Chasing the Black Dragon, a tale.

[EK WAFFLR]

Also, new chapter will be finished today.

[Left]

Also, new chapter will be finished today.

*has an ooh shiny*

[EK WAFFLR]

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

[EK WAFFLR]

In his dream, Arthur is stranded in what looks to be a desert. The sky is rusty red, so is the ground. In the distance, he could see large mountains.
He was thirsty. He started walking towards the mountains.
He walked for what seemed like ages, but nothing changed. He was getting tired, dehydrated. Every muscle in his body ached. How long had he been walking?
Hours? Days? Arthur didn't know, and didn't care anymore. He fell, exhausted, face first to the ground.
More time passed, and Arthur didn't move. Not even when the noises started. It sounded like someone strangling a rabid cockatoo.
Then he heard what could only be foot steps. Arthur turned his head slightly, and saw a towering figure in a monk's robe, hood hiding its face. "Who are you?" Arthur asked.
The figure raised a bony hand and pointed at Arthur.
Distant thunder rumbled.

Chapter 2: Penny Blood

Arthur woke up sweating profusely, his heart pounding a Bavarian polka in his chest. He had only faint recollections of his dreams, but the faces of inhuman things lingered.
He got up and went to the bathroom wondering what the robed giant wanted.
In the kitchen, Carruthers had prepared a steaming hot cup of coffee. Arthur thanked his valet, and quietly started preparing for a life without tea.
Wen he was halfway through his second cup of coffee, he suddenly stood up, knocking over the chair he'd sat on.
"By God, Carruthers, I think the lack of tea has dulled my senses! Why don't I search the Internet for clues about this predicament?"
Carruthers raised a bushy eyebrow slightly, and picked up the chair.
"The Internet should provide some answers, sir. I am sorry I didn't think of that myself."
"Not to worry, Carruthers. It can happen to the best of us."

Arthur sat down in front of his computer, typing his query with one finger. He had never gotten the hang of the computer world, his expertise was in the area of drinking and smoking.
He searched for "tea shortage in London" on google, and started looking through the results. There was nothing. None of the newspapers said anything about it, not even the tabloids.
"How queer! Carruthers, what do you make of this?"
The valet besides Arthur, like a ghost at midnight.
"I'm afraid this has me as baffled as you, sir. I couldn't possibly venture to make a guess at this time. However, if I may be so bold as to suggest something,
you could take a look at the websites of the tea import companies. There might be something there."
"Brilliant idea, Carruthers! I shall do that at once. Fetch me a snifter of the good stuff, will you? I need a strengthening libation."
"Certainly sir", Carruthers said, and hovered towards the library, looking for all intents and purposes like he had tiny wheels under his Italian shoes.
Arthur started looking at the sites, starting with PG Tips. Nothing. Not a word. Same at Lipton. He took a sip of the whisky,
which his manservant had noiselessly placed at his right hand and vanished like a vampire at dawn in summertime.
His search yielded nothing. He decided to check me last site, a small company based in Yorkshire. He typed in the address.
The screen flashed like a 70's disco for a few seconds, then words started to appear.

THEY ARE COMING
The long, dark tea time of the world shall be without tea"

The screen went black, and then the site was automatically redirected back to google.
Arthur shook his head, sniggered a bit, and shut down his computer. 'bloody wankers' he thought, 'bloody, bloody wankers'.

Arthur sat in the back seat of his Cord with a flask of whisky in his hand. Carruthers was driving him to his favorite pub, the Horse and Feathers.
His only solution to the tea problem, in his mind was to get utterly and completely smashed. The stuff in his flask was starting to give results, and Arthur was humming old Boy George tunes.

At the pub, none of his regular drinking friends were present. The place was almost completely empty, other than a group of old men at a corner table.
They looked like fishermen. Arthur sat down at the bar, motioning for the barkeep.
"Tally-ho, Hollingberry! Give me a double Glenfiddich,  my good man."
"Righty, guv'nor" the barkeep said.
"Say, Hollingberry, have you heard anything about the tea shortage?"
Hollingberry was a kindly old man with a huge moustache, who had worked at the Horse and Feathers for as long as Arthur could remember,
and he was always affable, always had a kind word for his patrons, however smashed and unruly they were.
"Arthur, you know I don't have any tea here. I pride myself on having nothing lighter than strong ales in this establishment."
"I know, I know," said Arthur. "But perhaps you've heard rumors?"
"There's been some talk, but it seems nobody knows anything. Yesterday, some bloody loon whom I'd never seen before, came in,
got drunk and started talking about it being a conspiracy, and that the government has silenced any attempt to report it in the media. But you know how it is with those fellows.
Everything's a government cover up according to them."
Arthur nodded, and drained his glass. Hollingberry, knowing Arthur's habits, promptly topped it off.

As the evening went on, much like evenings tend to do, the Horse and Feathers became crowded.
Arthur, now quite inebriated, sat with a few of his friends at a table in the middle of the room, shouting rude jokes at each other, as they were wont to do.
Arthur was wearing what he called his 'Miami Vice' suit (much to Carruthers' dismay. He sorely wished that his employer would show a little more refinement in his clothing),
and had gone from drinking whisky to consuming colourful drinks with umbrellas in them, because the drinks had to match the suit, he said.
The topic inevitably turned to the tea shortage, and the group's theories were many, one of them being that there had been massive fires in the major tea regions,
and it had been hushed down so as to not wreck the economy. Another, not quite as coherent theory, coming from Clive Ravensdale, a friend of Arthur's from Cambridge,
where Ravensdale had been studying physics at Cavendish. His theory was that it all was a fluke in the time/space continuum, and that all the world's tea had been shifted to another dimension. Ravensdale had gone slightly mad after his post-doctorate.

