As you travelled to Port Foozle, the Inquisivision broadcast still played in your mind. “Propaganda on Parade!” began the announcer. “Brought to you by Frobozz Electric, makers of the Frobozz Electric Totemizer! Frobozz Electric: we bring bad things to light! Thirty-fourth of Frobuary, 1067 GUE, Eastlands. Port Foozle liberated! Empire freed from tyranny of magic! Gone are the days of turning castles into fudge, and eggs into ripe guano, Gone are the Grues and granola, the Flatheads and the foolishness. Today, the Magic Wars are over!” The announcer was then replaced by Grand Inquisitor Mir Yannick making an announcement.
“Shun magic,” he ordered, “and shun the appearance of magic! Shun everything! And then, shun shunning!”
“So said the Grand Inquisitor from atop Flathead Mesa,” continued the announcer, “where the grateful masses thronged to welcome Inquisition troops to newly-occupied Port Foozle. The Third Dungeon Master has accepted the Inquisitor’s generous offer of a permanent vacation. Today, the Dungeon Master read a brief, but impassioned, statement in support of the transitional Inquisition government. Rumors that the Dungeon Master is leading a so-called Magic Resistance are entirely false.” You snorted when that bit replayed in your head. You wanted to learn magic, but, because of magic fading from the Empire, you were stuck becoming a Frobozz Vacuum seller. “In other news,” the announcer continued in your head, “the standoff at the Enchanter’s Guild ended peacefully last week when the Enchanters were freed from themselves by caring Inquisition troops.” That elicited another snort from you. “Concerned citizens everywhere searched high and low for hidden scrolls and magic contraband, voluntarily purging themselves of the worst excesses of the Magic Revolution. And, finally, at tomorrow’s ceremony, the Grand Inquisitor is expected to announce a radical, new mind-numbing technology that will implement his visionary ‘One Point of Light’ program.”
“Never forget who is the boss of you,” boomed Yannick. “ME! I AM THE BOSS OF YOU! I AM THE BOSS OF YOU!” That phrase repeated in your head as you remembered the footage of a wrecking ball smashing the mailbox of the Historic White House, condemned by Yannick.
“Curfew will begin in one second,” said a loudspeaker, snapping you out of your thoughts. You were at a crossroads and there were two signs pointed in either direction. One pointed towards Port Foozle, the other said “Elsewhere”.
“Wait, curfew?!” you yelped.
“CURFEW!” shouted the loudspeaker attached to the sign. “Curfew has begun. Curfew began one second ago. Curfew began five seconds ago.” It then went on like that for a while. You grumbled on your way to the town’s limits. All you had to your name was the vacuum cleaner and the rope you got from Frobozz Electric’s sign stating how many it totemized daily. It was hung up as a hangman’s noose, but you felt it could have another use, so you undid it and stuffed it into your pack. As you approached Port Foozle, you noticed a strange blue glow coming from the town. You proceeded to follow the glow to Foozle. It faded as you got closer. You figured now would be a great time to get the vacuum cleaner sold. Curfew was actually a perfect time for you. You had a pass saying you could break it as you were working for Frobozz Electric. However, no one was looking to buy it. You then heard a shop keeper.
“FISH HEADS!” she shouted. “FISH HEADS! GET YOUR ROLY POLY FISH HEADS!”
“Fish heads?” you muttered to yourself. You then heard your stomach rumble, so you try to swipe a fish. No way was Frobozz Electric going to cover it with the pitiful salary they give you. However, an alarm sounded at your attempt at theft. The shop keeper came out, swinging her rolling pin!
“Trying to steal my fish?!” she roared. “Get your own!”
“Come on!” you wailed. “I’m hungry!”
“Look, it’s past curfew!” said the shop keeper. “You’re lucky I don’t turn you in just for hanging around my shop! Now get out of here!” When she was satisfied you were far enough from her shop, the shop keeper returned inside. Your stomach gave you more anguish.
