FAT49 #5 - Flockboast City

Tall Wall. Those are the two most common words found on postcards sent to loved ones from by people visiting Flockboast City. Formed from the red brick of Nose Island, the wall stands higher than even the most aerodynamically sound catapults could chuck. None enter Flockboast but by the gates (one of which is currently unguarded). The city was an inevitability. The two main roads of Head Island: The Great Western Road and The Eyebrow Road meet at its nucleus. Originally, the land was a small fishing town where squid was ever on the menu. After some entrepreneurial traders with a vision arrived the fate of that sleepy town would change forever, and a good thing too as they were getting rather tired of squid. The large trading market that sprouted there was known as The Flock. This was not due to the fact that droves of people flocked there from the forests, deserts, mountains and wherever else the author plans to foreshadow. Nay, it got its name from a flock of reticent ducks that frequented the place. As time passed the market grew to a port city and ultimately the trading capital of the Gnome Archipelago it was decided to change the name of the place. Maximillions Doshforthewin, the leader of The Flock at the time, decided to pay homage to the city's humble cephalopod harvesting origins by renaming the place Flockboats. A well-meaning but dyslecix scribe wrote it down as Flockboast. Fortunately, there were more than enough people prone to over-anaylsing who could extract meaning from a hollow name like an untrained nurse extracts blood, in larger amounts than is comfortable. Doshforthewin was venerated and is responsible for a long-weekend. Cheers to him!

Peddlers of everything imaginable littered the streets and posters advertising everything imaginable covered the walls. Tonics, potions and brews for any illness, ailment or desire. Food from all corners of the Gnome Arhipelago ranging from tastes too subtle for the human tongue to tastes so rich they owned their own super yacht. Clothes chic and clothes shocking. but nonetheless suiting to all fashions. Books, tomes and grimoires and other such papyrus products that chronicled the most mundane facts and fantastic fables. The one thing the many traders had in common was the desperate look in their eyes, the look of one in dire need of some currency.

FAT49 entered the busy street from the south entrance and were immediately accosted by zealous traders. They wordlessly decided to split up and search for clues pertaining to Valiant's location. Felix hopped on the shoulder of Beardface the Brash who was quickly tailed by Jean the Youthful.
"What foul cesspit is this place! Back you savages!" Beardface yelled as he palmed off an approaching trader. "You haven't been here before, Beardface? I first came her as a stowaway aboard the wagon of a troupe of travelling musicians." Felix said. "I know of some friends that could aid us in our quest." Jean said nothing. The sheer colour and vibrancy of everything was hypnotising her. Beardface slipped the scarf around her neck over her left ear. Jean blinked and snapped out of her trance immediately. She followed after Beardface and Felix.

Note: Desert Dwellers of Northern Head Island all (usually) wear their own personal headscarf. In the sand storm prone deserts of the North they are invaluable. When the desert dwellers feel safe and comfortable or are in the presence of trusted or loved ones they remove their scarves and let them lie on their necks. However, if they feel nervous or threatened they will only partly remove the scarf leaving one ear covered. This allows them to resist temptation and dispel illusion by reminding them of the bare truth of their homeland and the cruel mirages that claimed the lives of their pioneering ancestors. The magix of these scarves has never been successfully studied by PSAM.

The path of a cat is its own. By that I mean it is not easy for anything but a cat to go where cats go. Nevertheless, Beardface and Jean squeezed, squished and squirmed thru the tight trail Felix led.
"Is there no less treacherous path?" Beardface cried as a branch kissed him in the face.
"It's just around the next bend!" Felix said for the fourth time, twelve final bends after the original final bend. But, like all incessantly repeated lies they eventually become the truth. Felix stood in front of a dilapidated building and then walked toward it.

Elsewhere, Dali the Impressive exited the crashing waves of the nearby beach, a recently caught squid in hand, and wondered where everyone had gone.

