Huron the Hero


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Huron the Hero

I'm not going to repost the first four chapters unless someone really wants me to. Versions of them are at TDL anyways. Here are chapters 5 and 6, though.


Diabloii.Net Member
Huron the Hero

Chapter 5 – In which parting is sweetly sorrowful.

“Are you ready, Garvard?â€

“Hurr on, why you haf to go?â€

“Garvard, the poison is going to kill everyone! Cue Bic needs a hero, and besides, I can’t throw you, can I?†Huron’s eyes teared up a little as he looked at the Hammerhand. He was actually going to miss the big kid. The funerals for the unknown Cue Biccer and Jim the toad had been bad enough without having to leave his new-found best friend behind and run off to combat an evil power with nothing but his bare hands and good looks.

“Will you come visit?†whimpered the giant.

“Of course I will, as soon as I have this little problem all cleaned up. Once the stream is clean again, you can come back to your cave and I’ll come to see you and Bradwise and Sniffly and everyone else. But for now, you guys just hang out on the mountain, and everything will be ok. Ok?â€

Garvard’s lip began to tremble, and he plucked Huron off the ground and hugged him softly against his neck. Huron wrapped his arms around the giant’s shoulder and sighed. “Now you have to make sure I get all the way across the river, alright? I don’t want to land in the poison and die.†Huron smiled to clear away the tears.

“Goodbye Hurr on! I’n gunna miss you!â€

“Goodbye Garvard!†And with those words Huron felt himself being flung high into the air, through the fog, in, hopefully, the direction of the opposite river bank.

Now Huron didn’t know it, but he nearly died several times while he was in transit. He barely missed a passing Yankee war blimp, passed through the midst of a lost flock of geese, and was almost skewered by the lance of a member of the Flying Knights of Masochismo, a bizarre organisation that specialised in combating itself by doing the things it was most afraid of and experienced the most displeasure while doing. Some of the FKM’s wizard’s were incredibly intelligent, and had discovered new heights to which to send the members spiralling into and beyond. Among the wizards’ greater discoveries were the atmosphere, the stratosphere, the biosphere, the lithosphere, and the veryhiosphere, as well as the means to reach them with little or no hope of surviving. They had also coined the names of many phobias, and had written dictionaries of the names of all of the different human fears, natural or otherwise.

The organisation’s favourite, and coincidentally most painful, activity involved sending small groups of members deep into enemy territory to taunt the elitist Walking Knights of Machismo, their arch rivals. These excursions always met with great success, which in other words meant that the excursioners experienced great Fear Of Blunt Objects (clubophobia) and often died, or in less successful missions were horribly mangled, beaten, and/or bruised.

As Huron flew the rush of wind was almost exhilarating, and thankfully the fog hid the ground below so well that he felt none of the negative effects of flying that he had expected, namely vertigo, nausea, and a legitimate Fear Of Landing (painfallophobia).

Unfortunately this meant that he didn’t see the approaching rooftop until he was halfway through it.


When Huron awoke he opened his eyes to see a cavernous, tooth-filled maw gaping open in front of him. He yelled and instinctively raised his hands to fight back. After a few moments of silent struggle he realised his opponent wasn’t moving, and sat up. He was lying on a stone bed, covered in a full bearskin rug. Nothing else decorated the stone-walled room except for a few paintings, a fully functional door, and a round window just below the edge of the ceiling above his head.

Huron knew the door was fully functional because as he watched, it swung itself open and allowed a man to walk through it.

The man was dressed in a dark brown robe that stretched from his chin nearly to the floor. The man’s head was completely bald, and he had narrow cheeks and pointed ears with no lobes. His face was long and rounded, except for his nose, which was short and sharp, and seemed to thrust outwards like a poorly brandished thumbtack. His eyebrows framed his slotted yellow pupils like prowling wolves, and seemed to be in a constant, deliberate pattern of motion that brought them into and out of striking range in turns, and never left a gap open for any sneaky little deer or rabbits to get through.