“Shut up!” you shouted at it. “I just had a salad an hour ago! What more do you want from me?!” Your stomach rumbled again. “Look, the ‘nice’ lady won’t give us anything with protein!” you said, trying to appeal to your stomach’s sense of logic. “She doesn’t have a pass like we do to break curfew!” Your stomach wasn’t in a logical mood as it growled again. “You know what, between you and the propaganda machine blaring in the background, I can’t think straight!” The machine you were talking about was next to the fish shop. All of a sudden, it gave you an idea. The Frobozz Electric Propaganda Megaphone was a project you were forced to work on, so you knew how to operate it. It had three settings. The highest was titled “That’s the Spirit”, middle was called “Same as the Rest”, and the last level was “Any Lower and…”. Someone had put packing tape below that and scrawled “…you will be totemized.” You pressed the green button, bringing the volume up to its highest position. The shop keeper heard it.
“Would somebody turn that damn speaker down?!” she shouted. “I can’t hear anything over that racket!” You decided to chance it! You safely swiped the fish and discovered a can of Mead Lite, still attached to the six-pack can holder. Once you got a safe distance away, you cooked your fish and ate it, your stomach appreciating the meal. You then turned the volume back to “Same as the Rest”. After that, you found a building that you hadn’t visited. It was a pawn shop with a sign saying, “Lanterns Repaired”.
“Lanterns,” you whispered with a hint of dreaminess. You then knocked on the door and a panel on the door slid open to reveal a person’s eyes. The eyes looked familiar.
“No autographs!” barked the person. “I don’t do that anymore. Now beat it! Scram!” He shut the panel.
“Was that…no…it can’t be,” you muttered to yourself. You knocked again. “Sir?!” you call. The man came back.
“It’s past curfew,” he responded, “and I can’t afford any trouble. I can’t afford jack, and I AM Jack!” He shut the panel again.
“…It has to be!” you said to yourself. You then knocked again. Jack came back.
“I let you in,” he grumbled, “they bust me, you walk, and I go to jail! No thanks, go find yourself another patsy!”
“But I’m not looking for refuge!” you protested as you produced the vacuum cleaner. “I work for Frobozz Electric and have an excellent deal for you and your floors!” Jack wasn’t having it.
“No, that’s all right. YOU keep it.” As he was shutting the panel, you produced the Mead Lite.
“But, perhaps you need a nice, refreshing-!”
“Mead Lite? Do I look like the kind of a guy who drinks light mead? Besides, I don’t drink anything that’s attached to…that thing, you know, the one that kills the fish.” He shut the panel and you decided to give up with him. You looked around and saw a very faint blue glow by the docks, just as the propaganda megaphone said that the rumors surrounding it were grossly exaggerated and any investigations surrounding it not conducted by the Inquisition would result in totemization. You found an automatic hook by the docks, used to replace the old fishing rod method. You figured that another fish would ensure that you had breakfast tomorrow, so you lowered the hook. You waited a bit before something tugged the line, causing it to go up and reveal a large fish with a horn between its eyes. It then spoke!
“You wouldn’t be fishing for anything in particular, now would you?” it asked “Cause, see, I’m a fish, and you’re, you know, fishing, so I gotta ask…” Its demeanor then changed. “YOU WANNA PIECE OF ME, DOCK BOY! Or dock girl, I can’t really tell, all you people look the same.” He then back-flipped off the hook.
“Now THAT’S a meal!” you said. You then remembered Jack saying that the six-pack holder kills fish, so you took it off the Mead Lite can and attach it to the hook before lowering it again.
“HELP…ME!” the fish choked under the waves “CAN’T…BREATHE! LOW…PAIN…THRESHOLD!” It then gave up, saying “I have shamed the family!” The hook then brought something up that WASN’T the fish! It was a box of something. You opened the box to reveal a red lantern.
“You’re not food!” you wailed. Then, you remembered. The pawn shop said it could repair lanterns. Time to see if it was a bait-and-switch or not. You return to the pawn shop and knock again. Jack opened the panel.