FAT49 #4 - The Entrance Wizard

Felix and the 49 bade farewell to Llywelyn the land whale at the south entrance to Flockboast. The ride was surprisingly comfortable but Llywelyn had been rather talkative. Being verbally spent he stomped off and fell asleep under a nearby evergreen tree with large sinewy roots that looked like slumbering snakes. Felix could make out the sea not far from the western side of the road. He breathed in the salty air. Jean sat next to him and commented poetically on the beauty of it all. Dali the Impressive had already stripped and was bolting toward the crashing waves. Alas, they couldn't admire the splendid vista for long as angry yells at the entrance begged their attention.

"You shalln't pass!" bellowed a wizard in a red robe and hat in a way that was almost cliché.
"But, I have wares to sell!" retorted an angry trader.
"How will these wares benefit Flockboast?"
"Cauliflower is an important part of anyone's diet." the trader said holding up a cauliflower to prove his point.
"Not important to me!" said the wizard, "Now leave!"
"Come on, I have a wife and kids."
"We've all got problems. Now begone!" The cauliflower trader was adamant and tried to push past the wizard. He had gone too far. The wizard spoke his incantation and with a soft 'fwump' the trader collapsed to the floor as a cauliflower.
"Now, what do you have to offer that will benefit the city?" the wizard said with a cold nonchalance that exuded a lack of remorse or possibly boredom.

Wizards are a bit strange but at the same time fairly commonplace on the Gnome Archipelago. Anyone can become a wizard (if their marks are good enough). Being accepted at The Prestigious School of Assorted Magix (PSAM) on Hat Island is an honour, or so they say. Benefits include: meeting like-minded wizards; getting wizard discounts and if you're lucky enough the cream of the crop may get a half decent job. The Prestigious School of Assorted Magix has many faculties that will go unnamed until the author can think of some. Like all wizards, this one has blue skin, a result of extended exposure to Hat Island's cold environment. This particular wizard, Harold, has a degree in Applied Transformation Magix with a major in Ice Block Manipulation. Unfortunately, his thesis on changing water into ice, wasn't well received by his colleagues on Hat Island, a place perpetually covered in snow heavy enough to cling to the thickest thickets, was never published. Moreover, if you thought that sentence was clunky you should have read his thesis. Somehow, Harold had landed a job as an entrance wizard at Flockboast City's South Entrance. The pay wasn't great but he did get to practise his art. "Forget all this wizard nonsense and inherit the business!" His father the foul fowl trader had said. These words repeatedly reverberated thru his skull resulting in a perpetually poor mood and consistent contempt for all types of traders.

"Excuse me, wizard. May we enter?" Felix asked politely.

"What? Who said that?" Squawked Harold.

"Down here. I am Felix. I have come with..."

"Gah!" The wizard interrupted. "A talking cat!"

Harold recalled at that moment a line in his textbook. "Felines with the ability to speak are cursed"
(Hecate, WA 34).

In an instinctual flurry he unleashed a bolt of Magix at Felix. There was a flash and a soft 'fwump' as Harold fell to the floor. No longer a wizard but a bowtie.

Harold the bowtie disdained as he remembered the next line of that transcription. "...and you should never use your Magix against them."(Hecate, WA 34).

Felix picked up the bowtie (Harold). "That would look good on you." Jacques the Scarred said eyeing it thoughtfully. Felix nodded his agreement, attached the defeated bowtie and entered thru the unguarded doors to Flockboast and the end of the chapter.

A lone cauliflower sighed...

Bibliography
Hecate, (WA 34). Introduction to Magix. 17th ed. Hat Island: Prestigious School of Assorted Magix, p.394.

WA 34: Weapon Age Year 34

FAT49 #3 - On the Road to Flockboast City

The problem with travelling in large groups is organising transport. Seriously. After multiple failed attempts to hire carriage drivers, chariots, a dirigible and an above average sized elephant they decided to walk. They traipsed in a single file line, led by Felix of course, toward Flockboast city.