But his eyes drew Huron’s attention the most. They were bold and intense, brash and ferocious. They dared you to ignore them… at your peril. The canine gaze seemed painfully aware of Huron’s presence, and bore straight through Huron’s eyes into his head and out the back, where it continued into the wall with a nearly audible thud and almost knocked a painting of a brooding landscape to the floor. Huron knew he was being appraised, and did his best to sit up and look valuable.

The man stopped by the bedside and said: “doof emos evah ,ereH.â€

Huron puzzled over this for a moment, then saw that Flowolf was offering him a plate covered in delicious looking food. Huron took the plate, realised just how hungry he really was, said, “Thank you,†and without another thought, dug in. Flowolf stood, watched, and occasionally licked his lips.

As Huron began on his fourth drumstick, the door fulfilled its function again, and another man walked in, dressed much the same as the first, but shorter, plumper, and seemingly more happy. Flowolf’s mouth twitched a little in annoyance. “Oh, awake, are we? Has Brother Flowolf made you comfortable?†he said.

Huron nodded in dumb satisfaction. Flowolf’s eyebrows growled a little, then watchfully subsided.

“I hope he didn’t confuse you at all. He has a hard time talking backwards when he’s excited, you see.â€

Something told Huron that he should be confused by what he had just heard and seen, but he was too hungry to let it bother him, and simply nodded and kept eating.

“My name is Brother Belge. I am one of the monks of this, The Monastery. Flowolf is one of the Brothers as well. He’s a little bit strange, but you’ll get used to him pretty quickly,†he added in a whisper.

Huron accepted this and moved on. Potatoes were next.

“Maybe we’ll come back when you’re less… occupied. We’ll see you in a little while.†Brother Belge turned and walked out of the room.

Flowolf’s eyes twitched a little in what looked like a precursor to a sorrowful parting, then he said, “noos enog eb ll’uoy sseuG,†and stepped through the door.

Huron kept eating.


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Huron the Hero

Chapter 6 - In which Hero becomes Prophet.

When Huron had finished his meal he left the plate on the floor, wrapped himself in the bearskin, and allowed the door to function. He pulled it closed and surveyed his surroundings.

He was standing in an Arching Hallway of Cavernous Height. Two walls of solid stone stretched a hundred metres into the air and leaned precariously inwards until they met in a curving, swooping ceiling. Huron reeled, hugged the gravy-stained bearskin around his muscular chest, and felt much smaller than he ever had before.

Eventually he recovered and moved off down the hallway to explore, stealing glances upwards at regular intervals to assure himself that the ceiling wasn’t going to collapse inwards and crush him under its weight. After a few minutes he came across a door. Trying the handle he found it locked, and carried on. Another five hundred steps passed, and he came across another door. This one’s handle turned, so Huron opened it and looked inside. It was a small room, mostly bare, with a round window near the ceiling, several drab paintings on the walls, and a flat stone bed sitting heavily in the middle. Something seemed vaguely familiar about the room, but Huron couldn’t quite put his finger on it, so he put it in his mouth instead, and continued to walk along the passageway.

Soon he discovered another door, much like the other two. It was also locked, as were the fifth and seventh doors he found. The fourth door Huron tried contained another one of the stone rooms with the beds, as did the sixth and the eighth. Something seemed fishy, so Huron continued to the ninth door to see if it would explain itself any better.

The ninth door opened of its own accord, and a monk walked through it. He was not bald, as the other two were, but had thick black hair that draped over his forehead. He had a roundly pointed chin and dark eyes, and seemed strangely preoccupied with the air two feet in front of his eyes, as if he was holding a conversation with an invisible face.

He turned to Huron and smiled. “Hai,†he said. “You must be our unexpected visitor. My name is Furry. Brother Kaz Furry. Oh wait, I’ll be right back.â€

Huron waited a few minutes. Brother Kaz continued to stare into the air in front of him and not move. Huron became bored of waiting for him to “come back†and walked through the still-open wooden door.

