Pangaea-world.dk

Fitz was tumbling along the dusty road towards Britain. The sun seemed to be sneering at him up in the sky as if it knew some silliness was afoot. Out of the forest Fitz heard someone calling at him with a coarse voice.

"Hey you, freak!" A tower of a man appeared from the shades of nearby trees.
"Aye sirrah, how may a bloody fool be of assistance? Maybe a little tumble or a jape to freshen yer day.”
"Did you fall off a circus wagon or what?"
"Quite the observation, my good feller, but nay. I am a bit of a one-man spectacle myself, ye see. And now that ye’ve volunteered to be my trusty nitwit sidekick, we'll be conquering the circus world in no time. I, with my sleight of hand and tricks of persuasion and whatnot. And ye, with yer ogre-like looks and with that mug which much reminds me of an arse of a baboon while it’s taking a shit. Come see all! Come see all! A true wonder of the worl- “
*KAPOW*

Some time later, Fitz found himself waking up in the forest quite naked. "Fuckstockings! Ow, my head. What kind of an arse face can't take a bit of friendly banter? And who steals a man’s pantaloons? Who does that?" Looking around the forest, all Fitz could find was a few of his masks scattered around and… his red jester’s hat, hanging on a branch. The family heirloom, centuries old. Or did he just buy it in that last town he visited? Either way it’s a nice hat. Grabbing the few items he could find, he continued on his way to Britain.

“Sir! Where are your clothes?”
“Ah, a brave town’s guard welcoming me back to civilization! Clothes? Pssh! I’m wearing nature’s own costume, completing heroic deeds for the needy and helping those less-endowed. But ey, gaze not too longingly or ye might be hypnotized or turned into stone, courtesy of the cockatrice god. Though if yer wife’s around, I could show ye a trick or-”
“Go get some clothes and get out of my sight, NOW!”

“Tough critics, eh?” Mumbled Fitz as he tumbled into a tailor shop with his bells jingling.

"There once was a man from Occlo
With a head which was shaped like a potato
Wherever he went
He caused torment
He was just so bloody ugly- uhh... o."

"Oh come on, that's some quality poetry."
--

"Let's see... a week worth of performing and I've earned... 1, 2, 3... 7 coins! That gets me about two and a half carrots, three if one them is rotten. Not too bad, not too bad. No hold on, that's bloody awful! Sheesh, I might need to do some actual work to keep myself fed."

Next day, Fitz rose up early. "Time to make some coinage the good ol' way. A bank robbery! I already have the mask thing going on so all I need to do is to get in there, grab the gold, maybe do some tumbling, and run. Easy."
He set up his lookout point behind a barrel of trash next to the bank, looking somewhat out of place squatting there in his fool's costume. "I just need to wait for the right moment and... and..." *meow* "Shh! Don't you see I'm doing a thing here?" *MEOW* Fitz turned to look at the dark cat pawing at him. "Well aren't you a curious-looking thing with those purple eyes. Here, play with this while daddy takes care of business" Said Fitz, and handed the cat the doll he uses for ventriloquism. The cat kept staring and meowing at him. "You know, this is why nobody likes cats. Fine, what do you want?"

The cat sprinted off into distance. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I was just about to get rich too." Sighed Fitz and went after the cat.

Fitz saw the cat's tail disappear into a little hut in outskirts of Britain. Stepping in, a puff of smoke blinded him.
"Myeeeesh, come iiinn!" A shrieking voice called inside the hazy hut. The air smelled of vile musky mixture of old socks and pungent perfume. The place was filled with odd items which didn't seem to make much sense to Fitz. Dark liquid was boiling in a huge black cauldron which was standing in the middle of the room. Fitz hesitated for a second.

"Are you a... a witch?" Fitz finally asked.
"Well duh! How did you feel about the dramatic witch voice? Pretty spooky, huh? I'm still working on the coarseness but I think I'm getting there" Said the witch now in much less witchy voice and stepped out of the shadows, appearing not very witchy either with a smooth skin and whatnot.
"Uhhh... You don't look much like any witch I've ever seen. Not that I've seen any before."
"Yeah? Do the black hooded robes and my mysterious aura mean nothing to you? Do you want me to grow a wart on my nose? You on the other hard, you look like a complete fool."
"I take my words back. Meanness of spirit, the number one characteristic of a witch, you definitely have that. And that wart would fit just fine on your nose."
"You know, I could turn you into a newt with a snap of my fingers. And contrary to popular belief, you don't recover from that, you don't get better. You wouldn't want that, would you? So watch your words." Said the witch with intimidation in her words.
"I've never actually been a newt before. Could I mayhaps get a preview before making these life-altering decisions?"
"Urgh, you're unbearable. If I didn't need you, I'd hex you into smithereens. But I do need you, so here, drink this."

