Princess Children Fighters
My task protecting the princess as she journeys to her home seems to be nigh over. The ethereal morning daylight reveals us in a gently rolling glade of bright green ankle high grass. The air is crisp and cool. Forest surrounds, a couple hundred yards away on either side, this secluded spot. The normal surroundings have one glaring anomaly. A hole in the air with rippling energy dancing around its borders. It is a perfect circular hole about 2 meters across suspended half a meter from the ground. The doorway is hazy preventing one from seeing what exactly is through this dimensional tear. Before entering the princess informs me to very carefully do everything she says. The rules in her home are too many to relate right now. Just follow her lead because I do not want to know the type of consequences not following the rules hold in her realm. Agreeing we both dart through the mystical portal.
Arriving I immediately notice the sharp stench of brimstone. We stand on a sooty mountain surrounded by bubbling and spitting lava. Occasionally tall columns of fire leap out of the lake of lava climbing surprisingly high into the sky. The rare crackling thunderclap of these devil's fingers stroking the sky obliterates all other sound for the moment of their existence. Soot covers the sky leaving the lava as a dark orange illumination from the bottom up. This must be hell. An elevated sidewalk, held up by pillars stretching down into the lava, leads away from the mountain to a convoluted elevated town. Everything is supported by twisted dark stone pillars. The heat causes all my skin to bead with sweat. Wiping my brow I follow the princess into the town.
In between the fire thunderclaps she explains her situation in her home dimension as we journey through the hell realm towards the palace, her home. Her brother is twisted and evil. Being the next in line, with only a senile father who is incapable of exerting any control over him, he gets whatever he wants. His dementia has had many evil and disastrous results. She had run away because his latest obsession had him wanting to marry her his own sister. Forced now to return she must somehow avert his horrible wishes. To undermine her side even more women have no rights in this land. Living at worse as pets up to as good as having their opinions tolerated but never seriously entertained.
We enter the palace without incident. As we recline and feast after the journey in a private chamber her brother hearing word of her return comes to apprehend her. All thoughts of plans or reasoning is gone as the guards immediately seek to grab her. She fights like a wildcat and I quickly join in her rebellion against the guards. Disposing of the first several guards who enter the room we are soon overwhelmed by a seemingly endless supply of them.
For my traitorous acts against the rightful authority of the realm I am to be tortured. I am placed in the car seat of a deadly roller coaster. At the end there is a large clown face through which the cart goes through. Inside this devilish clowns mouth are whirling knives and spinning giant band saws. Clearly I am about to minced and diced beyond any reasonable thought of survival. The cart jolts into action. I put my head down and close my eyes for the entirety of the roller coaster ride of death. Surprisingly the ride ends with a halt and I have survived. I do not question my good fortune.
. . .
We are a cadre of children kept away from the softening society which we are being trained to protect. Our martial training for the day is over and it is time to sleep. I have a deck of cards secreted about my sleeping garments. Armed thusly I escape from our compound to the town under cover of night. Living so stringent a life has left my thirsty for the delights of common people.
Walking through the town the first thought is how poor and badly kept the place is. Thin boards with gaps make up the majority of walls for the shanties that abound. Ruffians lounge about and diseased prostitutes walk among them soliciting. To make matters worse no one seems to be speaking English. Definitely out of my element and finding all the offered pleasures seedy I quickly grow weary of the town. Returning home through the compound's gates I meet 3 or 4 of my peers sneaking out with the same ideas I had. I quickly disillusion of them of their fun seeking.
Persuaded we all walk back towards where we are supposed to be sleeping. At the side of the place we currently call home there is an elevated wooden deck. The other children are just beginning to awake here with the creeping early rays of sunshine proclaiming the beginning of sunrise. The many meter elevation of the deck along with the small amount of time before we are discovered are our main obstacles. We are currently at the same height as the deck but we are at the corner of the house. At this corner of the house the grassy lawn ends and slopes downwards into a dirt grotto for many meters towards the deck. Too far to jump from the ledge we stand at and the deck to high to jump to from its dirt foundation. Finding a ledge along the house starting where we are and running to the deck should be manageable. Reaching up and gripping one with the tips of my fingers I find the ledge icy cold. Enduring the searing cold I slowly inch towards the deck. I work carefully to avoid the bits of glass scattered randomly among the icy ledge. Making it across the ledge to the deck the rest soon follow. Moments after we are all among the other children as if we had spent all night there, the adults arrive to check on us. Our brief escape goes unnoticed.