The journey to Flockboast was mostly uneventful. A group of fish-wielding bandits attempted to mug them but the not-to-be-reckoned-with masters soon put them in their plaice.  The path was busy. Flockboast was the trading capital of the Gnome Archipelago. The city was crowded with people, too many to fit within its huge walls. Large satellite settlements had developed outside the city and the people flocked into work everyday. Traffic was terrible at the best of times. Felix and the 49 found themselves moving at a snail's pace. Literally. One of the traders had a giant snail (although slow they are reliable goods transporters, salt products not included). It should be noted that although the masters are tough and ready for a fight they are polite. They won't simply use their power to sweep aside people that irritate them, unless they racketeer.

All was peaceful and calm when suddenly something went wrong. A thundering sound erupted from the trees of the forest that grew on the east side of the road. A hulking creature, probably large enough to fit roughly 49 people give or take a cat, walked right thru the well-trodden path squishing several bystanders in the process and making it even more well-trodden.
"A land-whale!" Bellowed an excited trader.
"I know!" said one of the recently squished traders.
"That beauty could carry my wares anywhere!" said another whose snail was deeply offended.
They were too slow. Felix's eyes had flashed at the sight of the land-whale and he leaped after it. There was a wake of crushed debris behind it which Felix jumped over effortlessly. He finally managed to catch up with it after hopping over a small decidious tree that somersaulted clumsily passed.
"My friend! Might I have a word with you?" Felix called. The land-whale turned his mighty head and slowed his pace.
"Ah yee. What is it mate?" said the land-whale.

Llywelyn the land-whale (centre).

"I was wondering if you might aid us in our quest. We are in search of Valiant the Aforementioned."
"Cool-as, mate. So, what you need me for, ey?"
"My friend, your body is truly mighty. My comrades and I are many and the path is long and slow. I would be grateful if you would give us a lift to Flockboast city."
"Ah, you wanna go to Flockboast, ey? Nasty place, nasty people there."
"We know but our quest is important to us. We will not be perturbed."
"So what's in it for me?" the land-whale asked. Damn! Felix and his fellows had only been on the quest for such a short time. They hadn't yet picked up any useful items to trade. Felix decided there was only one thing he could do: Break the fourth wall.
"We'll make this week's pixel pic of you." Felix said hopefully.
"Done! But, make it look like I'm on a beach paradise!" The land-whale said.

The author (and pixel pic creator) tuts disapprovingly at this flagrant use of his friendly temperament. He considers killing off one of his characters in a coming chapter. He looks at the clock and decides its about time to post on his blog. He considers finishing his essay due on Monday. He ponders the movie he just watched. With embarrassment he realises he is writing down his thoughts on his blog instead of his daily journal. He decides this joke has gone on long enough and decides to post before he loses either of his viewers.

Llywelyn the land-whale's Theme:
Someone's Rocking My Dreamboat - The Ink Spots (1942)

FAT49 #2 - Oh Valiant, where you at?

Valiant the Aforementioned was the greatest hero of an era. He slew the foulest monstrosity that would be seen in the land for decades to come. The people loved him, saluted him, cheered him, revered him but most of all aggrieved him. You see, they were impressed by his actions but their gratitude soon became expectation. The pressure and demands of the people grew too great. They relied too heavily upon him, like a friend who refuses to get a driver's license and continually bums lifts from you. So, Valiant abandoned his role as super turbo fantastic saviour of the world and vanished. No one had seen him in years. However, Felix and the 49 would not be perturbed by such obstacles as ignorance. Nay, they would tread ever forward until they found him. But, dedication aside, they had to consider their options before blindly going into the unknown. So, they held a meeting, taking out a trusty map of their land. The Gnome Archipelago.

