Joe wandered naked into the Applebee’s in Ichamur. A distracted young man in a black, button-up shirt and matching pants moved to open the door for him. He didn’t seem to notice Joe’s nudity, or perhaps he didn’t mind. But no, his gaze met Joe’s, then drifted down to his dangling member. “I shaved,” Joe explained.
Joe had been feeling a little down as of late, what with the lack of wars to fight. Trading had proved boring as shit, and recruiting troops seemed a waste of time without wars. Worse still, he hadn’t found his beloved Champion Courser. Somewhere, he knew, she was wandering around, lost and alone, suffering just as he was. He missed her: her scent, her smile, the hilarity of her attempts at handjobs.
Usually, shaving his balls immediately before walking around naked in public cheered him up. But he wasn’t having much fun. The doorman wasn’t enjoying it, either. He tried to close the door but Joe squeezed through. “I am lord Joe.” he declared. “And today’s fucking half-priced Sangria Night, so fuck you.” He walked past the little doorkeeper, grabbed a menu, and seated himself. The Applebee’s staff’s resistance was futile.
It took a few minutes, but eventually Joe got drunk. His world lurched and spun, but it wasn’t better than before. It was still a world without +3 Courser. He rested his head on the table.
“Joe. Please respond.”
Joe dragged his eyes from the tabletop, sticky with purple liquid, up to the man across from him. He squinted. Not a man, a triceratops. Bale. “Where you get here?” Joe asked.
“Been here an hour, Joe.” Bale scratched at his scaly neck. “You’ve been telling me about the lack of cav, specifically your, uh, lover.”
“Fucking Spanish. First the Maine, then our damn horses.” Joe wasn’t sure where he was. He glanced around but saw only blurry stuff.
“Right.” The Terrortops leaned forward. Joe thought Bale was going to kiss him so he leaned forward too. He charged in for the coup de grace, but Bale stopped his searching, desperate lips with an upraised…dinosaur foot thing.
“I see I’ve misunderestimated you.” Joe grabbed the salt-shaker and drizzled some onto the table. It piled up and up like snow. “A shame. You could have been my Terrorcock. We could have ruled the Arctic together.”
Bale looked frustrated. Of course. Anyone who turned down his sweet lovings would be frustrated with themselves. “No, Joe, I’m trying to tell you that your Courser might be in the North. EU scum has some outposts there. Kalmar people. Light blue on The Map. EU’s economy is infinitely superior to ours. Perhaps they have some decent cav up there, eh?” His beady little dinosaur eyes twinkled like the piss drippings scattered on the rim of a porcelain toilet do when the bathroom light strikes them just right.
“My horse?”
“Your horse, Joe. She might be waiting for you in Shulus. We need to plan a—”
Joe dove sideways out of his booth, hitting the gum-stained carpet hard. He lurched to his feet and marched towards the door, his veins flowing with Sangria and new-found hope. He needed to get to the armory and barracks—needed to muster his troops and save his love.
But then a waitress appeared in his path with a full tray in one hand. The wench took up the entire aisle. She stared, wide-eyed, and stuttered, “E-excuse me. I need to get to my t-table.”
“I NEED MY HORSE MORE!” Joe slapped one hand down on the tray, sending up a geyser of fries and fountain soda. She held onto it, though, and clutched it before her face like a turtling shielder my old friend. Joe immediately kicked, stumbling her long enough for him to finish her with a right hook. He leapt over her prone, weeping form and confronted his next foe, a fleeing one-hander wearing a puffy hat and white apron with a spatula in hand. He was waddling away quickly, screaming for his mother. He’d surely bring reinforcements. Joe grabbed him by the back of his apron, hoisted him overhead, and threw him across the room in the direction of the bar.
By now everyone was screaming. A taste of future battles. The path to the door was clear. He put his head down and sprinted. A toddler clutching a teddy bear stepped out in front of him, but Joe wasn’t stopping. He slammed into her like a fucking tractor-trailer hitting a deer. He didn’t look back. The heavy wood doors with glass panes were now just feet away. He punched a hole in the glass, put his hand through to unlock it from the outside but, realized it was already unlocked. He stumbled through the door and broken glass into the cool night of Ichamur’s crowded city streets.
“KALMAR WILL FALL!” he screamed.
