Flights of Fantasy - The Pub Fantasy Smackdowns

Artefact

My entry for Round 1 of the Fantasy Smackdown in the Pub, started in Dec 2012. For this round we had to pick 4 of 8 pictures and then use a group picture which had to have a vague mention in the story. My group picture was 'swings'. All five pictures used are included in the slideshow on the right.

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Artefact

The lizard pulled over the motorbike and stopped to take in the view. It could have been anywhere in the New States. Windmills and solar panels provided power to the town, and a few people were walking between rows of neat houses. A children's play area lay empty in the heat of the day, swings hanging listlessly in the still air, and the distant murmur of a tractor drew his eyes to a farm nearby.

It could've been anywhere on Earth until you looked to the sky and saw the dragons, then the reality of the Twinning set in once more. Earth had never had dragons, but many things had changed since the catalyst rise of the Phoenix, and the collision of the two worlds of myth and reality.

Antar leant on the handlebars of the sleek machine, its chrome shining in the desert sun as he looked across the land. A wide toothy smile split his face as a duck and its young brood waddled past, genuine pleasure touching his eyes. His gaze lifted to the small town a few hundred yards down the road. Yet another town called Phoenix, yet another task.

Moments later when the ducks had left, a motor roared and a new dust trail landed in Phoenix.

"... and there shall come the day when the twin worlds are once more ripped asunder and the flaming bird of absolution will deliver us from this living hell. This abomination of magic and sin shall cease, and only the righteous will survive!" Antar paused on his way to an inn and watched the speaker on the opposite side of the street for a few seconds. Bearded, unkempt and flecked with spittle, the man stood on the corner with a growing crowd of onlookers, his ranting diatribe getting more intense as he worked up a belly full of fervour.

"... and there stands the heretic, a product of sin and vile darkness." Antar grinned at the accusatory finger levelled at him, and made a rude sign with one clawed hand.

The bearded man leapt from his rickety podium and flung himself across the street at Antar, a scream of inchoate rage bubbling from his throat, one hand sweeping a dagger from somewhere within his dirty robes. Without drawing his own weapons, Antar blocked the thrust with a forearm, and punched the claws of his left hand through the bearded throat, dropping the gurgling casualty to the ground.

"Nothing to see here folks, my apologies for making a mess." Antar sauntered off towards the pub, his smile still firmly in place, blood seeping soundlessly into the dust behind him.

"Hey handsome, care for some company?"

Astar smiled at the woman who had moved to the side of his table and sipped his ale, gesturing to the empty seat opposite. "You don't appear to be offering any special services, my lady, despite your somewhat revealing attire. Do I take it you're after something more interesting than a quick tumble?"

The woman mock sighed and threw herself into the chair signalling to a bar hand for a drink. "My 'attire' as you so gracefully put it, is part of my calling. We Barbarian women need little in the way of clothing when we have other skills." The woman gestured to the handle of a battleaxe resting between her shoulder blades with a casual thumb.

"In that case my lady, may I know your name in exchange for buying you a drink?"

"You may." She paused as the barman placed a flagon of ale in front of her. "The lizard's getting it," she noted to the barman's outstretched hand.