Broomstick - Part Nine

Greetings, and welcome to Inkweb! First of all, please click the link to Iron Wyvern to go and see the beginning of The Draconian Letters Book Two, opening with a letter from Smok's newly recovered uncle Trubodox!
Secondly, I am proud to announce that The Inspector Wolfe Tales, Part Nine, is below! I have also added it into the "Inspector Wolfe Tales" tab above, a nice little update if you want to read the whole of the project so far. Part 10 will be posted on Tuesday, April 23rd. Please enjoy!

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“Get in!” shouted Happy, shoving Grumpy through the doorway and into the vault. “Wolfy!”

I ignored him. My defense instincts had set in by now, and I was staring down a pack of turkey fiends. I growled, and they raised their feathers and gobbled menacingly.

The turkeys were pretty normal looking. Well, sort of. For the most part they were your average farm turkey: the colors, the shape, the beak, the feathers, the feet. They were what one might expect, except for a few things. First off: their teeth. Regular turkeys don’t have teeth, and these ones didn’t just have teeth. They had razor-sharp axeblade chompers, meant to maim and kill upon contact. Second point, the eyes. I shudder to think back on them. They were the most horrific sight I had ever seen in my life.

Well, they started shrieking like before, and I raised a growl before retreating back, my rational side overpowering my instincts.

“What was that, wolfy?” Happy barked as he shut the door behind me.

“Who cares right now?” Grumpy intervened. “Let’s find the key and go.”

This is Dopey. We’re retreating.

Bashful reporting. I’ve turned on the outer defenses for the vault and I’m making some upgrades. It’ll take the Peacefire team at least ten minutes to break in.

I looked around the room and was surprised at what I saw. It seemed that they didn’t keep the Nether key completely alone. Filing cabinets lined the room, neatly placed from A to Z. It was a big room too, and I hoped the dwarves knew how to get to the Nether key fast.

I heard a bang at the door. “That would be the turkeys,” Happy informed me. “Get over here and help look.”

“It should be filed under ‘Artifacts of Mass Destruction,’” Grumpy informed me cheerily. “Then under K, for ‘key.’”

“Okay,” I answered. “Where’s Artifacts of Mass Destruction?”

“In the D section, for ‘destruction, artifacts of mass.’ So, about nineteen rows back! Let’s get cracking.”

“How large is the section?” I inquired as we trotted down rows of filing cabinets. The werelights above followed us around the room, keeping everything nicely illuminated.

“Oh, probably about eight rows. But we’ll be looking at the beginning few shelves.”

I gulped. Eight whole shelves for the destruction section, and these dwarves were only after one thing. I reasoned that the Nether key must be even more powerful than rumored.

Grumpy led us down the nineteenth row, his eyes speedily scanning the shelves. “If only we had Sleepy with us,” he muttered. “He’s the most alert guy out of all seven of us.”

“Well, he is a neat carriage driver,” I remarked. “Speaking of which, what exactly is the getaway plan?”

“The getaway plan? Oh, that’s simple. We’ll—” Grumpy was cut off when Happy exclaimed, “Here it is! I found it!”

We rushed over to the other side of the row of cabinets, where Happy stood pointing at a single cabinet. “It’s in there, Grumps. It’s in that cabinet, by golly.”

I heard shouting and thumping outside. “That would be the Peacelocks,” I reminded them. “Let’s hurry up!”

“Well, the actual box is protected by more hexes,” Grumpy told me. “But we know our way past that. Bashful will take care of it when we get back to the King’s Men Club.” With those words, he pulled the whole drawer out of the filing cabinet and took the box from inside it. It was a simple black cube, and I couldn’t believe that such a powerful artifact was just shut up in there like a forgotten keepsake.

“They tried to destroy it, the Peacelocks,” Happy grunted. “But the idiots should have known. They couldn’t make a dent. It belonged to a king of shadows long ago. It was forged in the Nether realm, from the very essence of the ancient Titans. There’s no getting rid of that kind of power.”

“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “How are we doing that, by the way?”

“Oh, baby, you’re in for a surprise,” Grumpy chuckled, and then the doors blew open and the werelights turned crimson.

“Bouncing bugles!” cursed Happy, and ran toward the back of the room. Grumpy motioned for me to follow, and we all raced across the vault floor. I heard the shouts of Peacelocks and Peacefires behind us and saw the reflection of all the flashing lights on the walls and ceiling.

“Don’t look back!” Grumpy called as we reached the back wall of the room.

“What do we do? We’re at a dead end!” I gasped.

“Watch and learn, wolfy,” Happy sneered, and he pulled a playing card out of his pocket, on which was drawn a depiction of the seven dwarves’ room back at the King’s Men Club.