After following a much more comfortably ceilinged stone tunnel for several minutes Huron found a short ladder leading upwards to a small round trap door. He ascended the ladder and emerged into a beautiful sanctuary, draped with royal red sashes, trimmed with gold, and with an ornate altar and pulpit perched atop a raised platform at one end. Monks were walking everywhere, weaving between pews, chatting, chanting, swinging pots of smoking incense, and acting generally monkish.

Brother Belge waddled up to Huron took his hand. “Did Brother Kaz find you alright?â€

“Well, kind of,†began Huron.

“Oh no, he didn’t… zone out or anything, did he?â€

“If you mean that he told me he would be right back and just stopped moving entirely, then yes, he did.â€

Brother Belge sighed. “I’m sorry. He does that more often, lately. You see, Kaz is actually a bit of a clairvoyant. He possesses two bodies at once, but isn’t quite able to control them both at the same time. Theoretically the closer they are to each other, the easier it is, but… Well, we don’t really know where his other body is, and no matter how often we ask, he doesn’t want to tell us. We do know the other body is named Fiona, but that’s about it. We call it “going AFKâ€, which stands for Alternately Fiona/Kaz, and we put up with it as best we can. We try to be accepting.â€

Huron processed this information, found it logically unacceptable, and filed it with all of the other concepts he had never picked up, such as algebra and females.

“Oh look,†said Brother Belge. “See that hole in the stained-glass ceiling? That’s where you fell through on your descent from heaven, as was prophesied. This really is exciting, having a prophet come to us from the sky. We’re very eager to see what you will do for mankind.â€

Huron blinked a few times.

“The gods are very excited too. In fact, we were just about to consult them,†continued Brother Belge. “Would you like to watch?†He took Huron’s arm and pulled him to a spartan pew, straight-backed and made of the type of wood that only pews are made of, that is, the uncomfortable kind. All of the monks who had been milling about started to come together into a clump of bodies, and murmur under their breath. As they began to quiet down and lower their heads the trap door flung open and Brother Kaz jumped out, apologised for being late, and elbowed his way into the pack until he was somewhat nearer to the middle.

The murmuring died down, and all of the monks lowered their heads and closed their eyes.

Huron waited, intrigued.

The monks lifted their heads, patted each other’s backs in congratulation, separated, and resumed their general milling about and chanting.

Huron raised an eyebrow as Brother Belge and Brother Kaz approached with exuberant smiles. “So what did you think?†they asked.

“About what, exactly?â€

“The ceremony. Was it enjoyable?â€

“What did you do?â€

“We consulted the gods.â€

“About what?â€

“Oh, a lot of things.â€

“How? What happened?â€

“Didn’t you see?â€

“See what?â€

“Well weren’t you watching?â€

Huron began to get frustrated. “All you did was stand in a clump, lower your heads, and do nothing!â€

“To the untrained eye, maybe.â€

Huron gave up. “What did they tell you?â€


“The gods.â€

“Oh, them. Well, they told us that you are going to play a very important role in something, and are going to accomplish something very heroic.â€

Huron liked the sound of that.

“And then they laughed,†continued Brother Kaz. “A strange thing, hearing a god laugh. Have you ever heard a god laugh?â€

Huron had to admit that he hadn’t.

“Yes, well it’s very strange.â€

“Did they say what I’m going to do?†pressed Huron, eager to hear great things about himself.