The witch stirred the cauldron a few times, took a cup and filled it with the gooey steaming substance, and handed it to Fitz. The fool glanced at the witch, who looked at him with a smirk, and then at the door behind him which somehow seemed to be backing away into the distance. Finally, he shrugged and took a sip from the cup.

"Uhh... it tastes like cranberry juice."
"Yes, my own recipe. It's good for your urinary tracts, if you didn't know. Now come over here. I've got something else in store for you as well."

"Go fetch me that egg!"

Fitz stepped out of the Witch's hut carrying a bunch of dusty scrolls. He took a few steps into the woods and dumped all the scrolls on the ground. "Let's see... let's see... All I need to do is get rid of the mother. The rest will be easy" He browsed through a few scrolls. "Better start with the basics. Ah here, perfect! Rufus, I love this guy." He picked one of the scrolls and started reading. It went more or less like this:



Fitz looked at his noodle arms, crumpled the paper and thew it away. "Eehh, I'll just wing it like I've done so far in life." He packed the rest of the scrolls into his bag and set off towards the mountain range in the distance, singing a song about a brave knight sir MacGuffin and his seemingly useless adventures.

Moist. The air was heavy with moisture. Crickets were chirping in the dense undergrowth and trees formed a green ceiling over the numerous pointy-toothed denizens of the forest. Trying to avoid said denizens was Fitz who, I think it's fair to say, was quite lost. Yet, there was absolutely no need to worry. There was hardly a time when Fitz wasn't lost in a way or another. One might even say being lost was his second profession, you know, after the foolery thing. Besides, aren't explorers just professional lost-people as well?

Fitz was following his age-old method of survival picked up from the Everyman's Book of Known Knowledge™: When in doubt, walk it out. The logic behind it was to walk straight until your problems literally disappear from your view. If you can't see your problems, surely your problems can't see you. Only this time the forest seemed to get darker with every step and the twinkling eyes in the shrubbery seemed to get more and more numerous. No need to worry still. Having something perilous happen now would, no doubt, be too predictable and would only happen in shoddily-written tales.

In the darkness, Fitz heard faint singing. The female voice was clean and beautiful. Forcing his way through some brambles, Fitz came to a little opening in the forest. In the middle, he saw a bare-skinned girl, sitting on a blanket. Clearly the source of the singing. The girl had her back turned towards him.

"Ahem ayy, I'm uhh... looking for a way out of here." Said Fitz.
No answer. The girl kept singing. Fitz approached.
"Don't get me wrong, I love naked sing-alongs, and I too have a voice of an angel, but I unfortunately have a nasty ol' dragon waiting for me up on the mountains." Said Fitz.
Fitz reached to touch the girl's shoulder

Tentacles bursted out of the girl's head with a splorch and one of them tangled around Fitz's outreached arm.



"AAHHHH, let go! I need that arm for my juggling routine!"
The tentacle pulled Fitz closer.

"Won't you... just let... go!"
Fitz tried to struggle his arm free but the tentacle held on tight.

"TOOOoooTOOooROoooooo... FOR LADY PRUDENCE!" From the edge of the forest, a knight on a white steed charged at full speed towards Fitz and the tentacle monstrosity Fitz was wrestling with.

"Hold on Mr. knight! I'm sure we can solve this misunderstanding with a few nice wor..." There was an explosion of flesh and tentacles "...ds. Or like that. That works, I suppose."

The knight hopped off his steed, stroke a pose,



and then bowed.
"Sir Langston Bingsworth at your service, my dear jester."
"Ah yes, sir Fitzgerald Thistlewits at yours but you can just call me Fitz. The situation was all under control but I do appreciate the gesture and admire the explosive entrance." Said Fitz while wiping tentacle bits off his costume.

