Logan the Logical in Narlee
The sun shined down on the fertile soil of a land unknown to Logan the Logical. His journeys had taken him to lands both bizarre and weird, and his logical mind lead him to believe that this would be no different. His teal tunic hung loose on his lanky frame and his brown hair spilled out from under his stylish teal chapeau.
A sign post appeared over the horizon and as Logan walked, he wondered what it said. He kept wondering until he read the sign and then he stopped wondering.
AHEAD LIES THE TOWN OF NARLEE
STRANGERS ARE NOT WELCOMED
Logan checked his food reserves and found only a single s’more remaining and knew he’d have to venture into Narlee, despite the sign’s warning. Logic had never failed Logan on his many wanderings into hostile areas, and he now deduced that it wouldn’t on this occasion either. Removing his trusty sword from its teal scabbard, and keeping his untrusty sword slung on his back, Logan slashed the sign, altering its message.
STRANGERS ARE N⃫O⃫T⃫ WELCOMED
“The town of Narlee clearly welcomes strangers, thus I may make use of its inn and s’more markets,” Logan said to himself, making it true. “I shall take the sign with me to prove this fact.” Logan ripped the sign out of the soil and dragged it with him like a drunken friend who had dug himself into soil.
The town of Narlee quickly came into view. Stone huts stood alongside a wide trail worn down over many centuries of foot traffic. Droop trees, the most prevalent vegetation, provided shade against the harsh sun’s rays and swayed in the breeze. Logan noticed shadowy figures peering through their small windows as he made his way to the center of town, but none left their huts to ask shadowy questions to Logan.
A large, winding stairway of carved stone stood in the middle of the town square. Logan noticed right away that the most peculiar aspect of the stairway was that it lead to nowhere. Roughly 30 feet up the steps ended out into thin air. The second most peculiar aspect was that at the top of the stairway was a hunched over man working furiously with a chisel, chipping away at the stone. The third most peculiar aspect was that the man was old. Quite peculiar.
“Greetings,” yelled Logan. “I am a humble traveler of the greatest sort. Might you direct me to your market and a place I may lodge for the evening? If so, I will commend your stairway. If not, I shall curse it with all of my might and it shall never be considered one of the best stairways in the land!”
Upon hearing Logan, the man quit chiselling and rushed down the stairs at a speed that betrayed his old age. When he reached the ground, Logan noted his long beard was littered with stone fragments and his garb was fashioned from the strong leaves of the droop tree. With his chisel raised, he approached Logan.
“What are you doing here? Strangers are not welcomed in Narlee! You must leave at once or you put all of our lives at risk!”
“Nonsense! I have your sign right here and it clearly welcomes strangers of all sorts!” Logan threw the sign at the old worker who caught it with his forehead. After rising from the ground, the old man inspected the sign.
“The sign has been changed by a trickster! It is supposed to forbid entry, not entice it!”
“Do you accuse me of trickery? If so, I accuse you of trickery as well! If not, then I agree with you.”
“I do not accuse you, traveler,” said the man. “Narlee is an ill-fated town where nothing good, even a simple sign, can remain untainted. I am Progo, the stairman.”
“I am Logan the Logical! You are building a fine gateway to wherever it is you are building, Progo.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong,” said Progo, causing Logan to immediately hate him. “As a stairman, it is my duty to disassemble this evil portal to the heavens! Thousands of years ago the people of Narlee built the stairway to meet and praise their god, Graun, but when they reached the heavens, Graun was not there. They had miscalculated Graun’s location and accidentally built the stairway into the realm of Zarg, a god of unimaginable evil. Zarg was angered by the intrusion and came down the stairway and wreaked havoc. He smashed huts, ruined crops, and caused the droop trees to droop!”
“Ah, hence the name!” added Logan.
“No, even when they stood strong and straight they were known as droop trees because every other name for a tree had been used,” said Progo who shuffled to avoid the sign Logan threw at him for a second time. “After his rampage, Zarg announced that just as he would not have strangers imposing on his godly realm, no strangers must enter Narlee or he would return to teach us a murderous lesson once more. Since then, one citizen of Narlee has always worked as a stairman, a worker constantly chipping away at Zarg’s means of reaching our town. Despite the task being nearly finished, as long as a single step remains, he may strike! Now do you see why you must leave immediately?”
