint the involuntary recipients and surroundings with its flavory delights, Lord Green Or Red Tea, who had lost the fight against his own nervous system, shamefully lay on the ground shaking and drooling like an electrocuted hippo, and sported a vivid blush on his motion blurred face.

Slave immediately rushed to his master's aid, and fell down on his knees by his side. He comforted his rotund master while the attacks kept the body pounding against the cold floor.

Lord Boared was visibly disheartened, even a bit irritated, over the fact that his dress was now lacerated by tea stains. However, due to his willingness to appear courteous, he did his best to act as if it didn't matter, and that his primary concern was the humiliated host, who was still incapacitated from his repetitive shaking. "Are you all right, my lord?", asked Lord Boared.

"BlLRLlrlbrbblrllrl!", was the unbecoming reply.

Humphrey was at first nowhere to be seen, but he soon appeared behind a statue farther down in the room.

"How ... how did you manage to get there in such a short span of time?!", asked Lord Boared.

Humphrey looked agitated, and gave off a powerful "Hmmpf!" before taking the time to walk back to his seat and answer the question. "Do you have any idea what this attire cost me?! I was not about to let it get stained!"

"But .. I mean.. how could you physically move that fast?"

"I can be fast when I need to. It's all a matter of context and priority."

The sound of floppy minotaur skin slapping against stone muffled down to a bare minimum, and heavy panting began to attenuate instead. Lord Green Or Red Tea had evidently regained a relative amount of self control. "I.. I am... I am so, so sorry.. please forg- "

"-really, it's all right. Let's not speak of it. Noone outside this room will ever find out. Right?", said Lord Boared with a bitter voice. Noone answered, everybody just looked uncomfortable, especially Humphrey.

"Right?!", repeated the minotaur, who up until recently had worn a stainless pink dress. Humphrey finally let out a somber "Right", and Slave echoed the same reply.

"Right... ", Lord Green Or Red Tea slurred with exhausted breathing. ".. the reason I ... wanted to bring you all here... was... so that we might talk discretely .. about the portals."

"The portals?", Lord Boared inquired.

"Yes.. you mentioned that your human came through one. Well, I have two humans who also arrived through a portal. Slave and Dave."

"How come you've never mentioned that before? You've had them for years!"

"Well, I didn't think it was important.. not until now. It seems a lot of portals have opened lately. But that's not the worst part."

"What is the worst part then?", Humphrey interjected.

Lord Green Or Red Tea grunted as he forced himself off ground. He got a bit of a help from Slave and Lord Boared, and he was soon disparately distributing his colossal weight between his unstable hooves.

"The worst part..", he slobbered in between erratic gasps for air, "..is that they are forming a union against minotaurs."

"What?!", Lord Boared exclaimed. Even Humphrey seemed to grow ever more pale from the statement, but noone noticed.

"Well, apparently these new humans, who are used to living different lives in their respective parallel universes, are typically prone to live autonomously. They demand rights within our society until they can find a portal back home. This behavior has in turn lead to our original, home-bred slaves to raise their voices and rebel against their former masters"

"It has begun..", Humphrey whispered. The whole room fell silent as the others stared at him. He was pale as death itself. In his black eyes, pure horror was reflected. He slowly opened his lips, and the others held their breath in anticipation of what he was about to say.

"The communists are beginning to take over this world too..."

**

-Chapter Two-**

_ "The pamphlets"_

Disgruntled sighs filled the cavity within the cave, the secluded portion that now served as a dressing room for the biggest porn star in world. Literally. As a golden dragon, Lord Heat wasn't used to an overly encumbering amount of attention directed towards him from humans. Normally, they had evaded him, despite his unfortunate magical signature that yielded his name; anyone who came close to him was instantly aroused and enamored. It was quite tiring, and it had made him become a little bit of a social recluse, normally confided to his damp and dark cave. It was a situation he had found pleasant. But that was in his past.