"I could hear screaming from a league away so I figured someone was in dire danger. After all, the honor code of the knights obliges to help the weak and the wretched."

"Alright alright, I choose to take that as a compliment. Somehow."

"Aye lad, that's one more heroic deed in the books." Langston took a small dusty book out of his pouch and scribbled something in it. "This is sure to earn me at least fifty-six virtue points, some extra for saving a helpless creature... And if my calculations are correct, only thirteen more dragonslayings and twenty saved princesses and I'll be the the most revered knight in all of Britannia. I just hope I'm not hit by the virtue inflation too badly. Hooah, for lady Prudence!"

"Wait, who is this Lady Prudence? I'm pretty sure a sleazy broad went by that name at the Groggy Donkey. And let me tell you, she wasn't all that prudent."

"Oh no no! The lady! Surely you know her? Her beauty is that of a dozen suns blazing at their brightest. Angels gasp in the wake of her presence. A masterpiece of gods' work. Come, I'll show you something to feast your eyes on." Langston walked up to his horse and searched for something in its saddle bags.

"So, what do you think?" Asked Langston with glee in his words.

A strong scent of perfume wafted from the picture.

"Oh wow, yeah, mmh. I can see now why you would want to go out adventuring and slaying monsters after gazing at her, uhh, hearty splendour." Said Fitz.

"I would crawl through endless dungeons and find dozens of rat relics to prove lady Prudence's beauty and graciousness!" Said Langston

"Now now, that's hardly necessary as long as you carry that picture with you. Really, who could resist a bosom so soft and... heart so pure and... yup. Give me some time and I'll write a poem in her honor. Just the picture alone has inspired me in the most grandiose way."

"Yes, I would like that. But first, tell me what is a lone fool doing in an enchanted forest." Asked Langston

"Enchanted? I didn't know this forest was enchanted."

"All forests are enchanted. Have you ever been in one that wasn't?"

Fitz pondered for a moment. "Good point. I, actually, happen to be on a great life-changing, and possibly world-changing, quest." Fitz took a map and spread it on the ground. "See this mountain over here. And this dragon here. Hum, I hope that's not drawn to scale. Anyhow, that's where I'm going."

The forest suddenly made way for open, rocky terrain as Fitz and sir Langston bumpled through some brambles.

"Sheesh, it sure felt like we were in that forest for months although it was just a few hours. Hmm, hey Langston, do you ever get the feeling that you're being followed?" Fitz asked as he tumbled over some boulders.
"Huh, do you think we're being followed?" Langston loosened up his sword and had his head on a swivel.
"No, what I mean is that if we were to be followed, what would the chance be that it was a cart filled with delicious snacks and refreshing drinks? It could happen, right?" Said Fitz with a hopeful tone.
"Uh, I have my doubts. But if it were to happen, it would likely be pulled by a nice beholder with a monocle and a top hat, I'm sure." Langston rolled his eyes under his helmet. "Now shush, do you hear that?"

Something was rustling behind nearby boulders. Langston stretched his neck to take a peek.

"What, what is it? Could it be...?" Asked Fitz.
"Yes, a huge frigging bear." Said Langston
"Oh. Maybe it's one of those wise and friendly bears. Does it look friendly?"
"Not particularly. It's staring at me quite menacingly, in fact. I think it's hungry."
"Let me handle this. I used to be around bears all the time in the circus. Back then, I was called the bear whisperer. I know how to talk to them. I'll befriend it in no time."

With a pounce Fitz jumped in front of the bear.

"Ahem, hey there sir Bearington. I come bearing a terrible task on my bear shoulders. Bearriers must be broken, and we must be pre-beared. And uhh..." The bear started snarling showing its teeth. Fitz hesitated for a moment. "Okay, could you stop the snarling. This is getting beary unbearable."



Growling, the bear took a step forward. But then it gave out a pitiful yelp and ran away.

"Hey wait! Aww, what did I say wrong?" Fitz turned to look at Langston. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Beats me. You're the bear whisperer. Maybe one too many bear puns?" Langston shrugged.
"Huh, you think so?" Said Fitz looking puzzled.
"Problem solved, I say. And that should count for more virtue points." Langston had his little book out doing virtue calculations.

They didn't notice that something was watching them from high up in the sky behind them.

Meanwhile, a new craze is taking over Britain snack market by force.