“Not really. They just said it and laughed.â€

“Well anyways, thanks for everything,†said Huron, disappointed and mildly offended. “I should probably be going then. I have problems to solve; victims to avenge; damsels to save; lifestyles to preserve. Oh, and nice drapes.â€

“Thank you,†said Brother Belge. “If you’re sure you’re strong enough, I guess we can’t keep you any longer. We can give you a new cloak and a walking stick, though. And you might as well keep that bear skin now that you got gravy all over it. But are you sure you want to go? You haven’t even taken The Tour. Don’t you want to take The Tour?â€

“What does the tour include?â€

“Well one of our educated staff members leads you throughout the Monastery, explaining in detail the significance and history of the artifacts contained herein. You will see the Sanctuary (which we’re standing in), the Circular Arching Hallway of Cavernous Height (which you were roomed in), and the Pit. The Pit is very interesting, although you wouldn’t want to fall in… There are ferocious Strids and venomous WereRabbits in the bottom of it. It used to be a torture hole. Now we throw the monsters our garbage. Very efficient.â€

“Wait a minute,†said Huron. “Circular?â€

“Yes, that’s what I said. Didn’t you notice?â€

“Uhm, yes, of course I did. I just thought you said… er, Ceramic.â€

“It’s ok, we get that all the time.â€

“Well thank you for your offer, but I really must be going. Maybe you could send me in the right direction?â€

“Of course. Come this way, please. We have a back door that leads into the heart of Cue Bic.â€

The Brothers Kaz and Belge led Huron out of the Sanctuary, through several doors, and into a small room filled with cloaks of various sizes and qualities, and walking sticks of all kinds. Belge instructed Huron to take his pick of each. He took a long, thick oak staff with a round metal head, and draped a light brown cape (with minimal travel staining) over his shoulders.

Brother Kaz wished him well, and went AFK.

“Make sure to come back soon and let us know how everything is working out for you. Our Monastery is always open to a great Prophet like you!â€

Huron promised to return frequently. Before he could leave, the door to the outside opened itself, and Flowolf walked in. He saw Huron, cleared his throat a little, and said, “yadot ew era who dnA?â€

“If you’re at all confused,†said Brother Belge, “let me explain. Brother Flowolf is one of the Drawk-cab, a strange race of highly intelligent beings who experience time in the opposite direction of you and I. Does this make sense to you?â€

Huron nodded his head numbly, then shook it.

“I know it’s confusing, but try not to think about it too hard,†recommended Brother Belge. “The more you think about it the more your brain starts to hurt. I mean, think about it. If you insult him, he’s going to react ‘before’ you say it. But what if you see him get angry at you, and then you realise that you must have been going to insult him, and then that causes you not to insult him? It’s a dilemma, you see. We try not to insult him at all, for just that reason, and we mostly leave him to himself to avoid confusion. We’ve become much more adept at understanding what he says, although trying to hold a conversation with him is nigh impossible. He’s very smart, though. He can even talk forwards pretty well, when he wants to.â€

Huron rubbed his temples, thickened his “uncomprehended subjects†file by a good fifty percent, and decided to get the heck out of there before he went mad. He walked to the open door, said a final thank you to Brother Belge, waved a hand in front of Brother Kaz’s face, and stepped out into a deserted street as Brother Flowolf greeted him with, “noruH olleh ,hA!â€

Brother Belge scratched his forehead and took a deep breath. “He doesn’t seem very prophet-like,†he sighed. “But who am I to argue with divine intervention? Besides, he does look pretty strong...â€


A few short miles away a semi-naked old man crawled painfully out of an impact crater in the ground. “Darn,†he wheezed. “I missed.â€


Diabloii.Net Member
These are really well written and entertaining. It reminds me slightly of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, with the frequent break-offs into slightly unrelated topics (clubophobia). The only real problems I could think of is having all of the chapters in the same thread, and some minor spelling mistakes.

But overall, really well written. Keep up the good work!


Diabloii.Net Member
Thanks for the encouragement.

As for spelling mistakes, it's actually one of my stronger points, in my opinion. Mind pointing these out?

Or are you seeing things like harbor=harbour and stuff? Because that's just Canadian :D

I might soon be posting updated and better versions on my website, or you can read the first four chapters at TDL, if you haven't.