Ardy Mcfargus
The date: September 10th, 2163. The place: Earth, Europe, London. What once was Buckingham Palace. A narrow figure stands at the top of the stair, arms outstretched, addressing the world. Addressing his empire.
Majestic poetry flows from his mouth: “So…ya…you kahunas over in Sector Quatro need ta stop riotin’ about the FREAKIN’ bean crop! I wanted the weather warm that week cuz I wanted a sunny, summery-ish vay-cay. Got it? So simmer down a smidge or I’mma knock y’off the planet like the stinkers down in Oceania (Sector Twelve that is).”
This is no ordinary man. This is Ardy McFargus, Dictator of the World. He was nineteen when he finally overthrew the last civilized government on earth. Now he reigns over all, and a glorious new order was sculpted with his masterful hands.
It all began in the year 2159 when young Ardy was drinking grape Fanta at his apartment in Sacramento. He had recently been removed from the college he had attended, and he was a little bored. He watched the foot traffic of the town rush by: children on bikes, surfers marching to the beach, and losers with jobs going to work. A profound thought emerged from our brilliant ruler’s mind: “Duuuuuude. I’munna, like, take over the world.” So he did. He started by demonstrating his power: blasting the most hated country off the world, The Independent Republic of Chicago, with a thermo-nuclear charge. (Did I mention our fearless leader uses plutonium to digest his Cheerios in the morning?)
With Chicago out of the way, Dictator McFargus won over the rest of the world with his infallible charm and undeniable DDR skills, and divided the world into 30 sectors. In these sectors, The Cool Cucumbers (Ardy’s secret police. Yes, he came up with that title.) forced the people to build factories for the good of the Dictator. Ardy gets anything he wants, whenever he eloquently requests it. In addition, the all-powerful Prince of Earth can control the weather with his radioactive powers.
Back to the present. After Ardy McFargus’s speech, he walked into the new and improved Buckingham Palace, his headquarters, and was met by his butler droid, BTLR. “Marvelous speech, sire. May I take your jacket for cleaning?” “Thanks, BTLR. Make some ramen for me too. Ya…I thought of that speech right off the toppa my head. Unbelievable, right? I’m like the best.”
The glorious leader of men then proceeded to his bedroom with flawless grace and posture, while humming More Than a Feeling. He was about to flop into the hot tub to await his lunch, when his head counselor bot, TLDR, intercepted him. “Sir, it’s about the riots. Your speech stopped them for approximately 1.75 seconds, and then they proceeded to light themselves on fire in protest. Something must be done. In addition, ArdyCare’s popularity is plummeting in Sector 22--“ Ardy cut him off. “Stuff it in your USB and let me soak, bruh. I’ll deal with those bozos later. Why don’t you just chill for a bit, TLDR? Uh…you have, like, stuff ta do, right? Go do that.” And with a well-aimed shove, the counselor droid was out of his room.
When Ardy turned around he saw something that wasn’t expected. Where his hot tub once was, a roaring black whirlpool took its place. The temperature plummeted instantly in the bedroom. His thought process went on something like this:
“Hold up.”
“Hot tub?”
“Ya, dude.”
“No it’s not.”
“Sure it is.”
“Okay.”
The only thing that emerged from The Dictator’s trembling lips was “nnnnrrrghhhuuuuh….” With shaking hands, he took off his classy goggles and rubbed his eyes. Looked up. The whirlpool had dissipated. With a shaky sigh, Ardy continued like nothing happened, muttering something like, “…said the rocks would wear off by now,” and stepped into the warm, bubbling pool. With one foot in, the portal reappeared with a whiiiishhh. Ardy grabbed desperately for the leg of his royal bed like a cornered beast. Reaching and reaching, his fingers almost grasping the wooden post. Gone.
The place: quaint forest on the outskirts of the Known Kingdom. Thick, gnarled trees stood like sentinels over the wood. Yellow wildflowers shifted in the wind. Feral roots gripped the earth like throbbing arteries. Birds chirped. And Ardy McFargus, Ex-dictator of the World, dropped out of the sky and crunched onto a blossoming bush. “Trippiest dream ever, I swear,” he said to no one in particular (or perhaps the bush). The glorious ex-King of Earth went over a mental checklist: he could wiggle his toes, lick his lips, and count to 4. Everything was normal. “Hold on, where’s my helmet? Where’s my goggles? WHERE AM I?” grabbing at his unclothed head and surveying the land, Ardy realized he had no idea where he could be. Ardy babbled. He sobbed dramatically, and demanded several things to no one in particular (or perhaps the bush). A long span of time passed. Maybe even a whole minute passed, and Ardy glanced upwards and found a blade poking his throat.