Lately he had observed many portals open up, and strange people had poured out. It hadn't particularly bothered him until a large group of humans had spawned right outside his cave, with lots of peculiar equipment in tow. That was several months ago, and since then they had all been living in his cave, and redecorated everything. Lord Heat was too shy and timid to object to their strange requests, and he had instead settled in on being their more-than-less unwilling host, amongst other things. Those "other things" were his real concern: they had been working arduously to prepare Lord Heat to become an "actor", and his home to become what they had called a "movie set". Apparently the equipment they had carried with them were items capable of capturing light and audio and present it on various surfaces called "screens". This was apparently how they made a living in the world they came from. They had explained that they lived in a country called "Germany", and that they produced and sold various merchandise called "porn films". Once it had dawned on Lord Heat just exactly what that meant, it was already too late; their preparatory work had already begun. Now they spent their days engineering the dragon's cave to become the future shooting grounds for their latest porn film that would apparently be called "Enter the dragon". Lord Heat was terrified since he could only imagine what that production would have him do in the name of what the german director had referred to as art.

Looking into the huge mirror, Lord Heat felt disillusioned. His big eyes wandered all over the surface that reflected his body, now clad in a strange costume. The scales had some strange glitter sprayed all over them, and it made him sparkle unnaturally. He felt immensily silly. They had worked quite hard on the costume, too. According to them, he was dressed as a "sailor", whatever that meant. The amazing amount of equipment that they had brought had been delivered from the portal, which was apparently still active, meaning one could potentially travel back and forth from their world. Many were the times when Lord Heat had tried to convince these film people to return to their world, but they were adamant about their decision to keep returning here in order to film. Money was their driving force. Apparently money was the sole purpose why one might want to live, and a representative of a political group called "Tradition and Good Manners" often came to Lord Heat to talk him into joining their "inner circle".

There used to be a pamphlet on the desk by the mirror. But now there were two. Earlier today, he had been approached by a shadowy figure he did not recognize, who claimed to be a "communist", representing another political group called "The Brother- and Sisterhood of Mutually Normalized Value and Purpose". He had claimed that money was not at all a reason to live, but rather; the root to evil itself. He had spoken at great lengths about all sorts of things political, but after a while he had to flee in order to not be detected by the film crew. All that remained in the dragon's dressing room were two pamphlets - and a confused but rather sparkly dragon in a sailor suit. This was not how he had envisioned his life. Not at all.

Suddenly there was a knock on his extremely huge door. "Mizter Heet? Ve arr expekting yuu at ze zet!", said the director; Eggelborn Skuttla. Lord Heat let out a heavy sigh before biting down on the handle of the door, then pushing it open with his snout. After all, he couldn't use his paws since he would then run the risk of having some of the make-up and glitter smeared off, and that would mean the crew would have to reapply it once more, an ordeal he did not wish to suffer yet again. Once the door had swung fully open, Eggelborn stood beaming with delight on the other side of the threshold, his arms wide apart in an overacted attempt to convey willingness to share a warm hug. "Aaaawwww... ze littul dwagon lukz zad, yezzz? Vell, yuu kan alvayz truzt mii tu bii hier komforting yuu...", he said with an unconvincing emulation of a warm tone in his voice. Sadly, Lord Heat fell for it every time, mostly because he wanted it to be true. He was starving from a lack of affection directed towards him, by anyone, and he had been for very many years. Decades, in fact. This was not a new situation at all. The director quite often advertised sympathy as a metaphorical carrot for the dragon to chase. Lord Heat knew all too well it was all just the visual symptoms of an elaborate hoax. Still, he repeated another hopeless attempt at connecting with another, seemingly benevolent and sentient being, by closing his eyes and purring, as his head hovered closer to the invitation offered by the human, desperately hoping it would end in a hug. As always, though, it ended with the director putting the palm of his boney hand firmly against the approaching nose, halting the motion of the love-seeking dragon, preventing him in his feeble attempt at bonding. "Oh, hehehe... vaaait a moment zere, my deeer aktor dwagon.. hehe.. by 'komforting' aj simplee meant that yuu vill have lots and lots of opportjunities tu akt in ze porn films... zere wont juzt bii zis one...". Turning his heel quickly, the director vanished in an instant and the dragon sighed yet again. He felt that he might aswell follow and inspect the set. The hallway before him was empty like a gaping hole, as was his heart. With uninspired steps, he slowly made his way towards what would apparently be his new career.