“Is that a veniflagrus card?” I asked in surprise.

“Absolutely, my friend,” cackled Grumpy. “Burns up as soon as we travel through. Grab Happy’s hand!”

I did as I was told, a thrill spreading through me. I glanced over my shoulder to see a line of Peacefire assault agents sweeping the room, crimson firebows at the ready, but that was the last I saw of that vault as I was dragged by a strange force into an interdimensional gap. It happened forever, and in a flash, and suddenly I was standing in the middle of the dwarves’ room in the club with Happy and Grumpy.

“Merlin’s bushy eyebrows!” I exclaimed. “That was jarring. Where’d you find a veniflagrus card?”

“We’ve got connections,” Happy said dodgily. “So who’s the wolf, exactly?”

“James,” I said, holding out a hand. Happy didn’t shake, so I dropped it. “I was sent by the Three to supervise the heist.”

“So you’re reporting how well we did?”

“Absolutely. And you did well.”

Grumpy grinned and set down the black box on one of the beds. “Well, we ain’t done yet. We have to crack the box open somehow.”

The door opened, and in rushed all the rest of the dwarves, swarming inside and pulling off masks. Grumpy, Happy, and I remembered to take our own masks off.

Bashful looked at Grumpy. “Where is it?” He looked tired and haggard, and out of breath. I wondered what toll magic must take on someone.

“It’s on the bed. Tonight we’re gonna crack it.”

I looked at the black box on the bed, the box that held death and destruction inside, all crammed into a few cubic inches. And then I made my move. “Actually,” I announced, “the Three said I was supposed to take it to a professional to get it open.”

“What?” Happy snarled. “That wasn’t what they told us! In fact, they never told us you’d be coming along, much less that you’d take our score. How do we know we can trust you?”

Grumpy frowned. “He has a point, actually. How do we know we can trust you?”

The other dwarves crowded around us, chorusing “Aye” with varying degrees of loudness.

“I never trusted him!” Happy growled. “And now he’s trying to rob us, ain’t he?”

“No, guys,” I tried to explain. “The bosses sent me, I swear!”

“Well, why don’t you prove it?” Dopey shrugged simply. Everybody turned and stared at him.
I gulped. This was going to be a hard sell.

Announcement: Camp NaNoWriMo

Welcome to Inkweb! I've decided to post about my experience so far of Camp NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo, to those who don't know, stands for National Novel Writing Month and is a non-profit organization devoted to getting your novel written. National Novel Writing Month takes place in November and is a challenge for you to write 50,000 words in a month.

Camp NaNoWrimo is part of the NaNoWrimo project, taking place in other months of the year. Note: It is not a real camp, it's only online. For this one, the target word count doesn't have to be 50,000 words, it can be anywhere from 10,000 words to 999,999 words (although I do not recommend the latter option) and it doesn't have to be a novel, it can be short fiction, nonfiction, a script, or whatever you choose.

I decided to participate in the April session of Camp NaNoWriMo and floor the accelerator, taking my novel's word count to 75000 words, which is turning out to be harder than I thought. Currently I'm about four thousand words behind but that's not the worst I've been and I think I've got it in me to come back. I believe my whole month will be like a surging tide: I'll write like crazy and get up to the target, and then be exhausted and take a break to do other things like school and fall behind about 5000 words before writing my way back into the game. AAAAGGGGHHHH. I'm feeling exhausted already, and it's only the end of week 1.

On top of that, I lost my flash drive so I don't have a big chunk of my writing from the last few days. I've continued in a different document but it's weird not having half my project. I hope I can find my flash drive and add in everything else to the document before the end of the month.

Anyway, here's an excerpt from the part of my novel that I haven't managed to lose, incinerate, or crush under a tractor:

"The city of Brasilia was packed. Alabaster buildings were stuck so close together that in some places the road wasn’t quite as big as the Jeep; pedestrians and bikers were everywhere on the road, and sometimes there would be a fruit vendor squatting with his fruit stand right in the middle of the road.

Birds were everywhere, in every nook or cranny known to man. There were bright colorful birds obviously from that region, and there were darker colored, less vibrant ones as well; they perched on poles and wires, they flocked together on windowsills and bicycles; they filled the air with an incessant flapping noise that stirred up the air into a miniscule whirlwind of currents. Feathers fell through the air like snow, adorning the ground in great green, red, yellow, black piles. There were parrots and parakeets, macaws, a hawk or two hovering high overhead, but the crows gave by far the most clear impression. They were giants, black hulks crouching on telephone poles in groups of about two or three, never a whole murder all together at once, but definitely sticking to each other. While the other birds frolicked, these black-beaked birds sat silently like dark angels staring at the children of light."