A menacing group of various odd-looking folks stood around him, wearing light metal and leather armor stained charcoal black. They seemed to be equipped for fast travel. The bald man with a jutty chin, the one with the nasty sword at Ardy’s throat, spoke first. “You know the deal, half-elf. Coin and valuables. Pay up.” He held out a calloused hand. Half elf?
“Heyo! Take a breather there, fellas.” The scrawny earthling scuttled to his feet and backed into a thick tree. “We could, like, talk about this.” An orc with a menacing great axe, probably the second in command, snorted. “No negotiations! Give or die!” Ardy was hoping he would say that. In his mind he imagined a singular wave of nuclear power resonating through the wood and wasting the whole bunch of them. “Meet yur makers, dirt clods!” Breathing quickly through his nostrils and shutting his eyes, the thin man positioned his feet, bunched up his arms, and stabbed deftly with his hands towards the band of thugs.
Ardy exhaled. For a few heartbeats, silence. Then, guttural laughter. Ardy opened his eyes to a crew of chortling, unharmed muggers. “What in Bahamut was that?” And like nothing happened, the bald man held out his rugged hand again. “I’m gonna be real with you dudes. I have, like, no cash.” Surprisingly, the bald man grinned. “No pay, eh? Then we play.” Ardy turned another shade paler. Two thick men grabbed Ardy and began to tie him to the tree. Between hyperventilating and endless threats, Ardy picked up something the orc was saying to bald man. “Sir, what of Rellin and the boy? We’re just letting them get away?” Ardy felt knot tie taut on his bindings. The bald man grunted, “I already know where they’re going. I interrogated the keeper of the inn they stayed at a few days ago. They’re heading for the last ship to Nexur. If we run hard tomorrow, we’ll get there before the traitor and the devil boy do.” Nexur didn’t sound familiar to Ardy. The brute then turned to Ardy. “Playtime!”
The ugly orc stuck an old apple in Ardy’s mouth as the bald bandit took ten or eleven paces away from the tree, drawing a light crossbow. “First shot gents, just watch.” Ardy struggled against his bristly rope bindings. Again, he tried to use his nuclear powers. Nothing happened. The apple tasted bitter in his mouth. His breathing hastened through his nostrils. Then something odd happened. The rope tightened around Ardy’s arms. The apple dropped out of his mouth. Ardy’s head swam, and time began to slow. He glanced weakly at the bandits and saw that none of them were jeering or laughing any more. Even Old Baldy was speechless. His crossbow hung loosly at his side. Ardy tried to ask what was going on, but the words couldn’t come to him. And just as instantly as everything slowed down, everything sped up in a snap. Then Ardy felt this trippy separation from his body. He felt numb as he stood up, and began to charge the bandits. Wait, he was charging the bandits? Then his vision became ringed with red, and Ardy saw pummeling, smashing, and crushing. For a short instant, amidst the blood roaring in his ears, he heard screaming, and saw a monstrous, hairy, black hand wrench the great axe from the bulky orc’s hands, and deftly chop him down with it. Then another humungous hand came into view, holding a five-foot-long steel sword. Together, with axe and sword, a small pack of fearful bandits was cut down in one synchronized sweep.
When Ardy regained control of his body, he found himself pinning down the bald bandit leader, which didn’t seem quite right, considering he was twice Ardy’s size. “Wait, bruh, what happened?” the ex-Dictator demanded heroically. Between shaky breaths, the pinned criminal stuttered, “My grandmother was a Druid, you know. I never saw her take that kind of shape before…” the bandit paused for breath and licked his sweaty lips. Behind him, Ardy noticed three bandits splayed out on the dirt. They weren’t breathing. Ardy then realized he didn’t need to hold the bald man; he either couldn’t move, or was too afraid to. “You have a primal force in you I’ve never seen, half-elf. I could sense it in you just like I could in my grandmother, but not this strongly. I should’ve known….I should’ve known…” small tears sprung from the grown man’s eyes. Ardy yelled at him, “Whaddya mean?! I didn’t DO anything! I just kinda sat there and waited for you to bust a cap in my gob, and I stood up! I didn’t do any of this stuff!” He rotated around and counted three, four more bandits on the ground. “Now where on Earth am I?” he asked the leader. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re in uncharted woods. Civilization is eastwards. But why are asking me all this? Stop messing with me and end it.” He heard the bandit say between his teeth. Ardy whipped around. “What, killya? I don’t have my nuclear organs anymore, so I can’t, dude. If ya can’t tell me where we are, go home. Or better yet, turn yurself in. They have cable in prison, bro, and that’s not just a rumor.”
