Books in MediEvil: Resurrection: Difference between revisions

Line 189:

<p style="text-align:center;">I heard a distant booming like thunder. I later discovered it was Zarok's ghost ship unleashing a terrible cannonade against the Kings Castle. As I stumbled towards the forest exit my befuddled mind was awash with many pressing questions: How would I gain acess to the castle ruins? Would I ever find my missing lower jaw? And most pressing of all, how would I make Al Zalam shut his yap for more than five seconds?</p>

<h5 style="text-align:center;">CATCHING UP WITH MR DEATH</h5>

<p style="text-align:center;">After my recent travails, I was relieved to bump into my old mucker Death. But my cheery greeting died on my lips - or where I used to keep my lips, anyway - when he gave me some frankly horrific news. He expects me to journey through the poos of the Ancient Dead. And to think I just had my boots Brasso'd.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">Slight confusion. Apparently it's the POOLS of the Ancient Dead. That's much better - I suppose. But I'll tell you this for nothing: 100 years festering in a box does nothing for your hearing.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">I don't believe the cheek of the bloke! I'm running errands for Death, now. I thought he had tiny elves for that sort of thing! He says he'll take me to the Haunted Ruins if I can collect up the pieces of his recently exploded robot mortality-monger and free his impounded boat.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">After all that faffing about, Death's done the dirty on me. Apparently, thanks to Zarok, the Haunted Ruins are now encircled with lava so there's no point going. Didn't want to go in his stupid boat anyway.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">Luckily, Al, a.k.a. The Voice From The Socket, may have come up with an idea, for once - instead of his usual stream of half-remembered Middle Eastern claptrap and jokes about dromedaries. He says that the Dragon King on Dragon Island may have a set of magical fireproof armour.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">Oh cheers, Death. Instead of lending a hand after I worked my fingers to the bone for him, he blithely announces he'll wait upstream for us, on the off-chance we get back with the retardant suit. Way to go, Charlie Hustle.</p>

</p>

<h5 style="text-align:center;">A SHORT STAY AT THE SEASIDE</h5>

<p style="text-align:center;">Ah, Scurvy Docks! You can almost smell the sea air - if you can pick it out from the stench of the lowlife who hang out round these parts. It's like chucking-out time in a scumbag theme pub. I sought the Harbour Master, with a view to obtaining a boat to take me to Dragon Island.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">The Harbour Master ahd the absolute cheek to cast doubt upon my credentials as a pirate - just because I'm wearing a suit of armour and didn't laugh at his Roger the Cabin Boy joke."Where's your tri-corn HAT? Where's your PARROT?" Honestly, I'm THIS close to beating that Harbour Master senseless with a sack full of crabsticks. Jobsworth.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">Finally. With my wooden leg, seagull, stupid hat and skull and crossbones, apparently I now passed muster as a pirate. The Harbour Master's a complete pain. If he'd asked for a patch over one eye I could at least have shut Al up for an hour or two - he's like a budgerigar if you plunge him into darkness. And after all that? A boat that looks slightly less seaworthy than Granny Fortesque's old hip-bath.</p>

<h5 style="text-align:center;">NERVOUSLY TO DRAGON'S ISLAND</h5>

<p style="text-align:center;">Well, my suspicions about the world's most pathetic seagoing vessel proved well founded. I only just made it to the island, I got soaked to the nines and I'm still baling out my codpiece. And yes, I was panicking. There are good reasons why armour is never used as a buoyancy aid.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">And so I got to meet the Dragon King. Dragon Breath more like. And hoity-toity to boot. And would he loosen his hot little grip on the family heirloom? Unhand the Dragon Plate Armour nice and easy for the good of Gallowmere? What do YOU think?</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">In the end, I had to beat the flame-retardant pants off him. Luckily, his resulting poor-loser sulk, and a swish of his powerful tail, meant I managed to avoid a potentionally hazardous return trip on the Sunken Rowboat of Atlantis.</p>

<h5 style="text-align:center;">SIGHTSEEING AT THE CASTLE</h5>

<p style="text-align:center;">Death finally agreed to take me to the Haunted Ruins. I hope it's as pretty as everyone says.This Dragon Armour stuff is top. Crossed the river of lava and barely broke a sweat.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">Finally I made it into the Haunted Ruins. After locating the king's lost crown I stood face to face with my old pal, the genial and garuulous monarch.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">Does EVERYONE have an angle? Old Kingy coughed up his chunk of Anubis mineral deposit. Then calmly informed me that I had to open some floodgates. Thereby releasing a deluge of lava beneath the castle, supposedly to destroy a certain horde of Shadow Demons. Someone is NOT going to be happy. ANd guess who'll be in the firing line?</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">Kingy P. opened a secret passage to the floodgate area, and in I went. That lever was mine for the pulling, baby. So I pulled it.With an inevitability that is really starting to get me down, this released two rather angry guardian golems.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">Phew, somehow finished them off, then a mad dash for the exit. Managed to reach it just seconds before the whole edifice crashed down around me. There was much rejoicing in the eye-socket of Fortesque. I wish the little squirt would quit jumping around in there - it plays havoc with my sinusitis.</p>

<h5 style="text-align:center;">SEASICK CRUISE</h5>

<p style="text-align:center;">Am on the Ghost Ship and feeling slightly apprehensive. The Fortesques were never known for their sea legs. (As evidenced by the chorus of wailing and nausea which filled the house every bath night).</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">After getting a bit lost in the bilges, I finally found a handily aimed cannon the size of a shire horse afte a hay-eating competition. Luckily, there were gunpowder kegs liberally dotted about the ship. And only several dozen plaited poltroons in my way. It was the work of a moment for me to collect all the kegs, stuff them into the cannon and launch myself skywards. Thus it was that I was able to fly over the barricades and into the Captain's quarters like an avenging silver streak. ....... of un-aerodynbamic scrap metal. One of these days I mnust learn how to fall from a great height.</p>

<p style="text-align:center;">The Pirate Captain talked a good fight (largely on the subject of what he'd do with various internal organs of mine when he got hold of me - clearly not realising it is many years since I had any). But I snuffed him out with a few well aimed cannon balls then set a course for Zarok's Lair. I hope! This armour plays havoc with navigational equipment. I think it has its own magnetic field.</p>

[[Category:Books]]