Plain Loopy

Dale Osborne

Description

The second and concluding book of the chaotic adventures that began with The Quest. The Warlock Netherspoon, and the Immortal Sid, find themselves trapped in the alternate world of Tharin. To their surprise, it is far more advanced than their own world. In this universe, the T'carthian Druids have conquered most of the planet and a race begins to track down Netherspoon's alternate self, the only man who may be able to help them get home.With the aid of the D.A.T.O (Dwarves against T'carthian oppression) and the S.A.S (short and stealthy) the two begin their long journey. Emperor Vorden, despotic leader of the T'carthian Empire, unleashes his secret weapon, the THX 13 (the Verminator). A terrifying humanoid robot that is sent to destroy all rebellious elements within the empire, along with a few choice nuclear missile strikes for good measure. Overseeing this project is the dreaded Eric Von Lederhosen, head of the much feared Testapo, the man they simply call - the iron fist in the iron glove inside a tank surrounded by a herd of angry rhinoceroses. The answer is simple, Netherspoon must go forward in his time, which is in the past in the alternate universe, change history that has yet to happen and save two universes from utter destruction. Confused? Wait till you read the book!

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 10 juin 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783330669
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
PLAIN LOOPY
by
Dale Osborn
and
Cavin Wright



Publisher Information
Published in 2013 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
The right of the authors to be identified as the Authors of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998
Copyright © 2013 Dale Osborn and Cavin Wright
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.



Introduction
. . . And in a moment, lost in time,
It’s very clear for all to see,
Devoid of reason; lacking rhyme,
All things have changed, conclusively.
No longer ancient confort zone,
The olde ways no more manifest;
For lo! A new world-order grown,
Where profile kept real low is best.
For as the warlock Netherspoon,
Proved most astute to mention;
“We’ve crossed the parallel! We’ll soon,
Be focussing their attention!”
A universe, superior,
With lords T’carthian at its helm,
Revolt from its interior,
Now threatening to overwhelm . . .
Into this back-to-front impasse,
Our heroes tossed; the fray unto,
With weapons of much lesser class.
But lo! The warlock - brave and true . . .



