Monday, May 11, 2015

Wings of the Barfoo

Well, that was a bit unexpected.  I got a random idea while walking around town earlier tonight, and then after I got home and had a beer I figured "hey, maybe I should actually write that random idea."  So here it is, a brief little thing I wrote that basically acts as an origin story for one of the Guardians of the Barfoo who previously had no backstory whatsoever...

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Wings of the Barfoo


Dark clouds hung over the ocean, the last red-orange glimmers of a sunset just barely managing to break through.  On an old wooden dock, a heavily-tattooed man sat down and breathed deeply, wiping the sweat off his brow with the only hand he had left – going by the lightly blood-soaked bandages covering his shoulder, it seemed that the other one had recently been removed along with his entire left arm.

                “Looks like it’s over,” he muttered, breathing a sigh of relief as the rough seas around him gradually began to calm once again.  “That was a close one…”

                An older woman clad in purple walked across the dock and stood next to him, tapping his wounded shoulder with the scraggly-looking old broom she was carrying.  A dim glow surrounded the bandages for just a moment, and then they vanished and were immediately replaced with fresh ones.

                “Wasn’t expecting the big fish,” the injured man grunted.  “Never seen one like that before.  Aren’t supposed to be fish that big around here.”

                “Indeed,” the old woman spoke, gazing out across the ocean.  “Dragged here from another world along with the storm that fool summoned, I’d imagine.  If I hadn’t been able to disrupt the spell when I did, he could’ve ended up dumping a whole other ocean onto us here…”

                “Scary stuff.  Ain’t it supposed to be a real pain to open a portal like that with magic normally?  But with the power of just one Barfoo Point...”

                The old woman nodded, causing her oddly-pointed hat to dangle precariously for a moment.

                “Now imagine if he’d been able to get his hands on the complete Uggy Barfoo.  The lunatic could’ve drowned the Earth under some other world’s ocean in a matter of minutes.  Well, I suppose you’d be fine, but not all of our powers lend themselves to those sorts of conditions.”

                He chuckled for a moment, but flinched slightly as a sharp pain in his side made him realize that he must have bruised a rib in the battle.  A moment later, he turned slightly, facial features hardening once again.

                “Do you think you can heal her?”, he said, pointing back over his shoulder toward a young girl lying face-down on the dock nearby.

She was utterly drenched, her soggy clothes clinging to her body and a mop of pale blue hair drooping down to cover her face.  Her hair wasn’t the only thing about her that was blue – her skin had taken on an unhealthy purplish-blue tone as well.  She had been under far too long.

“We both know that’s beyond my power,” she said, walking over and tapping the girl lightly with her broom, to no apparent effect.  “Even if I managed to revive her, she’d never be quite right again after what she went through… she’d probably wake up in such bad shape that she’d rather have just gone ahead and passed on.  There’s nothing I can do here.”

He stood up abruptly, ignoring the pain in his side.  She turned for a moment and glanced at him through her dark glasses, tilting her head slightly to look at the drowned girl lying nearby for a moment before shifting her gaze to the ocean and then back to him again.

“However… I believe an infusion of Barfoo Power would do the job quite nicely.”

The tattooed man’s eyes widened and he nearly staggered over backward from shock.

“Make her a Guardian of the Barfoo!? No, that’s… J’daahi Bunprego would never allow it!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, smiling slightly.

“We know nothing about her,” he said.  “Bunprego has no reason to trust her with that kind of power.  He wouldn’t allow it.”

Once again, the old witch smiled.

“You may have noticed that J’daahi Bunprego is not here.  And in addition…”

She walked over to the drowned girl, crouching down and lightly touching the palm of one of her wrinkled old hands against her forehead for just a moment.

“…it appears that she didn’t end up this way by accident,” she continued.  “Oh no, she jumped into the stormy sea entirely on purpose – she was trying to save lives, you see.”

She stood up and tapped the same hand on the injured man’s forehead, and a stunned look came over him as flashes of another person’s memory – the girl’s memory – ran through his mind for several seconds.  She had singlehandedly dragged half a dozen of those who had been caught in the wave which had overtaken the beach to safety, and had only been pulled under in an attempt to go back for another who she hadn’t seen bobbing above the water’s surface before then.  No, it was two others—a man and a woman, attempting to keep each other afloat but being battered by the unnaturally-fierce wind and waves called down from the ocean of some unknown world.

“And it would hardly be the first time that an old Guardian has passed their position down to a new generation when they felt they were no longer  able-bodied enough to continue… and without consulting Bunprego beforehand,” she said, staring directly at him, her smile fading.  “You, of all people, should be fully aware of that.

He sighed, hanging his head for a moment, and then walked over to the girl’s limp form and sat cross-legged beside her.  He held out his one remaining hand and placed it on her sea-soaked head, glancing back to the older Guardian before closing his eyes in concentration.  The witch nodded in approval, then just stood back and watched as a brilliant golden aura began to surround the two – surging around the one-armed man at first, and gradually draining away until it had surrounded the girl’s body instead.  As the last of the Barfoo Power’s light faded from the former Guardian’s body, it condensed itself around the newcomer, surrounding her like a protective cocoon for several seconds before vanishing within her.  A dim glow remained for several minutes afterward, and gradually her skin returned to its natural coppery tone and her hair and clothes dried at an accelerated rate, as if they had just spent an hour in the sun.  Before long, she looked to be in perfect health.

The one-armed man stood and slowly, staggeringly, walked across the dock to retrieve something he had left lying several yards away – a sword, its blue-gray blade marked with a pattern that resembled fishbones.  It was still marred with a splash of blood from the monstrous alien fish he had been forced to fight off earlier, but as he sat it down and placed the still-unconscious girl’s hand on its hilt the glow that surrounded her spread to the weapon, removing even the slightest trace of blood or damage until it appeared brand new.

“Would’ve liked to pass it on to my son,” he said, coughing slightly and clutching his side with the only hand he had left.  “But… that was a bit selfish of me, eh?”

“Perhaps a bit,” the witch mumbled.  “However, I think you will find that your choice of a successor may end up being part of the family after all...”

He blinked a bit, not immediately comprehending what had been said.

“The girl no longer has one of her own, you see,” the witch explained.  “The people she went back to save at the end, who she was unable to reach… they were her parents.”

With that, she mounted her broom and began to hover several feet off of the dock.  She sniffed the air for a moment, as if testing to see if it had begun to smell like Earth’s familiar ocean once again rather than the fragment of another that had been transplanted there earlier that day, and then took off flying across the sea so quickly that it seemed a miracle that her hat didn’t go tumbling backward off of her head.  Within seconds, she had left the islands behind, leaving the former Barfoo Guardian and his young successor alone on the rickety old dock.

“It’s done, then,” he said, glancing down at the still-unconscious girl, whose hand appeared to have instinctively grasped the handle of the fish-sword rather tightly.  “Whoever you are… whoever you were before.  Now you’re part of somethin’ you probably never knew existed just a couple hours ago...”

He knelt to the ground again, placing his hand over her head just like before.  And, just as she was finally beginning to stir toward consciousness, he closed his eyes and spoke what would be the first words she would remember hearing after the storm had passed.

“May the wings of the Barfoo carry you through this new life…”

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