So the scumbag was turned loose, and Ardy wandered through the woods, walking away from the westward sinking sun. This continues for a few days and nights, walking east as the bald man told him. He slept on the ground against a tree every night, which didn’t seem to regenerate his energy at all. Hunger wasn’t a problem, though. Every time Ardy woke up in the morning, he found his stomach full. Finding water was an issue, though. After a few days without it, Ardy found a small gurgling stream and drank deeply. Glancing at his reflection, he found everything was normal about him; thin, pale face, black dreadlocks, and grey-blue eyes. The one thing that made him jump was his pointed ears. He touched them gingerly, and fresh water shot from his nostrils. “I should have kept up my World of Warcraft subscription,” Ardy mumbled as he trudged on east. One evening, a mountain lion paced its way towards Ardy’s temporary sleeping spot under a tree. Ardy had decided he would lay low and make sure he wasn’t found. A tugging sensation throbbed in his gut, and from somewhere nearby a threatened, raspy growl emitted. Much to his surprise, the cougar took one wary look at him and bolted off. It was only after the beast was out of sight that Ardy realized it was he that growled.
It was on the fifth day he spotted the first sign of civilization. A bar, it seemed, with a picture of a horse on a hanging wooden sign. Below it in faded letters it read, ‘The Drunk Stallion’ and below that were a bunch of faded markings. Ardy stumbled in. “Hey, whichever kahuna’s in charge, I wanna drankie and a roast beef sandwich.” He sat down on a wooden stool and didn’t bother to look around. The only thing on his mind was some fresh-cooked food. A red-faced man behind the bar seemed to have heard him and walked into a back room. “Hold up…why aren’t you a robot?” Ardy yelled back to him. No response. The owner probably couldn’t afford androids. Several minutes later, the bartender returned with a fat sandwich and a tall glass of orange-tinged liquid that bubbled. Ardy downed the sandwich and drink instantly. “ANOTHER!” Ardy cried, and the bartender’s face bunched up. He stuck a crooked knife in the wood of the bar and grumbled, “Pay for your first one. You do have coin, don’t you?” Just as Ardy was about to respond, a penguin waddled up to the two of them, stared blankly at Ardy, and slapped two small coins onto the bar. “Quack,” he said. “A bird of few words, I see. You gonna pay for my food, bro?” The penguin did the closest thing to a nod he was probably capable of.
The eating and drinking went on all night. The penguin was a good listener, and Ardy told him all about what had happened to him in the forest. The penguin agreed to show him where the next boat to the Mainland was the next morning. The penguin slept in one of the upper rooms of the bar usually, and Ardy attempted to mooch off him a few more coins for room and board for one night, but something about the way the bird gestured at him with his woodwind instrument told him he was sleeping in the woods tonight.
Ardy awoke to shifting shadows in the afternoon sunshine. There was a cloaked figure standing over him! “Hey, watch it, ya loon! Personal space, dude.” The figure didn’t respond for a few moments. Then they spoke with a dark yet melodious tone: “Careful, Ardy. Druid blood is worth some hefty coin around here.” Ardy stood up. “Bro, how do you know my name? And why’d you call me ‘droodoo’? Like, what’s that even mean?” he turned, and Ardy saw a flash of yellow eyes under the dark hood. “I saw you crush that party of Black Wolves as a silverback gorilla. And I’ve observed you change shape every night when the moon rises and hunt. It seems you lack control over your powers for the moment, but I suppose your true destiny can be put on hold for a few months.” A cluster of questions spilled of Ardy at once. “I’ve been doing what? A big monkey? Every night?”
The figure removed his hood. His face was dark red and scaly, with a human face and ebony horns pushing out of his forehead. “My name is Kuryin. I did this to you.” And with that, a cold, black portal opened in the ground. Kuryin leapt in without another sidelong glance. “Wait up, ya jerk-wad! Take me back to Earth!” Ardy dropped in to the portal, and awoke in a barrel of fish even further from home.