“Look, I already told you-!” he began. He stopped when he clapped eyes on the lantern. “Holy Hungus!” He shut the panel before opening the door to reveal… you couldn’t believe it! It was him!
“ANTHARIA JACK!” you squeed. Yes, it was him! The famous Movie Star from the Great Underground Adventure series! You were a real big fan of his when you were a child!
“Yeah, yeah, that’s me!” said Jack. He then took the lantern and held it up to admire it. “A genuine lantern! Looks like that one I had with me when I killed that troll with my rusty knife in Great Underground Adventure IV.” Now that you look at it, the lantern DID look the exact shape and shade of red like the one Jack used.
“It was pretty hard to come by, Jack!” you exclaimed, still giddy at meeting your childhood hero.
“That, I can believe,” assured Jack. “Nowadays, all you get are flashlights, courtesy of Frobozz Electric.” He then remembered something about you. “Weren’t you selling a vacuum cleaner on their behalf?”
“Yeah,” you admitted. “I work for them. I worked on the flashlight project among various other-.” you were interrupted by the lantern sparking, spooking the both of you.
“Get in here!” invited Jack. You noticed a brief look of fear on him, but decided he was just startled, so you followed him inside. He led you to his counter and set the lantern down while grabbing a cigar with an automatic starter on it. “Go ahead,” he offered as he presented the case of cigars. “I heisted a whole crate off the Inquisition.” Your eyes went wide with admiration as the thought of Antharia Jack stealing cigars from Mir Yannick himself rampaged across your mind. “Well,” Jack elaborated, “I know a guy who knows a guy who heisted a whole crate off the Inquisition. And, I paid him. Now, where’s my wrench?” He made his way to the back to get said tool. You looked at the cigars and took one. Your uncle would love it. Jack came back with the wrench. He sighed as he examined the lantern. “Looks like this lamp has seen some action,” he observed.
“How can you tell?” you asked.
“Got a lot of carbon scoring here,” explained Jack as he took the wrench and started tightening the top with it. “Let’s see if we can’t just…take a little…” he strained as he turned. Just then, the lantern sparked again! Jack backed away a bit as it sparked. “What’s making it spark like that?”
“You’re the guy who fixes these things!” you protested. “You tell me!” Jack sniffed the air.
“You smell…spenseweed?” he asked. You then sniffed the air.
“There IS a distinct spenseweed smell here,” you confirmed. The lantern then started sparking again, continuously! A male voice could be heard over the sparking!
“Where am I?!” it asked. Jack then took out a tennis racket.
“Let me handle this!” he said. He then started whacking the lantern. The voice then started saying “OW!” at every hit.
“CUT IT OUT!” demanded the voice. The sparking and voice then stopped.
“I don’t believe it!” you breathed. “It’s a magic lantern!”
“Hope nobody saw you come in with that lantern!” gasped Jack.
“Come on!” you exclaimed. “This lantern may be the key in restoring magic to the Empire!”
“What are you babbling about?!” asked Jack.
“…Th-there’s an adventure,” you explained, confused at Jack’s reaction. “We need to bring magic back.”
“No, we don’t!” snapped Jack. “YOU’RE getting out of here and I’M turning this thing in to the Inquisition tomorrow morning!”
“WHAT?! But you’re Antharia Jack, the Great Adventurer! Not some flunky for the Inquisition!”
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not a real adventurer! I just played one on T.V. I couldn’t find my way out of a maze if you paid me.” He then reconsidered his words. “Well, maybe if you paid me a lot.”
“…The money?” you said as a tear of betrayal went down your cheek. “You’re just in it for the money?” You couldn’t believe it; your childhood hero was a phony.
“Look,” snapped Jack as he pointed at the lantern, “this thing is magic! It’s been a while, but I know it when I see it! Trust me, you DON’T want this lamp! Now SCRAM!” He then shoved you out of the shop.