The sunrays from outside the cave had flooded the main entrance, which is also where the set had been built. Scenographically, it appeared to be designed to look like a harbour with a giant ship ready to dock. Protruding from the front of the ship was a giant, golden rod. The end of the rod was shaped like a closed fist, and for some reason it made Lord Heat feel most uncomfortable. He stood there trembling for a while, in quiet contemplation, inspecting the gleaming extention with his sailor suit, which was now sparkling even more from the sunlight outside. The director triumphantly showed up beside the dragon and beamed a smile at the rod. "Ahh.. byootiful, iz it not? Vii have planz for yu tu be penetrayted bai thiz here rod later on... it vill not hurt... zat much... trust mi... ", he said with a stale, indifferent voice. Lord Heat dropped his jaw and attempted to convey an objection to the idea, but he couldn't find air to breathe with, nor could he persuade himself to desist maintaining his continued stare at the instrument that would apparently have deep and intimate contact with his person later on.

"No.. no please.. no", the dragon finally whimpered. But by then, noone was around to hear him. Nearly half an hour had passed, and the director was elsewhere. The crew working on the set had begun initial testing of the rod, which was evidently far more complex than it had appeared to be at a first glance. It would apparently have a repeated forceful, pumping motion as it entered the sensitive rectal cavity of the most unwilling dragon. Lord Heat realized he had to get out of here, he had to flee before this monstrosity would cause his death in a most humiliating way. But how could he flee, and where to? Perhaps the answer could be found by asking the distributors of the pamphlets? Surely they knew more about human ways, and perhaps they were willing to liberate him? But the very instant that the thought materialized, it perished under the quakes of disbelief. Why would anyone help him? It was all pointless. He had to rely on himself and his own devices, which was unfortunately not the best possible conditions for him to achieve success. It never had been. Self esteem just wasn't his thing. Perhaps it was best, after all, to submit, and consequently die, so that at least he would be through with this dreadful existence.

"Look at the bunny! What's the bunny saying?"

Lord Heat wasn't sure if the voice he heard was a dream or if it was real. His eyes were closed in an attempt to sleep, but he was crying so intensily that he couldn't find peace even in the subconscious state of being, as he was constantlty woken up by his convulsions and sobbing sounds. Since he wasn't sure if this voice was part of a dream or not, he opened his eyelids slowly. He hadn't been dreaming. Not at all.

Before Lord Heat's rather large eyes stood a toothless old crone wearing a disparate collection of bricolaged rabbit fur patches, very crudely and highly clumsily sown together with rough threads. Upon her thinly haired, and massively wrinkled head, was a "hat" made out of rabbit heads. It was massively distasteful, and her stench wasn't exactly subtle either. She was smiling insanely, and her crooked back and twitching body made her appear almost like a hunchback who had been ingesting far too much sugar. While her hysterical cackling ensued, she occupied her shriveled hand by flimsically thrusting its content; a dead bunny, onto Lord Heat's face, while repeating her mantra; "What's the bunny saying? What's he saaaying?". The dead bunny, as it turned out upon closer inspection, was actually a rather crudly sown together replication of a singular bunny, consisting of a multitude of bunny parts. And now it was in Lord Heat's face; the stinking, stitched-together bunny corpse, made out of various bunnies. He blinked a few times in rapid succession, hoping that such an action would bat the dream away. For surely, this had to have been a dream, after all? Alas, to his dismay he found out that it wasn't. She remained.