“Perhaps, but why does your god Graun not protect you from Zarg?”
“Graun has more important things to do than protect his believers! He is the god of clouds and must keep them afloat!”
Logan turned his gaze upwards. “Yet, old man, look to the sky and notice. There is not a single cloud at the moment! Surely, Graun now has time to thwart Zarg.”
Progo chuckled and slapped Logan’s arm. “Graun is now busy making new clouds, of course!”
Logan was about to pummel the old man for slapping his pummeling arm, but he immediately noticed that all of the shadowy figures had left their huts and were now crowded around him and the stairman. He also noticed that in the sunlight none of them were actually shadowy. He’d have to be careful. If they lied to his eyes about their shadowy nature earlier, they could lie again. Liars were rarely known to lie but once.
One burly man stepped forward. “Progo, why is this stranger in our town? Why are you not working to destroy the stairway to Zarg? Why is the town’s sign ruined? Why why why?” Logan knew at once this man must be the town questioner.
Logan did not believe in having another man speak for him which is why he had wounded so many translators in the past. “I am Logan the Logical. I have come to your town to stock up on s’mores and to spend the night. Progo ceased his stair work to inform me of your town’s troubles. The town’s sign is not ruined. That’s how it always has been. You merely are not observant. Now please arrange the town’s most teal room for me.”
“The only thing that shall be arranged is your immediate removal from Narlee!” said the burly man. The townspeople rushed at Logan and began dragging him out of the town. Accustomed to being dragged by townspeople, Logan knew exactly how to arrange his body to offer the most resistance. However, realizing he was fighting a losing battle, Logan decided he would rather fight a winning battle.
“Zarg! The people of Narlee have welcomed a stranger into their town, violating your order! They also claim your name is silly and that you spend your days trying to come up with a better name, but are too stupid to do so!”
A crack of thunder echoed throughout Narlee and the sky turned a dark shade of crimson. The townspeople dropped Logan to the ground and gazed up at the top of the stairs where a black beast hulked. Zarg was 25 stoop trees tall and 10 stoop trees wide. Tusks dripping an acrid liquid adorned his garish, hairy face. A crown composed of hundreds of smaller crowns sat atop Zarg’s jagged, bony head. The evil god rushed down the steps.
The townspeople scrambled back towards their huts. Only Progo helped Logan to his feet. “Come! We must get to safety!” Before they could get far, Zarg’s clawed feet slammed onto the ground, causing the entire town to shake in just the way town’s aren’t meant to shake. “We will be safe in my hut!” Progo pointed to a sturdy looking structure in the distance that Zarg immediately demolished with his mind. “No! My wife and daughter! They would’ve lived there if they hadn’t left me!” Logan brought Progo to his senses by elbowing him in the neck and the two ran away from Zarg’s rampage.
The angry god destroyed everything in his path. Huts, carriages, paddocks, storehouses of the finest s’mores, and statues of Graun forging clouds instead of helping his believers were obliterated by swings of Zarg’s mighty arms and thought-swings from his mighty mind.
Seeing the frailty of their huts, the rest of the townspeople had gathered behind a large boulder that the town had meant to get rid of but never found the time or strength to do so. When Progo and Logan joined them in hiding, curses were thrown at the teal traveler.
A large man, 0.75 stoop trees tall and 0.25 stoop trees wide, grabbed Logan by the shoulders. “You have brought Zarg upon us and doomed Narlee! You will die by your own blade!” The man grabbed the untrusty sword from Logan’s back and swung the blade at his throat, yet, being an untrusty weapon, the sword missed its target and spun backwards, stabbing the large man in the lung. “Ah! My good lung!” The man gasped for life until he gasped for death instead.
Logan grabbed the untrusty sword and placed it back in its scabbard. “Your friend killed himself. I will accept no blame. In fact, I will only accept compensation for bloodying up my sword. How does a new teal tunic sound? It sounds fair and just to me! Me, a fair and just judge of that which is fair and just.”
Before an agreement could be made between Logan and the others, Zarg grabbed the giant boulder serving as their hiding place. He lifted the massive rock over his head and issued a booming proclamation.