"I say we head to the west coast." said Thomas the Glass-Eyed.
"I disagree. Valiant wouldn't head there if he wanted solitude. It has the most people." said Siphokazi the Sharp.
"He would surely seek out the forests." said Anisha the Sickle-Wielder.
"That's insane! He would go to the Beard Island past the mountains and seek out the solitary isles. I'll bet he went to find the legendary perfect island?" said Jack the Tipper.
"You have all neglected the deserts of the north. If Valiant truly wanted to be alone, that would be his destination." said Jacques the Scarred.
"Perhaps, he's laying low on Nose Island. He could be hiding away in one of the abandoned buildings there." said Matthew the Hand.
"Here's a question! Which island has the least people? Hat island, its obvious..." Phtephen the Thrifty was saying before he was interrupted by Dojima the Silver.
"He wouldn't go to Hat island unless he wanted an icy tomb."
"This is pointless! We've reasons for and against every option!" grumbled Beardface the Brash. "We must let Felix decide." The 49 looked to Felix. He sat at the head of the table with his furry back facing them.
"Felix! What would you have us do?" Felix did not respond. He continued to stare at the moon for about 13 more seconds before turning to them. "We must know where we are going, otherwise, we will wander for an eternity."
"If that's what it takes..." David the Snake said in a voice that rustled like stones falling down a mountain.
"I say that we seek information. We go to the last place he was seen." Felix said.
"It would be a logical choice." said Siphokazi the Sharp.
"The moon suggested it actually. We will go to the largest and foulest city in our land... a place ruled by villainous scum."
"You can't mean... but that's insane!" Jack the Tipper exclaimed.
"Yes. Our first destination," Felix's eyes glistened in the luminescent lunar light "...is Flockboast City."

Several hours later when they had all gone off to bed Jean the Youthful couldn't sleep. She turned to Dali the Impressive.
"Hey. If Felix can speak to the moon why doesn't he just ask it where Valiant is?"
"Huh? Oh, Jean. You're so young."

FAT49 #1 - The Second Unanimous Decision

The masters in search of Valiant the Aforementioned were many. They came from all lands, spoke in all tongues, dressed differently, ate a variety of dishes, and all had different understandings of the world and what was important. However, what they all had in common was that they were all human. So, they wondered, how could Felix (not a human) be their master?

"It's unthinkable. How could a cat lead? You'd sooner see a mountain bleed." Some said.

"Rosebush has never been wrong and she has spoken. To doubt her you would have to be a token." Some would respond. 

"But he's just a cat! What is your answer to that?" Some would respond to the response. It was Beardface the Brash who interrupted this poor rhyming. "Whether he be a cat, a moose or a forest spirit it matters not. He bested me. Me! I have never suffered defeat before now and Felix wiped the floor with me like a mop. He hung me out to dry like a damp towel. He scrubbed me like a dirty rag. He..." Beardface continued with these domestic metaphors for some time.

"Enough!" Felix said finally, "Beardface, though your metaphors are terrible I appreciate your intention. I must prove my worth to the other masters. Would everyone that doubts my legitimacy raise your hand?" One by one the doubters raised their predominantly right hands. Felix gazed over the crowd of people and took a deep breath. "Then I shall have to persuade you." He said eyes flashing.

They came with cutlasses and clubs, scimitars and swords, hammers and halberds, dagons and daggers. The greatest and mightiest of them did their damnedest to strike him but his alacrity was electric. He dodged, evaded, feinted, avoided, slid, slipped and not a single master touched him. He was ridiculously lucky. Felix, you see, had spent his whole life being sneaky and evasive. He would steal a sausage and dodge the cleaver's knife. To him these weapons were no different, it was just another trip to the butcher. Also he had triple plated plot armour. Fast paced seconds turned into palpitating minutes which turned into dreary hours which turned into tiring days until finally they were all collapsed from exhaustion. Felix had not delivered a single blow and yet he had bested every master. It was made clear that cardio was of great import.

Felix looked over the prostrate crowd, raised his paw and asked the question. "Will you accept me as the 50th master?" The decision was unanimous, at least from those that were still conscious.