The date: September 10th, 2163. The place: Earth, Europe, London. What once was Buckingham Palace. A narrow figure stands at the top of the stair, arms outstretched, addressing the world. Addressing his empire.
Majestic poetry flows from his mouth: “So…ya…you kahunas over in Sector Quatro need ta stop riotin’ about the FREAKIN’ bean crop! I wanted the weather warm that week cuz I wanted a sunny, summery-ish vay-cay. Got it? So simmer down a smidge or I’mma knock y’off the planet like the stinkers down in Oceania (Sector Twelve that is).”
This is no ordinary man. This is Ardy McFargus, Dictator of the World. He was nineteen when he finally overthrew the last civilized government on earth. Now he reigns over all, and a glorious new order was sculpted with his masterful hands.
It all began in the year 2159 when young Ardy was drinking grape Fanta at his apartment in Sacramento. He had recently been removed from the college he had attended, and he was a little bored. He watched the foot traffic of the town rush by: children on bikes, surfers marching to the beach, and losers with jobs going to work. A profound thought emerged from our brilliant ruler’s mind: “Duuuuuude. I’munna, like, take over the world.” So he did. He started by demonstrating his power: blasting the most hated country off the world, The Independent Republic of Chicago, with a thermo-nuclear charge. (Did I mention our fearless leader uses plutonium to digest his Cheerios in the morning?)
With Chicago out of the way, Dictator McFargus won over the rest of the world with his infallible charm and undeniable DDR skills, and divided the world into 30 sectors. In these sectors, The Cool Cucumbers (Ardy’s secret police. Yes, he came up with that title.) forced the people to build factories for the good of the Dictator. Ardy gets anything he wants, whenever he eloquently requests it. In addition, the all-powerful Prince of Earth can control the weather with his radioactive powers.
Back to the present. After Ardy McFargus’s speech, he walked into the new and improved Buckingham Palace, his headquarters, and was met by his butler droid, BTLR. “Marvelous speech, sire. May I take your jacket for cleaning?” “Thanks, BTLR. Make some ramen for me too. Ya…I thought of that speech right off the toppa my head. Unbelievable, right? I’m like the best.”
The glorious leader of men then proceeded to his bedroom with flawless grace and posture, while humming More Than a Feeling. He was about to flop into the hot tub to await his lunch, when his head counselor bot, TLDR, intercepted him. “Sir, it’s about the riots. Your speech stopped them for approximately 1.75 seconds, and then they proceeded to light themselves on fire in protest. Something must be done. In addition, ArdyCare’s popularity is plummeting in Sector 22--“ Ardy cut him off. “Stuff it in your USB and let me soak, bruh. I’ll deal with those bozos later. Why don’t you just chill for a bit, TLDR? Uh…you have, like, stuff ta do, right? Go do that.” And with a well-aimed shove, the counselor droid was out of his room.
When Ardy turned around he saw something that wasn’t expected. Where his hot tub once was, a roaring black whirlpool took its place. The temperature plummeted instantly in the bedroom. His thought process went on something like this:
“Hold up.”
“Hot tub?”
“Ya, dude.”
“No it’s not.”
“Sure it is.”
“Okay.”
The only thing that emerged from The Dictator’s trembling lips was “nnnnrrrghhhuuuuh….” With shaking hands, he took off his classy goggles and rubbed his eyes. Looked up. The whirlpool had dissipated. With a shaky sigh, Ardy continued like nothing happened, muttering something like, “…said the rocks would wear off by now,” and stepped into the warm, bubbling pool. With one foot in, the portal reappeared with a whiiiishhh. Ardy grabbed desperately for the leg of his royal bed like a cornered beast. Reaching and reaching, his fingers almost grasping the wooden post. Gone.
The place: quaint forest on the outskirts of the Known Kingdom. Thick, gnarled trees stood like sentinels over the wood. Yellow wildflowers shifted in the wind. Feral roots gripped the earth like throbbing arteries. Birds chirped. And Ardy McFargus, Ex-dictator of the World, dropped out of the sky and crunched onto a blossoming bush. “Trippiest dream ever, I swear,” he said to no one in particular (or perhaps the bush). The glorious ex-King of Earth went over a mental checklist: he could wiggle his toes, lick his lips, and count to 4. Everything was normal. “Hold on, where’s my helmet? Where’s my goggles? WHERE AM I?” grabbing at his unclothed head and surveying the land, Ardy realized he had no idea where he could be. Ardy babbled. He sobbed dramatically, and demanded several things to no one in particular (or perhaps the bush). A long span of time passed. Maybe even a whole minute passed, and Ardy glanced upwards and found a blade poking his throat.