Some time after midnight, Arthur had to go to the men's room. As he stumbled in the door, he saw a lady standing in front of the mirror.
"Oh, 'scuse me," he said. "I must've taken a wrong turn at Albequerque."
"Not at all," the woman said. "I'm the one who's in the wrong bathroom, I'm afraid. All the ladies' stalls were taken, you see."
"No worries, miss," Arthur said. He tried to straighten his tie, and pulled a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. Hitting on a lady in the men's room. '
You've got real class, Arthur,' a voice whispered in his ear. He disregarded it, and when he tried to suavely walk towards the lady, he tripped in his own feet,
fell forward and hit the sink with his forehead. Blood was streaming down his face, and the woman just laughed, then left the bathroom, saying something
Arthur wasn't able to discern. After that, things got a little blurry. Actually, it became total black.

Arthur woke up with a hangover from hell. He was still wearing his clothes, which were stained with blood and what looked like kebab.
"Christ almighty! What the hell happened?" he sat up in his bed, and found that he was clutching a post-it note. On one side it said: Meet me at the Camden Stables, 6PM. Don't be late. Penny.
The other side said: U wot m8?

Arthur ran to the bathroom to vomit.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Nice!

I like this, so far.

[Freeky]

I am fucking tickled by this!  I love it!  <3

[EK WAFFLR]

Nice!

I like this, so far.

Thank you, Nigel!

[EK WAFFLR]

I am fucking tickled by this!  I love it!  <3

Hooray! Thanks!

[EK WAFFLR]

I haven't forgotten about this. New chapter will be up on monday at the latest.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

I like the image of a proper British gentleman getting rowdy in a tavern in a 'Miami Vice' suit. That is hilarious.

[EK WAFFLR]

Chapter 3
In which Arthur starts smoking.

[/b]

"Carruthers! Fetch the Jag, will you? I have a meeting at Camden  Stables in two hours."
"Really, sir? With whom are you meeting at that place?"
"I don't know, Carruthers. I woke up with a note in my hand. Talking of, did I manage to get into bed by my own last night"
Carruthers cleared his throat, his slight "ahem" saying more than Arthur needed to know.
"Alright, Carruthers. I shan't ask. Rest assured, the bonus is forthcoming."
"Thank you, sir," Carruthers said, elevating his left eyebrow a fraction of an inch, as he was won't to do when he was happy about something.
"Now, my good man. What should I wear for a meeting at the Stables with someone whom I do not even remember meeting?"
"Tweed, sir. Green. White shirt. Burgundy cravat. I'll go find it, before I start up the Jaguar."
Carruthers hovered out the door.


They drove in silence in to London, Arthur brooding in the back seat, and his manservant being his stoic self. Arthur was staring out the window, looking at people and graffiti on the house walls. Kids these days had some strange ideas, he thought, noticing some large, black graffiti pieces, among other a very well done dragon, and, further up the same street, the words, THEY ARE COMING.
Arthur closed his eyes, and started to fall asleep. As the dreams came, he heard a faint word,
"Excuse me sir

Not far behind the jaguar, IT followed. IT had chosen it's prey. This one was a good one, IT thought. IT almost felt sorry IT didn't have a body of his own, so he could smile an evil smile. IT was infatuated with what the humans called 'Good and Evil'. IT was, IT had decided, definitely Evil. IT urged it's current host to drive a bit faster. This is a weird one, IT thought, the mental language was different from the hosts IT was used to. The language had vague hints of something IT had heard before, many centuries ago. Oh well, IT thought, let's focus on the task at hand. IT prodded the human IT was inhabiting to get closer to the prey's car. If IT had had a mouth, it would have grinned like the love child of Charles Manson and Elizabeth Bathory at this point

something occurred to me just now, sir," the manservant said.  Arthur's eyes shot open like eyes do at the end of particularly bad horror films.
"Whu..what? How long was I asleep, Carruthers?"
"Sir?"
"I had this weird dream, Carruthers, just now. I dreamt that something was looking for me, using its mesmerizing voice to lure me to whatever it was," Arthur said. The valet looked puzzled. It also looked like he struggled with remembering how to look puzzled.
"Sir, you haven't slept at all. You closed your eyes as I started asking my question, and kept them close for one second, at most."
"What? How can this be, Carruthers? I'm quite sure I dreamt for some time. Am I going insane?" Arthur rubbed his temples, then reached in his pocket for a cigarette. Arthur didn't really smoke, but occasionally he bought a pack when drunk, to offer the ladies.
"Might as well have one," he said. "No tea, dreaming while awake. This cannot be reality." He lit his smoke, taking a deep drag, coughing only slightly.
"I'm sure you are not mad, sir," Carruthers said. "We will figure out what is happening soon enough." He stopped the car.
"We're here, sir. You must walk from this point, I'm afraid." Arthur opened the door.
"Thank you, Carruthers. I only hope she'll find me. The Stables are quite big."
"Ah, yes, that was what I was wondering as well, sir. I will be waiting here when you get back."

Arthur got out of the car.

[Pope Pixie Pickle]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eELH0ivexKA

[EK WAFFLR]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eELH0ivexKA

Yup. That's where I got the title from. 

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Less cliff-hanger, more story!