We are a group of child fighters training to one day go out and make the world a better place. Currently engaged on a training patrol along a two lane cement road cut into a mountain slope covered by a thick forest the eldest of us is running scout. Encountering a stopped flatbed truck he ducks down to hide underneath the flatbed. Just as he gets a grip on one of the rungs running along the bottom of the flatbed the truck starts up and drives away. Pulling himself further underneath via the horizontal ladder rungs he is surprised to hear a beeping just a little further forward of where he is. Pulling himself forward he discovers a small black box secured to the bottom of the flatbed. Observing it he sees the green blinking light go out to be replaced by a formerly dead light start blinking red. Seeing this he suddenly becomes afraid and drops from the rungs to the cement flying by beneath him. As soon as the last pair of tires passes him he rolls to the side of the road. Before he can regain himself enough to attempt to stand the speeding truck, now a couple hundred yards in the distance, explodes with a tremendous fireball.
After a couple of the squad check that the leader is unharmed we gather him up to investigate the wreckage. Several jump into the open tank of water which the flat bed was carrying. Swimming about and enjoying the water they leave the exterior exploration up to the rest of us. The oppressive sun along with the dank wet air of the surrounding forest is now much more noticeable as we are not zoned in on our patrol. The leader regaining his full senses directs most of us to fan out into the jungle and set up a perimeter. Soon however the investigation yielding no fruit is given up and we all return home.
Resting from our days training outside the house we enjoy the cooler air of the evening. A large muscle bound guy and his two slightly smaller but still imposing friends come to the perimeter fence to challenge us. They have the scarred and tattooed look of ruffians from the village. They must be either the bosses of the village or seeking to make a reputation among the village by challenging us. Though since our elite training is supposed to be secret it is anyones guess how they found out about us. The teacher accepts and directs one of the taller children and two others to meet the mens challenge. Their boar like rushes are soon defeated by lightning quick punches and kicks. The men after a couple of minutes wagging their heads trying to shake off their defeat leave in amazement.
Full of ourselves for such one sided defeats we pour outside the compound into the village and proceed to fight the rest of the ruffians. We are too quick and agile for the lazy muscles of the brutes to make a difference. We take many captives which we continue to assail. The captives grow very belligerent for our technique is too good for them to stand a chance against. Despite them not resisting or instigating we punch them and they begin to complain about being punched for no reason.
Our home, our compound, is a large pleasant affair. Surrounded by a high gated fence most of the compound is a grassy lawn. In the middle of this half an acre our large house stands like a jewel. Marble columns, pale white adobe walls, and tall glinting windows make it seem a small palace. Inside thick white carpet covers all the floors. The dominating centerpiece of the living room is a large circular marble table. On it sits an ornate marble sword. The only light comes from the stars and quarter moon. Night time has brought an eerie calm to the entire compound. No crickets or locusts chirp. Everything is still and silent. Asleep we are scattered about the living room enjoying the soft carpet instead of traditional bedding.
Seeking to enjoy a lapse in our security, due to our sleeping, a cop approaches the main gate to the compound. Getting right up to the gate a sudden hand darts through from the inside and grabs him. Swiftly pulling him against the bars and delivering a series of quick punches through the fences bars the cop is knocked unconscious. A door in the fence is unlocked and the attacker gathers certain items from the prone cop. The attacker goes to a window of the house and knocks discretely. A swift message about what has just occurred is passed on.
. . .
The cop must have called in his position before investigating for in the morning the compound is crawling with policemen. The unconscious initial policeman is revived and treated to a bowl of soup to speed the gathering of his wits. Detective man sees the initial policeman sitting on the hood of a cop car in the front yard of the compound. Gathering from the blanket draped across his shoulders and the tentative sips he takes from his soup that the man will not be able to give any details for some time yet he heads on to the interior of the house where the forensics team is already hard at work.
The detective and his partner marvel at the complete lack of evidence or people in the house. The comment seems out of place as the place is littered with various food crumbs. Apparently this is not the type of evidence these two sought. The detective has been trying to track down these vigilante children for some time but it seems they have eluded him yet again. The tentative story, of the initial cops presence forewarning the children that the authorities were hot on the trail and thus abandoning their home for more anonymous pastures, is easy to piece together from the relative little facts. The detective casually strolls through the house hoping something will catch his eye. Dusting the circular marble table reveals only that it has a special type of finish that doesn't retain fingerprints. However on the bench for the table his dusting reveals half a print. Elated he opens his mouth to exclaim only to have his partner preempt him by shouting to the forensics team that they have a partial. Annoyed the detective squats besides the bench and cocks his head to look at it from a steep angle. His hope for discovering another print this way goes unfulfilled.
An excited cop rushes towards the detectives with an inflatable sword he just found. It is an exact, though inflatable, version of the sword the group of children are known to prize. If not held tightly the well done marble feathering of the sword inside its sheath looks like real marble. The detective takes the inflatable sword from its inflatable sheath and proceeds to fence with the air in joy. At last this is a solid clue. Calling the local sketch artist to the scene they ask him who he knows that could have done such exquisite marbleizing. Despite the artists cluelessness about who would specialize in such a thing the detectives are undaunted and decide to focus on running down the origin of this sword and the original it was rendered from. At last a solid clue on the children vigilantes they had been hunting for so long.