A menacing group of various odd-looking folks stood around him, wearing light metal and leather armor stained charcoal black. They seemed to be equipped for fast travel. The bald man with a jutty chin, the one with the nasty sword at Ardy’s throat, spoke first. “You know the deal, half-elf. Coin and valuables. Pay up.” He held out a calloused hand. Half elf?
“Heyo! Take a breather there, fellas.” The scrawny earthling scuttled to his feet and backed into a thick tree. “We could, like, talk about this.” An orc with a menacing great axe, probably the second in command, snorted. “No negotiations! Give or die!” Ardy was hoping he would say that. In his mind he imagined a singular wave of nuclear power resonating through the wood and wasting the whole bunch of them. “Meet yur makers, dirt clods!” Breathing quickly through his nostrils and shutting his eyes, the thin man positioned his feet, bunched up his arms, and stabbed deftly with his hands towards the band of thugs.
Ardy exhaled. For a few heartbeats, silence. Then, guttural laughter. Ardy opened his eyes to a crew of chortling, unharmed muggers. “What in Bahamut was that?” And like nothing happened, the bald man held out his rugged hand again. “I’m gonna be real with you dudes. I have, like, no cash.” Surprisingly, the bald man grinned. “No pay, eh? Then we play.” Ardy turned another shade paler. Two thick men grabbed Ardy and began to tie him to the tree. Between hyperventilating and endless threats, Ardy picked up something the orc was saying to bald man. “Sir, what of Rellin and the boy? We’re just letting them get away?” Ardy felt knot tie taut on his bindings. The bald man grunted, “I already know where they’re going. I interrogated the keeper of the inn they stayed at a few days ago. They’re heading for the last ship to Nexur. If we run hard tomorrow, we’ll get there before the traitor and the devil boy do.” Nexur didn’t sound familiar to Ardy. The brute then turned to Ardy. “Playtime!”
The ugly orc stuck an old apple in Ardy’s mouth as the bald bandit took ten or eleven paces away from the tree, drawing a light crossbow. “First shot gents, just watch.” Ardy struggled against his bristly rope bindings. Again, he tried to use his nuclear powers. Nothing happened. The apple tasted bitter in his mouth. His breathing hastened through his nostrils. Then something odd happened. The rope tightened around Ardy’s arms. The apple dropped out of his mouth. Ardy’s head swam, and time began to slow. He glanced weakly at the bandits and saw that none of them were jeering or laughing any more. Even Old Baldy was speechless. His crossbow hung loosly at his side. Ardy tried to ask what was going on, but the words couldn’t come to him. And just as instantly as everything slowed down, everything sped up in a snap. Then Ardy felt this trippy separation from his body. He felt numb as he stood up, and began to charge the bandits. Wait, he was charging the bandits? Then his vision became ringed with red, and Ardy saw pummeling, smashing, and crushing. For a short instant, amidst the blood roaring in his ears, he heard screaming, and saw a monstrous, hairy, black hand wrench the great axe from the bulky orc’s hands, and deftly chop him down with it. Then another humungous hand came into view, holding a five-foot-long steel sword. Together, with axe and sword, a small pack of fearful bandits was cut down in one synchronized sweep.
When Ardy regained control of his body, he found himself pinning down the bald bandit leader, which didn’t seem quite right, considering he was twice Ardy’s size. “Wait, bruh, what happened?” the ex-Dictator demanded heroically. Between shaky breaths, the pinned criminal stuttered, “My grandmother was a Druid, you know. I never saw her take that kind of shape before…” the bandit paused for breath and licked his sweaty lips. Behind him, Ardy noticed three bandits splayed out on the dirt. They weren’t breathing. Ardy then realized he didn’t need to hold the bald man; he either couldn’t move, or was too afraid to. “You have a primal force in you I’ve never seen, half-elf. I could sense it in you just like I could in my grandmother, but not this strongly. I should’ve known….I should’ve known…” small tears sprung from the grown man’s eyes. Ardy yelled at him, “Whaddya mean?! I didn’t DO anything! I just kinda sat there and waited for you to bust a cap in my gob, and I stood up! I didn’t do any of this stuff!” He rotated around and counted three, four more bandits on the ground. “Now where on Earth am I?” he asked the leader. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re in uncharted woods. Civilization is eastwards. But why are asking me all this? Stop messing with me and end it.” He heard the bandit say between his teeth. Ardy whipped around. “What, killya? I don’t have my nuclear organs anymore, so I can’t, dude. If ya can’t tell me where we are, go home. Or better yet, turn yurself in. They have cable in prison, bro, and that’s not just a rumor.”