-J.W. Ball, In the Trappings of Lost Gold

And, JTZ, please don't spoil the ending in the comments. I didn't even want you to know the ending for this, but you looked at my notes anyway, so, oh well.

Please visit Iron Wyvern and Coal Ridge, everybody! Links here:

www.ironwyvern.blogspot.com

www.ancientryme.blogspot.com

And don't forget to answer the poll at the top right!

Couplets - A Poetry Challenge

A challenge, cried the herald, a challenge for you!

What challenge, asked the king, the challenger who?

Welcome to Inkweb, and please enjoy the first poetry challenge ever on this site! For our inaugural session, there are virtual unicorn rides, blogcorn, and cyber-candy! Yay! Don't forget the pixel sombreros!

!!!

Here we go!

A couplet is a fairly simple form of verse. It's easy to come up with: write two lines that rhyme with each other.

So here's the challenge:

1. Comment with a second line to finish this couplet:

"The Minoan goats loved to think"

2. Write an original couplet of your own! Feel free to share it in a comment below, but you don't have to.

3. (optional but recommended) Answer the poll question at the top right corner of the blog.

4. (also optional but recommended) Check out Iron Wyvern and Coal Ridge! Their links are to the left. I help co-author Iron Wyvern, and Coal Ridge is a blog, mainly for poetry, created by one of the other co-authors! Really, have a great time going through those blogs.

Broomstick - The Inspector Wolfe Tales, #1 - Part Eight

This is Dopey, roger. We’re in. Commence secondary diversion and deploy primary maneuvers.

Grumpy looked up. “That’s our cue. Let’s get out of these itchy bushes.” We jumped up and cut across the lawn towards the building. I felt my heart pumping like crazy as the adrenaline set in. I was going to help commit the crime of the century. And then I was going to stop the crime of the millennium. Someone needed this Nether Key, and I just knew it had to be connected with Alice’s disappearance.

“Why are we attacking at midday?” I puffed as we got to the wall of the building and Grumpy unzipped a black bag.

“Security’s worse at night, you idiot,” Happy snapped. “So we’re attacking in the middle of the day when the guards are really bored.”

“Unfortunately cannibal turkeys never get bored,” Grumpy remarked matter-of-factly as he stapled a circular length of wire to the wall and got out his wand. “All right, buckos, step back.”

His wand sparked, hitting the fuse on the wire, and with a short abrupt bang, the wall crumbled inward in a circle of plaster and brick. Grumpy led us in.

We’re in, Happy signaled.

All right, commencing secondary maneuvers, remarked Bashful with something of a gleeful tone to his thoughts.

“So we’re the primary maneuvers?” I whispered.

“No need to whisper, dolt,” Happy told me. “Of course we’re the primary maneuvers. We’re going to steal the Nether Key. The others are just distractions.”

“Except for Bashful,” Grumpy smirked. “He’s going to wreak some havoc.”

I restrained myself from asking the manner of this havoc. If I appeared to be too inquisitive, I might lose my credibility. I was supposed to be stern and tough, an overseer sent from “the three,” whoever they were.

We advanced down a corridor, torches on the walls rapidly flickering red and an alarm siren echoing through the halls along with the bloodcurdling wails of the carnivorous turkeys.

“Backup will be here in ten,” Grumpy remarked. “We’ll have to be quick.” We raced down several hallways and up several staircases until we arrived at a large steel vault door.

Diversion in progress, Bashful updated. Suddenly the noise of sirens cut, and the torches stopped flickering. I still heard the screeching of the turkeys, but overall the building was much quieter. Silent alarm cut; cancelling reserve spells. Backup is on its way, but the Peacelocks no longer have were-camera feed or communication with the building.

How is he doing that? I asked, taking advantage of the worm coiled around my brain.

He’s at the security control room, where all the defense spells were originally cast, Grumpy replied. Bashful’s good with magic.

Bashful’s thoughts came in again. Working on vault hexes now. Clock’s ticking.

I heard muffled thumps coming through the floor, and the building shook a little.

Fighting security, messaged Dopey. Taking heavy spellfire from Peacelocks. Doc’s trying to distract the turkeys but it’s not working well. Enemies headed your way.

I heard the shrill keening of the bloodthirsty avians as they drew nearer to us, getting louder and louder and rising to a discordant apex pitch.

Hexes disabled; working on wards and curses now, Bashful informed us. Backup just arrived, three regular Peacelock carriages and a Peacefire crack team. They’re fanning out and preparing to breach. A suspenseful pause, and then: Vault unlocked. You’re free to enter.