“PEOPLE OF NARLEE, ALLOWING A STRANGER INTO YOUR TOWN HAS BROKEN OUR ACCORD! FOR THIS YOU SHALL ALL DIE!”
Logan stepped up to the god and waved to get his attention.
“No, Logan!” said Progo. “Zarg is not one for conversations!”
“I am the reason for his summoning, thus I must make things right!” Logan stepped even closer to the beastly goliath.
“Powerful Zarg, I, Logan the Logical, am the stranger you speak of, and looking at the destruction and fear you have brought to these gentle people, I must beseech you to understand that since I am not a citizen of the town, you should let me live and give me directions to the nearest, non-cursed town.”
“Logan!” screamed Progo. “You dastard!”
Logan placed a finger in front of his lips and turned to Progo. “Hush, old man! It is all part of a plan of the utmost logic that will save your town!”
Zarg mulled over Logan’s words and finally shook the air with an answer.
“MY FEUD IS ONLY WITH THE INTRUSIVE PEOPLE OF NARLEE! YOU MAY LEAVE! THE TOWN OF TRONBOR IS A DAY’S JOURNEY EAST OF HERE AND IT IS NON-CURSED!”
“A day’s journey? Really, Zarg? Is there nothing closer? C’mon!”
“NOT THAT I AM AWARE OF!”
“Ah, but what of that town that I see on the horizon directly behind you? Surely that is closer.”
Zarg turned around to see the town Logan spoke of, but he saw only an open vista. “WHAT TOWN DO YOU SPEAK OF? UNLESS IT IS INVISIBLE, I DO NOT SEE IT!”
While Zarg was turned and wondering if an invisible town had recently been built, Logan ran up to the closest clawed foot and plunged his trusty sword deep into the godly tendon. Zarg yelled out in anguish and lost hold of the boulder above his head. The massive hunk of rock smashed through the evil being’s crown of crowns and directly into his skull. Zarg crumpled to the ground as Logan nimbly dodged out of the way.
The massive wound gushed torrents of purple blood drenched the soil of Narlee, killing all vegetation and melting the remaining standing huts and buildings. Coming into contact with the blood, the town’s stoop trees quit their stooping and stood tall and strong seconds before exploding, firing shrapnel of bark and branches all around, killing many citizens and injuring the rest. Logan used his incomparable logic to avoid injury by hiding behind the fattest child of Narlee.
Standing up from behind the child’s corpse, Logan surveyed the scene of utter destruction and rampant death. “By slaying Zarg, I have saved Narlee! A feast of your finest s’mores is in order! Progo, make it so!”
Progo crawled over to Logan, clutching the branch impaled through his chest. “Please, find my wife and daughter. Tell them I love them and give them this.” A glowing amulet was thrust into Logan’s hand. “It grants its wearer one wish for every good deed they do!”
Logan examined the wondrous amulet. “Why did you not use a use it to wish that the stairway would disappear or that Zarg would forgive your town or that Graun would put his clouds aside to save the town?”
“Because…” Progo tried to speak but coughed blood. “Because…” He tried again but sneezed blood. “Because…” He tried once more and cried blood, which while not good, still allowed him to speak. “Because, I never thought of that.” Blood dripped from the old man’s ears as he became a corpse, which Logan took as a sign allowing him to take whatever he wanted from the body.
“Well, since there is no town left to throw me a feast, I shall merely have to wish for one,” said Logan. He held the amulet in his hand. “Amulet, for the good deed I have done by slaying the evil god Zarg, grant me the greatest s’more feast that time has even known! Even grander than Supreme King Xurl’s Banquet of the Infinite S’Mores!”
The amulet remained inactive. Logan bopped it on its side. “This amulet is broken!”
A young girl staggered up to Logan. “No, it is because you have done no good deed! Killing Zarg did not-” Logan bopped the girl on her side with the amulet to quiet her down.
Weaving in between corpses and soon-to-be corpses, Logan left the town of Narlee. He tossed the amulet inside his satchel and removed his final s’more. Taking a bite of the delicious graham cracker, marshmallow, and chocolate medley, Logan the Logical stared to the heavens and could’ve sworn he saw a fluffy cloud appear out of nowhere that said, “Thanks for getting rid of those people for me, Logan. Yours truly, Graun,” but it might just have been the tastiness affecting his vision.