Now far away and en route to a new safe haven the teacher and children realize the one item that had been left behind.
Arriving I immediately notice the sharp stench of brimstone. We stand on a sooty mountain surrounded by bubbling and spitting lava. Occasionally tall columns of fire leap out of the lake of lava climbing surprisingly high into the sky. The rare crackling thunderclap of these devil's fingers stroking the sky obliterates all other sound for the moment of their existence. Soot covers the sky leaving the lava as a dark orange illumination from the bottom up. This must be hell. An elevated sidewalk, held up by pillars stretching down into the lava, leads away from the mountain to a convoluted elevated town. Everything is supported by twisted dark stone pillars. The heat causes all my skin to bead with sweat. Wiping my brow I follow the princess into the town.
In between the fire thunderclaps she explains her situation in her home dimension as we journey through the hell realm towards the palace, her home. Her brother is twisted and evil. Being the next in line, with only a senile father who is incapable of exerting any control over him, he gets whatever he wants. His dementia has had many evil and disastrous results. She had run away because his latest obsession had him wanting to marry her his own sister. Forced now to return she must somehow avert his horrible wishes. To undermine her side even more women have no rights in this land. Living at worse as pets up to as good as having their opinions tolerated but never seriously entertained.
We enter the palace without incident. As we recline and feast after the journey in a private chamber her brother hearing word of her return comes to apprehend her. All thoughts of plans or reasoning is gone as the guards immediately seek to grab her. She fights like a wildcat and I quickly join in her rebellion against the guards. Disposing of the first several guards who enter the room we are soon overwhelmed by a seemingly endless supply of them.
For my traitorous acts against the rightful authority of the realm I am to be tortured. I am placed in the car seat of a deadly roller coaster. At the end there is a large clown face through which the cart goes through. Inside this devilish clowns mouth are whirling knives and spinning giant band saws. Clearly I am about to minced and diced beyond any reasonable thought of survival. The cart jolts into action. I put my head down and close my eyes for the entirety of the roller coaster ride of death. Surprisingly the ride ends with a halt and I have survived. I do not question my good fortune.
. . .
We are a cadre of children kept away from the softening society which we are being trained to protect. Our martial training for the day is over and it is time to sleep. I have a deck of cards secreted about my sleeping garments. Armed thusly I escape from our compound to the town under cover of night. Living so stringent a life has left my thirsty for the delights of common people.
Walking through the town the first thought is how poor and badly kept the place is. Thin boards with gaps make up the majority of walls for the shanties that abound. Ruffians lounge about and diseased prostitutes walk among them soliciting. To make matters worse no one seems to be speaking English. Definitely out of my element and finding all the offered pleasures seedy I quickly grow weary of the town. Returning home through the compound's gates I meet 3 or 4 of my peers sneaking out with the same ideas I had. I quickly disillusion of them of their fun seeking.
Persuaded we all walk back towards where we are supposed to be sleeping. At the side of the place we currently call home there is an elevated wooden deck. The other children are just beginning to awake here with the creeping early rays of sunshine proclaiming the beginning of sunrise. The many meter elevation of the deck along with the small amount of time before we are discovered are our main obstacles. We are currently at the same height as the deck but we are at the corner of the house. At this corner of the house the grassy lawn ends and slopes downwards into a dirt grotto for many meters towards the deck. Too far to jump from the ledge we stand at and the deck to high to jump to from its dirt foundation. Finding a ledge along the house starting where we are and running to the deck should be manageable. Reaching up and gripping one with the tips of my fingers I find the ledge icy cold. Enduring the searing cold I slowly inch towards the deck. I work carefully to avoid the bits of glass scattered randomly among the icy ledge. Making it across the ledge to the deck the rest soon follow. Moments after we are all among the other children as if we had spent all night there, the adults arrive to check on us. Our brief escape goes unnoticed.
We are a group of child fighters training to one day go out and make the world a better place. Currently engaged on a training patrol along a two lane cement road cut into a mountain slope covered by a thick forest the eldest of us is running scout. Encountering a stopped flatbed truck he ducks down to hide underneath the flatbed. Just as he gets a grip on one of the rungs running along the bottom of the flatbed the truck starts up and drives away. Pulling himself further underneath via the horizontal ladder rungs he is surprised to hear a beeping just a little further forward of where he is. Pulling himself forward he discovers a small black box secured to the bottom of the flatbed. Observing it he sees the green blinking light go out to be replaced by a formerly dead light start blinking red. Seeing this he suddenly becomes afraid and drops from the rungs to the cement flying by beneath him. As soon as the last pair of tires passes him he rolls to the side of the road. Before he can regain himself enough to attempt to stand the speeding truck, now a couple hundred yards in the distance, explodes with a tremendous fireball.
