Bad Heroes [TFTG]

December 22, 2012
Saturday
0900 hrs
Holiday Inn Laramie, Wyoming

Beezzer Freemly groaned into a pillow. An empty bottle of scotch, testament to the night before.
He sat up slowly, wishing for the 99th time that he didn't take a stupid job right before the holidays. His wife and sons, safely visiting family in Montana, didn't have to bear witness to the unshaven stinking drunk that rolled from the bed.
On the bright side, Beezzer thought, I got to lay into the doomists who panicked about December 21st. Drinking and laughing all night long, Beezzer, slayed a few "dragons" who had spent the past year worrying about the Mayan calendar and the changes that would come about.
Noticing the quiet that fell upon the hotel, Beezzer quietly shuffled to the bathroom to clean out the mess that some large cat, probably a puma, thought Beezzer, had left on his tongue.
A cold sink-bath, mouthwash and a cigarette, brought some sense back to Beezzer has he walked back to the desk, and lifted the telephone for a large room service breakfast.
"No dial tone?", he said to himself as he rattled and beat on the phone. Shivering, he leaned over to crank up the thermostat and when that didn't work, anger grew.
"Well isn't this freaking lovely!" Hitting the remote on the TV brought nothing, as he noticed that the room was only lit by the harsh winter sunlight, feebly pouring through the hotel curtains.
No power, no phone, no hot water (he finally noticed). What kind of storm hit this place?
Throwing a dirty pair of jeans and a "I heart eating dead things" sweatshirt on and a pair of old sneakers, Beezzer made his way to the lobby, remembering to take his wallet and leaving the door unlocked, these card keys would do him no good, if locked out with power down.

The lobby was empty as Beezzer walked down the stairs. Shouting for anyone, he quickly quieted down, the total silence spooking him far more than the lack of power.

He looked out the window, expecting to see the 7-11 across the street as well as the Days Inn, and a Golden Coral.

Instead he saw nothing. Well, not nothing. It was a field. Small shacks dotted the landscape that was patched with snow. Where he expected to see the mesas of southeast Wyoming, he saw small rolling hills instead.

I had a stroke. I drank too much. I'm going to throw-
Beezzer vomited on the carpet of the hotel lobby. Shock driving everything from his system.
Wiping his mouth he thought, "I need to get some help" and ran blind out of the hotel, turning away from the rolling hills and ran smack into a stone wall.
Nose bleeding and lower lip split, Beezzer looked at the impossible stone wall and whimpered. Seeing a doorway he jumped up and ran through, hoping to find someone, anyone who could help him.
His run landed him into a large wood and stone room filled with wood smoke, and people.
They stopped talking the second he ran in, turned as one to stare, then cheered and clapped him on the back.
"W-w-w-what?" He looked around in panic.

A large sweaty man dressed in beaten leather walked up to him and said, "Behold, another joins the fight! Another hero to rescue us!"

"W-w-w-w-huh?" Beezzer said.

The crowd parted to let through a giant. Standing easily 6 and three quarter feet, the man walked towards Beezzer wearing armour and jeans, Beezzer noticed a watch on the man's right arm and well as a leather bracelet on his left.

The man walked up to Beezzer and said, "Relax. You're among friends. Apparently, last night an unbalancing took place. Something to do with the Mayan calendar. But don't worry. I've been training for this all my life. The name is Carl Gunbolt, from Troy Michigan."

Beezzer shook Carl's hand and stared at him. "An unbalancing? Are you kidding me? My checkbook is unbalanced, my colon is unbalanced, my mental fracking state is unbalanced, and now the whole world is too?"

Carl smiled and said, "Not the whole world my friend. Just a small part. But not to worry. Again, I've trained for this my entire life, why, you should be back home in a few hou-"

That's when the 4 foot bolt, obviously fired from a rather large crossbow, shot though a window and into Carl's massive neck.

The crowd froze, then as one stampeded out of the room leaving a still standing Carl, and a blood splattered Beezzer, just staring at each other.

Carl sank to his knees, looking at nothing, and then fell forward, driving the bolt the rest of the way through his throat.

Strange sounds came from outside. Screams, and yelps and shrieks that had an unearthly tone to them.

Beezzer sank to his knees, still staring at Carl's still form when he felt a tug on his hand.
He looked down to see a small figure, a foot maybe in height, dressed in gossamer silk, it highlighted the beating wings on the creatures back.
It tugged at his hand again and said in a surprising loud voice, "If you want to live, come with me."

reply to post by beezzer


I've always enjoyed the modern person being transported to other timelines/dimensions type of stories. Two of my favorites (though I cannot remember the names of the books and Google has not helped), one concerned a US Army Infantry squad in Vietnam that were transported to Medieval times and the other concerned a US Navy test vessel that was transported back in time (It was sail powered)

Please continue the story if you can.

And what does [TFTG] stand for?

reply to post by TDawgRex

Tales From The Grimoire [TFTG]

Thanks. I don't have much experience with this genre so I write what I know!

A scotch-swilling vet who's beat to crap and over the hill.

My son wants me to continue so, just for him I will, but thanks for the encouragement!

reply to post by beezzer


A welcome addition to the realm of fantasy. I can't wait for more.

I have to give you a S & F just because we both included drunkeness in our stories.

reply to post by beezzer


Yes, you should continue this, I for one am interested to see where it goes. SnF.

However, (yes, there's always that darn however!)

That's when the 4 foot arrow, obviously fired from a rather large crossbow, shot though a window and into Carl's massive neck.

Bows shoot arrows, and crossbows shoot bolts. To have a four foot bolt, the diameter would be about 4 inches.

Yea, I guess I am picking, after all, it is just a story.

Not that it's required, but a perusal of a good d&d wiki may help.

Waiting for more......

Originally posted by isyeye
reply to post by beezzer

 

A welcome addition to the realm of fantasy. I can't wait for more.

I have to give you a S & F just because we both included drunkeness in our stories.

Thank you. It's a subject I'm well versed on!

(hey mods, can I be a SME on booze?)

reply to post by Druid42


Changes made. Humble thank you for the edit.

Glad you enjoy the story.

reply to post by beezzer


I liked it.
Then again I can't resist anything with fairies or feyish folk in it. LOL.

reply to post by beezzer


S&F - Thanks for putting the link in your signature - I wouldn't have seen it otherwise. Nice start! I look forward to seeing where it goes.

Originally posted by ldyserenity
reply to post by beezzer

 

I liked it.

Then again I can't resist anything with fairies or feyish folk in it. LOL.

Thank you. Humble apologies for taking so long to reply. I've actually been writing!

Originally posted by gwynnhwyfar
reply to post by beezzer

 

S&F - Thanks for putting the link in your signature - I wouldn't have seen it otherwise. Nice start! I look forward to seeing where it goes.

Thanks. It's a work in progress, but it is progressing.