Chapter One
Netherspoon stared inanely at the reception area in the alternate-universe T’carthian temple. Perhaps it was the CCTV cameras, or maybe the small switchboard behind the receptionist, or even the automatic doors, that told him things in this universe were a little more advanced than his own.
“Good grief,” hissed Sid, peering out from behind the surprised warlock. “It’s a bit different to our Tharin, isn’t it?”
“That,” managed Netherspoon, “is something of an understatement.”
It was at that moment the receptionist caught sight of them. “Excuse me!” she announced. “Do you have an appointment?”
The warlock was somewhat relieved that the language was not reversed like the signs. “We . . . err . . . well, I, err . . . no! Actually, we appear to be lost; we’re looking for the nearest . . . ummm . . . supermarket?”
The receptionist gave them an odd look. It wasn’t unusual for weirdoes to wander in off the street, and judging by the way these two were dressed they definitely appeared to have escaped from somewhere. “Out of the door, turn left; there’s one down the end of the road,” she informed them, as her hand hovered above the panic button, just beneath desktop level.
Grabbing hold of Sid, Netherspoon made for the door. “Thank you very much, miss,” he called over his shoulder.
“Why do we want a supermarket?” queried Sid, as the warlock propelled him out of the building.
“We don’t,” replied Netherspoon. “It was just an excuse.” He stopped suddenly, and looked down. “Good grief!” he exclaimed loudly. “We’re standing on a pavement.”
Sid gave him a quizzical look. “And?” he prompted.
“If this is a pavement,” he continued, “then that black thing next to it, with the white broken lines has to be a road!” He looked up and stared in disbelief at several large metal objects parked in a line. Pointing a shaky finger in their direction, he opened his mouth. “Cars!” he managed. “They have cars here!”
The doors behind them slid open and an officious-looking security guard stepped out. “Right you two!” he growled. “If you’re with that lot at the gate, you can shove off right now! This is private property, so unless you have an appointment, get lost!”
Netherspoon stared at the man in the crisp blue uniform - or more to the point, at what he very quickly recognised as a semi-automatic machine-pistol he held. “Which direction is the gate?” he asked swiftly, and in a tone he hoped sounded polite.
The guard pointed with his free hand. “End of this road. Now scram, the pair of you!”
Netherspoon needed no further encouragement, and with Sid in tow, he started walking briskly in the direction indicated. Once they reached the entrance, a CCTV camera picked them up, and the electronic gates swung open.
The scene outside came as another shock. A small band of dwarves were marching up and down with placards proclaiming slogans such as - Equality for Dwarfs and Brothers of the soil: Unite against tyranny.
A dwarf with an enormous black beard noted their exit with interest. “Look brothers! Two more of the human oppressors, come to taunt us. What do we say?”
There was a chorus of, “Down with the fascist regime! Down with the T’carthian oppressors!”
The warlock held up his hands in surrender. “My friend and I are not T’carthian!” he stated adamantly. “I have nothing whatsoever against dwarves!”
Blackbeard frowned. “You’re not just saying that, so we won’t harass you, are you?”
Netherspoon shook his head. “We’re strangers here. We’ve only just arrived, and everything here is a bit of a shock.”
“Then what are you doing coming out of the T’carthian Embassy?” demanded the dwarf. “You’re a couple of spies, that’s what you are, sent out here to incite feelings of resentment, and stir up the brothers to take physical action, so you can call in the militia, and have us all thrown into gaol. We are exercising our right to peaceful protest, and refuse to be goaded.”
“Well said, brother,” announced another dwarf. “It’s high time we showed these T’carthian authoritarians we are a force to be reckoned with!”
“A peaceful and non-aggressive force to be reckoned with, brother,” added the black-bearded dwarf.
“We are not spies,” protested the warlock. “My name is Netherspoon, and this is Sid.”
“Don’t sound like T’carthian names,” muttered a dwarf at the back.
“Don’t have to be their real names, brother,” argued Blackbeard. “Could just be some cunning T’carthian ploy, to lull us into thinking they’re not T’carthian’s, when all along they really are, and they’ve come to stir things up!”
Good point, brother Nerx,” agreed the other. “I hadn’t thought of that one.”
“That’s why I’m the official spokesman for the D.A.T.O and you’re not, Feneg.”
“Point duly noted, brother Nerx,” replied Feneg.
“Well I vote we peacefully, and non-violently, take them prisoner, and turn them over to the D.L.A for interrogation,” suggested a dwarf with a smaller black beard.
“Oh well done Grimp!” groaned Nerx. “Why not announce to two T’carthian spies that we have an affiliation with an illegal terrorist movement?”
“That’s alleged affiliation, brother Nerx. At no point did I actually admit to knowing a person, or persons, within the Dwarf Liberation Army. I merely pointed out a feasible option for our assembled concourse to follow.”
“I see your point brother Grimp,” returned Nerx, “and for the sake of avoiding any further discourse amongst our ranks, I put forward the motion that you shut up, before I give you a non-aggressive fat lip.”
“Well if that’s the way you want it brother Nerx, I put it to the vote that you might want to bring along some friends - that is, of course, if you have any!”
“Look!” stormed Feneg, “This is just playing into the hands of the socially despotic exploitive masses. They are causing dissention amongst us, and it’s only half past ten! Unity brothers, I urge we put aside personal feelings and stand together in championing the cause of downtrodden dwarves everywhere!”
“Concisely put, brother Feneg,” allowed Nerx. “I extend my sincere apologies to brother Grimp, and hereby retract my earlier statement.”
“I also would like to state, for the record,” put in Grimp, “that I also apologise to brother Nerx, and regret any displeasure he may have felt.”
Netherspoon was looking at Sid, and Sid was looking at Netherspoon. It was becoming blatantly clear that whilst this universe was physically the same as theirs, that was about where the similarity ended.
“We’ve been here ten minutes, and they haven’t tried to kill anyone yet,” marvelled Sid. “Six dwarves on our Tharin would constitute a war party.”
Netherspoon nodded. “Things here are very different to the Tharin we know. But I think we had better get used to it - we may be here for some time. In fact, in your case, being an immortal, it could be forever!”
“So then,” Nerx was speaking again, “if you’re not spies, what are you doing here?”
“It’s a very long story . . .” began the warlock.
“We come from . . .” Sid started to explain.
“We’re travelling salesmen,” interrupted Netherspoon, before Sid could finish. “We’re in the insurance game. Just trying to make a living, you know how it is?”
“Where you from, then?” enquired Nerx.
“Extralia,” lied Netherspoon, hoping Extralia actually existed in this version of Tharin.
Nerx whistled. “Long way from home, then? The Empire doesn’t even stretch that far. Come here to sell insurance to the T’carthian’s, did you? Take my advice and get on the next flight home.”
“There’s one small problem with that,” answered the warlock. “We have run out of money.”
“Oh dear, you are in trouble! Better make sure you have your papers and passes handy. If the militia catch you with no money, you’ll be charged with vagrancy and sent to the labour camp. Why don’t you contact your firm, get them to transfer you some money?”
“They went bankrupt whilst we were here,” returned the warlock convincingly. “So you see our problem? We also seem to have lost our papers.”
Nerx stared hard at them. “Lost your papers!” he echoed in a shocked tone. “What, all of them?”