Happy shot his hand out and grasped the handle of the steel door, twisting gently and pushing the door inward. It made not a sound as it swung open.

And then the turkeys rounded the corner.

Announcement: Coal Ridge

If any of you buckaroos out there has been paying attention to Iron Wyvern (www.ironwyvern.blogspot.com) then you already know about Coal Ridge. However, I wasn't going to count on that and I wanted you to get a heads-up.

A good friend of mine, T. Granger, who makes up the "T" in "JTZ Baner, has begun a blog of poetry entitled Coal Ridge. Here's the link:

www.ancientryme.blogspot.com

Enjoy, critique, have fun! He just wants suggestions and helpful criticism, and perhaps a little bit of praise thrown in there as well.

-Joel 

Shoes (& Important Announcement)

Shoes. Anybody wear them?

Well, anyway. That was just to grab your attention. The next installment of Inspector Wolfe is below. And the other one's under it, in case you haven't caught up. Just click the label "Inspector Wolfe Tales" in the Post Index to the left to get them all in chronological order.

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:

The Inspector Wolfe Tales will be posted thrice a month, beginning next month. The dates of the posting of each installment will be:

10TH OF THE MONTH

23RD OF THE MONTH

LAST DAY OF THE MONTH

This month, March, however, since I missed the 10th of the month, it will be just today, the 23rd, and the last day, the 31st.

Broomstick - The Inspector Wolfe Tales, #1 - Part Seven

I stared at the building, at its magnificent glory. It stood for the destruction of crime and the construction of peace. And I was about to help break into it.

I had three choices: (a) run away, (b) go ahead with the heist, or (c) make sure the heist goes awry. My mind automatically chose option (b).

I’ll explain. In a deep cover operation like this, you really can’t risk aborting the mission when lives might be on the line. Alice was fading fast and the quickest way to get to her was to join up with these guys. If there was a delay, say, if I chose option (c), then their plan would be stalled, and Alice would most likely have completely faded by then.

Grim as this was, I had to carry on and steal the Nether Key.

Have we discussed the Nether Key? Maybe not. I’ll tell you later.

Anyway, Grumpy signaled for me to come with him and Dopey, and we headed around the perfectly-manicured lawns to a clump of bushes around back of the building, where we found another dwarf with a mask over his face crouching there.

“About time you showed up!” he growled. “And who’s Big Bad ‘n Bushy over there?”

I snarled at him. “I’m with the Three. They want me on the mission.”

“What?” the dwarf snapped. “We’ve already got plenty of cover in these bushes without you. Speaking of which, get in here before we get spotted!”

“Hey, cut the attitude, Happy,” Grumpy said, and I realized the identity of this snarky personage. “I’m in charge here, and I’m telling you—he’s with us. The Three sent him. You know how it is. They’re giving us that big honking paycheck.”

“Whatever,” Happy spat. “Come on. And here’s an extra earpiece for our guest.” He reached into one of the bushes and pulled out a slimy green worm that wriggled between his stubby fingers. I instantly recognized the specimen as being a Terravermis limus, more commonly known as a “seashell slug” and having very interesting properties. If split in half, each half would grow into a full slug, psychically connected. A practical use of this property is to insert the slug into one’s nose, where it will slither up and coil around the brain. Thus, if there are more of these slugs elsewhere in other people’s brains, then one can transmit thoughts to the others via the psychic connection between the seashell slugs. It sounds disgusting. It is.

I grimaced under my mask and took the slug. I lifted up my mask and slid it carefully into my nostril. I felt horrible, like I was about to sneeze, and the slug slithered up my nostril. I started to gag and felt it tickling the inside of my head, and then I snorted and my jaw hung slack.

“Oh, no,” Happy hissed. “He’s gonna sneeze!”

Never sneeze with a seashell slug half-coiled around your brain. I, luckily, managed to swallow down the impending storm and seized up as the tickling in my brain continued.

Then it all stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief and suddenly heard all six dwarves’ thought-chatter.

Donuts, said one of them. Bread and donuts. I thought I recognized Bashful.

This is Dopey, setting up the breach spells with Doc and Sneezy. The operation was going down already. They were going to steal the Nether Key right now, and I was going to sit by listening into their thoughts.

I needed to get a splice of my worm to a Peacelock detective. If the dwarves pulled off another heist, they’d be able to listen into their thoughts and capture them. I just hoped they reused their worms.

We hunkered down in the bushes as quietly as we could manage. Dopey sent another message. Breaching the wall in three, two...
Then I heard it. A horrible wailing shriek, emanating from the Magical Artifacts Impound.

The deadly turkeys were on the prowl.