"Ehmm.. that... bunny... is not saying anything at all?", replied the dragon after a few moments of silence. The crone froze in her motions, and stared in disbelief at Lord Heat. Then her eyes erratically flew about, looking all over the place, her ears perked and her mouth widely opened. She was clearly concentrating on the surrounding area, and its alleged lack of bunny talk. After a minute or two, she suddenly jumped into the air with a startled expression. When she landed, she shook her bunny violently.

"You're right, damn it! He's decided to shut up now, the little bastard! Talk, bunny - TALK!", she screamed, phlegm landing all over her nearby vicinity.

"Maybe I should leave you two alone?", Lord Heat said anxiously while slowly rising from the ground in an attempt to make a quiet escape. She was soon upon him though, preventing him from doing so by grabbing him and bellowing incoherently for a while.

"I think it's in your best interest to listen to what he has to say. You see, I am a sorceress, and I invoke my magic through him. He told me that you need help."

"I am not entirely sure that... -"

"-.. but I am!", interrupted the crone. "My name is Squallopina Illpenny, and this here is Frolic!".

As she raised the disgusting bunny composite above her head, it suddenly opened its putrid mouth. "Hello", it said with a dark and rather moody voice. Lord Heat nearly had a heart attack from sheer shock. The bunny, Frolic, rolled his eyes from the reaction, as if he was used to this sort of behaviour from new acquaintances.´

"Y..y..yo.. you, you talk!", stuttered the dragon, to which the bunny gave a grim frown.

"Yes, I talk. But not very often", Frolic said and closed his eyes and slumped his body, as if he was somehow shutting himself down.

"Damn it", said the crone. "He's a stubborn bastard, that bunny. Oh well, in any case; he found a method to get out of this place. Follow us, and we will guide you to your freedom".

"Why would you want to help me?", inquired the startled dragon.

"Because I have foreseen a great destiny for you! Also, I need some help. I will tell you in greater detail once we get out of this stinking place".

As the insane bunny-lady strode off, Lord Heat bit his tongue, expecting chaos as she stormed out amongst the crew working on the set outside. No sound was heard. For quite a long time there was nothing, and he eventually leaned his head closer and closer to the door, trying to pick up a sound.

"Are you coming?!?", came a loud squeal. The hag had appeared and shouted loudly and angrily into his sensitive ear, and the pure shock made him gasp and retract his head quicker than a snake.

"But.. the people?", Lord Heat whimpered.

"They're asleep. We've put a spell on them. Now hurry!"

With careful and slow steps, he haunched up at the doorway and looked outside. There were indeed lots of people asleep in random places all over the corridor. With an insecure smile, he snuck out of his sleeping chamber and followed the mad saviour. After having maneuvred around an unaccounted number of subtly animated antagonists, flinching only slightly in their unnatural sleep, he could see the opening of the cave. It was a bit of a hassle to move about without risking to step on one of the docile invaders, but once he spotted Eggelborn, it was probably a subconscious desire rather than an an accident that caused him to whip his tail against the chest of the unconscious director, even if he did feel bad for having done it. He loathed violence, after all.

Still air greeted his scaly body, along with sunshine and the sounds of chirping birds. Freedom, at last. He looked at the oddly limping woman, as she wordlessly trod past his massive form and stumbled down the cavernous steps leading up to his cave. With a giant sigh, he followed her, wondering solemnly where this trail would end.

Sprawled out on nature's own bed (á la "desert setting"), consisting mostly of earth, rocks and sand - lay a man in a way-too-large african shirt, militarian styled cargo shorts, a thick cotton cap with a hip-hop themed text on it, and a remarkably large monocle. Close to him lay a man very much dressed like a hobo. He had a pipe still stuck between his lips, and large pilot glasses that, along with his very chaotic beard, covered most of his face. The monocle-clad gentleman in the african shirt woke up and saw a minotaur staring down at him with a bemused look on his face.

"Lord Bored here. Who might you be, then?", said the minotaur.

