The other day I wrote a little about Interactive Fiction. For fun I decide to include a sample post. If you are curious, click the ‘Continue reading’ link.
“Halt,” barked the guard. And with good reason she called a halt. The man
seeking to enter the City did not look normal, if even right. The only thing of
normalcy about him was his hair, cut close to the skull to better augment the
receding hairline. Everything else was in disarray. Patchwork armor, incomplete,
patchwork clothes, eyes wild and of contrasting colours. Over his shoulder loomed
the long handle of a push broom, bristled end jutting from his left side. At his
hip was borne the remains of a sword, at least she assumed it was a sword.
She stood in his path, blocking entry into the City behind her. “Identify
yourself, and state your purpose here” she instructed. At her words, the man
focused his eyes one her, which was a peculiar site in itself. Drawing his
emaciated frame to its fullest height, he peered at her intently. “Nay,” he said
and there was a thick accent to his words, “Ye are too simple to be a Fiend of
Bartolo.” Executing a bow that was far more graceful than his hodge-podge body
seem capable of, he opened his arms, hands empty. “I greet thee, fair lady. You
may call me Sir Urn de Kafe, for neither am I short or stout, though a handle I
carry and am able to spout.”
“Forth here I come to hunt the fiends of the Evil Bartolo, Master of Disguise
and trepidity. Commissioned I am by Her Majesty Reina del CuCui. Twas she who
gave me my knighthood and she sayeth, ‘Forth shall ye go, Campeonato de los
Churros.’ And she directed that here I come, and I came, and now enter I shall.
For yon fair City reeks of the taint of Bartolo, stealer of Men’s Plates, soiler
of Women’s Cups.”
‘Perhaps a call to the asylum, would be most prudent,’ thought the guard, and
she cast her eyes to locate a messenger to send hastily. A bloodcurdling shriek
rose from the errant man, a shriek that surprised her. “The Fiends of Bartolo
are upon us,” he yelled. It took her by such surprise that he was past her
before she could make a grab. Nodding at some others, a small group of trainees
broke away and began chasing the man.
In the dark corners of alleys, where rats and dusk and mold likes to hide, he
hunted the Fiends of Bartolo. He could smell them, for he was El Caballero del
Montecargo, El Conquistador del Patos Chistosos. And he slew them, by the
thousands, leaving their mortal shells to be subsumed by the ground.
It was mid-morning when he left behind the haunts of The Bartolo,
Tickler of Children’s feet, Gum That Sticks to Ones New Shoes. Yes, he left that
behind for he thirsted and hungered, and casting aside the corpses of the fiends
he found an eatery and entered. Certainly The Bartolo was here too. For it was
name ‘The Estranged Goblin’. He entered, order food and partook. Behind him, in
the alleys, paper slashed and hacked as if by blade, wafted to the ground.
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