After a couple of the squad check that the leader is unharmed we gather him up to investigate the wreckage. Several jump into the open tank of water which the flat bed was carrying. Swimming about and enjoying the water they leave the exterior exploration up to the rest of us. The oppressive sun along with the dank wet air of the surrounding forest is now much more noticeable as we are not zoned in on our patrol. The leader regaining his full senses directs most of us to fan out into the jungle and set up a perimeter. Soon however the investigation yielding no fruit is given up and we all return home.
Resting from our days training outside the house we enjoy the cooler air of the evening. A large muscle bound guy and his two slightly smaller but still imposing friends come to the perimeter fence to challenge us. They have the scarred and tattooed look of ruffians from the village. They must be either the bosses of the village or seeking to make a reputation among the village by challenging us. Though since our elite training is supposed to be secret it is anyones guess how they found out about us. The teacher accepts and directs one of the taller children and two others to meet the mens challenge. Their boar like rushes are soon defeated by lightning quick punches and kicks. The men after a couple of minutes wagging their heads trying to shake off their defeat leave in amazement.
Full of ourselves for such one sided defeats we pour outside the compound into the village and proceed to fight the rest of the ruffians. We are too quick and agile for the lazy muscles of the brutes to make a difference. We take many captives which we continue to assail. The captives grow very belligerent for our technique is too good for them to stand a chance against. Despite them not resisting or instigating we punch them and they begin to complain about being punched for no reason.
Our home, our compound, is a large pleasant affair. Surrounded by a high gated fence most of the compound is a grassy lawn. In the middle of this half an acre our large house stands like a jewel. Marble columns, pale white adobe walls, and tall glinting windows make it seem a small palace. Inside thick white carpet covers all the floors. The dominating centerpiece of the living room is a large circular marble table. On it sits an ornate marble sword. The only light comes from the stars and quarter moon. Night time has brought an eerie calm to the entire compound. No crickets or locusts chirp. Everything is still and silent. Asleep we are scattered about the living room enjoying the soft carpet instead of traditional bedding.
Seeking to enjoy a lapse in our security, due to our sleeping, a cop approaches the main gate to the compound. Getting right up to the gate a sudden hand darts through from the inside and grabs him. Swiftly pulling him against the bars and delivering a series of quick punches through the fences bars the cop is knocked unconscious. A door in the fence is unlocked and the attacker gathers certain items from the prone cop. The attacker goes to a window of the house and knocks discretely. A swift message about what has just occurred is passed on.
. . .
The cop must have called in his position before investigating for in the morning the compound is crawling with policemen. The unconscious initial policeman is revived and treated to a bowl of soup to speed the gathering of his wits. Detective man sees the initial policeman sitting on the hood of a cop car in the front yard of the compound. Gathering from the blanket draped across his shoulders and the tentative sips he takes from his soup that the man will not be able to give any details for some time yet he heads on to the interior of the house where the forensics team is already hard at work.
The detective and his partner marvel at the complete lack of evidence or people in the house. The comment seems out of place as the place is littered with various food crumbs. Apparently this is not the type of evidence these two sought. The detective has been trying to track down these vigilante children for some time but it seems they have eluded him yet again. The tentative story, of the initial cops presence forewarning the children that the authorities were hot on the trail and thus abandoning their home for more anonymous pastures, is easy to piece together from the relative little facts. The detective casually strolls through the house hoping something will catch his eye. Dusting the circular marble table reveals only that it has a special type of finish that doesn't retain fingerprints. However on the bench for the table his dusting reveals half a print. Elated he opens his mouth to exclaim only to have his partner preempt him by shouting to the forensics team that they have a partial. Annoyed the detective squats besides the bench and cocks his head to look at it from a steep angle. His hope for discovering another print this way goes unfulfilled.
An excited cop rushes towards the detectives with an inflatable sword he just found. It is an exact, though inflatable, version of the sword the group of children are known to prize. If not held tightly the well done marble feathering of the sword inside its sheath looks like real marble. The detective takes the inflatable sword from its inflatable sheath and proceeds to fence with the air in joy. At last this is a solid clue. Calling the local sketch artist to the scene they ask him who he knows that could have done such exquisite marbleizing. Despite the artists cluelessness about who would specialize in such a thing the detectives are undaunted and decide to focus on running down the origin of this sword and the original it was rendered from. At last a solid clue on the children vigilantes they had been hunting for so long.
Now far away and en route to a new safe haven the teacher and children realize the one item that had been left behind.
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