"Doctor Wadsworth Muteberry, but you may call me Doctor Muteberry", said the man with the monocle as he sat up and looked around. All around him were dead trees and large, grayish stones. Apart from that, it appeared to be very much like a desert; barren, featureless. Boring. No wonder the minotaur was named Lord Bored. Anyone living here would indeed be a lord of boredom itself, Muteberry deduced. Yet he was curious as to why he was here, and how come certain changes to his person had been made.

"Do you know why I am no longer a barbaric highlander?", asked Muteberry.

"No. But I have heard of you. You're from Earth, right? I saw someone else from that planet before, a man called Gladsborough. We spoke quite a bit. He was apparently a BDSM instructor, whatever that means. He claimed to be the reason that you and he were sucked into this world. He had been walking around somewhere on a wide plain in Sweden, dressed up like a wizard. He wanted to confuse people who believed in a local legend. He then met with a crazy person who believed he was the real wizard, and that person wanted the wizard to cast a spell that would turn him into a barbaric highlander, armed with a scythe and an uncontrollable amount of testosterone. Amused at the request, that Gladsborough bloke decided to give it a whirl, but then it turned out his spell worked, much to his own surprise. After that, he was sucked into this world. He was here for a while, but he went another way".

"Damn! That bastard will pay! Not only am I back in my old form, but on top of that I am in another world! And my useless slave, Jupiter, is alive again, even though I killed him with a scythe before!", Muteberry shouted in agitation. When the bearded man with a pipe heard his name, he started to cough. Then he rose up, lit his pipe and began to smoke it. He stared ahead of him like a zombie, saying nothing. As was standard procedure, for him.

Not even his master, Muteberry, knew about his true past. Jupiter had in fact been a world famous metaphysics professor, but fame and fortune soon got to his head, and he started a heavy-duty "sex, drugs and rock n' roll" lifestyle that his body couldn't cope with for very long. These days, he knows little to nothing about anything, least of all himself, unless he is under the influence of powerful drugs. But sadly for him, he rarely gets treated with such, and is therefore reduced to being Muteberry's unintelligible slave, mindlessly droning about with a crooked back and smelly clothes. At the moment, he was in charge of carrying Muteberry's possessions, which consisted of only one item; a rather worn down megaphone.

"Still, roll with the punches, I always say, I guess", mumbled the disappointed Muteberry. "Who are you then, and what are you doing here?". The minotaur shook his shoulders casually. "I am the lord of these uninspiring lands. I am a wizard myself, but not a very powerful one, so there's no point in asking me to help you home or restore your other form. Also, in this world, we mages leak certain properties from our very being, as a consequence of our magical abilities. That is why we have such names; they are the signifiers of the specific peculiarities that we leak onto the world around us. In my case; I make people feel bored. Sadly, that includes myself".

Muteberry arched his eyebrows, looking about and concentrating thoroughly to note if he was feeling bored. Oddly enough, he felt pretty decent. Perhaps this minotaur was a living, breathing cure for his hyperactivity and confusion? Briefly glancing his slave, who appeared to occupy himself with clasping around his head, and moaning loudly while he gyrated his entire upper body around like an imbecile, Muteberry elucidated that the effect was very real on Jupiter at the very least. Not that he cared even in the least. Now was the time to plan his next step; find the false wizard and force him to cast another spell. It had apparently been a fluke the first time, but surely the same lucky outcome could be reproduced once again? Biting his lips, Muteberry suddenly had a cruel revelation; very likely the portal that drew them to this world was the reason that the spell worked in the first place. That would mean that another portal might bring him back to Earth and make the effects of a second spell work. He needed to find Gladsborough and force him to do his spell once more, near a portal.

"Want to follow me home? I have another minotaur mage visiting, perhaps he knows what to do? If nothing else, he is the only one I know that makes me feel slightly more comfortable with my situation..", Lord Bored said in a distant, indifferent tone.

"Great idea! We accept the offer, don't we, Jupiter?", said Muteberry with an ecstatic voice. Jupiter merely moaned louder as a reply, and then it was decided! Muteberry got up, brushed himself off and polished his monocle. "What's the name of this prodigal minotaur friend of yours, then?"

"Lord Drunk".

---