So the scumbag was turned loose, and Ardy wandered through the woods, walking away from the westward sinking sun. This continues for a few days and nights, walking east as the bald man told him. He slept on the ground against a tree every night, which didn’t seem to regenerate his energy at all. Hunger wasn’t a problem, though. Every time Ardy woke up in the morning, he found his stomach full. Finding water was an issue, though. After a few days without it, Ardy found a small gurgling stream and drank deeply. Glancing at his reflection, he found everything was normal about him; thin, pale face, black dreadlocks, and grey-blue eyes. The one thing that made him jump was his pointed ears. He touched them gingerly, and fresh water shot from his nostrils. “I should have kept up my World of Warcraft subscription,” Ardy mumbled as he trudged on east. One evening, a mountain lion paced its way towards Ardy’s temporary sleeping spot under a tree. Ardy had decided he would lay low and make sure he wasn’t found. A tugging sensation throbbed in his gut, and from somewhere nearby a threatened, raspy growl emitted. Much to his surprise, the cougar took one wary look at him and bolted off. It was only after the beast was out of sight that Ardy realized it was he that growled.
It was on the fifth day he spotted the first sign of civilization. A bar, it seemed, with a picture of a horse on a hanging wooden sign. Below it in faded letters it read, ‘The Drunk Stallion’ and below that were a bunch of faded markings. Ardy stumbled in. “Hey, whichever kahuna’s in charge, I wanna drankie and a roast beef sandwich.” He sat down on a wooden stool and didn’t bother to look around. The only thing on his mind was some fresh-cooked food. A red-faced man behind the bar seemed to have heard him and walked into a back room. “Hold up…why aren’t you a robot?” Ardy yelled back to him. No response. The owner probably couldn’t afford androids. Several minutes later, the bartender returned with a fat sandwich and a tall glass of orange-tinged liquid that bubbled. Ardy downed the sandwich and drink instantly. “ANOTHER!” Ardy cried, and the bartender’s face bunched up. He stuck a crooked knife in the wood of the bar and grumbled, “Pay for your first one. You do have coin, don’t you?” Just as Ardy was about to respond, a penguin waddled up to the two of them, stared blankly at Ardy, and slapped two small coins onto the bar. “Quack,” he said. “A bird of few words, I see. You gonna pay for my food, bro?” The penguin did the closest thing to a nod he was probably capable of.
The eating and drinking went on all night. The penguin was a good listener, and Ardy told him all about what had happened to him in the forest. The penguin agreed to show him where the next boat to the Mainland was the next morning. The penguin slept in one of the upper rooms of the bar usually, and Ardy attempted to mooch off him a few more coins for room and board for one night, but something about the way the bird gestured at him with his woodwind instrument told him he was sleeping in the woods tonight.
Ardy awoke to shifting shadows in the afternoon sunshine. There was a cloaked figure standing over him! “Hey, watch it, ya loon! Personal space, dude.” The figure didn’t respond for a few moments. Then they spoke with a dark yet melodious tone: “Careful, Ardy. Druid blood is worth some hefty coin around here.” Ardy stood up. “Bro, how do you know my name? And why’d you call me ‘droodoo’? Like, what’s that even mean?” he turned, and Ardy saw a flash of yellow eyes under the dark hood. “I saw you crush that party of Black Wolves as a silverback gorilla. And I’ve observed you change shape every night when the moon rises and hunt. It seems you lack control over your powers for the moment, but I suppose your true destiny can be put on hold for a few months.” A cluster of questions spilled of Ardy at once. “I’ve been doing what? A big monkey? Every night?”
The figure removed his hood. His face was dark red and scaly, with a human face and ebony horns pushing out of his forehead. “My name is Kuryin. I did this to you.” And with that, a cold, black portal opened in the ground. Kuryin leapt in without another sidelong glance. “Wait up, ya jerk-wad! Take me back to Earth!” Ardy dropped in to the portal, and awoke in a barrel of fish even further from home.