The Goobers have walked us for half a morning through the ruins of yet another city. This must once have been a metropolis larger than New York. (Why can’t I get my hands on a city this big? I promise I’d take good care of it…)
I have tried to get a history of this place out of the Goobers, but there is only so much one can accomplish with Yes/No. Is it more than 100 years old? [Yes.] More than 1,000? [Yes.] Did your people build it? [Confusion. ] Did another race build it? [Babbling.] Interesting… How about: Do all of you belong to the same race? [No.] Very interesting. Is your leader like any of you? [Yes] and [no.] Very, very interesting.
How can I use this to my advantage? Perhaps there is a power struggle or bitter feeling between peoples which I can exploit? If there is no way of leaving this place, I might as well rule.
(a bit later)
Now we are in a part of the city that appears to be still inhabited. Bulbous eyes peer at us from windows large and small. Small Goobers are running after us—we have acquired a misshapen, rubbery tail of gibbering smalls. (I do not know if they are young or merely small. No two are alike.)
Up ahead is what can only be described as a palace. Its white and green stone shines in the sunlight. I like. It appears we are to enter. Vast, cool halls stretch out in every direction from enormous rooms. I could get used to this. We go up stairs and down stairs and around corners and finally stop before two immense doors. Is it here where we meet your leader? A gurgled [yes] and the doors open.
We go in, and facing us across an immeasurable expanse of cool white marble is the biggest, greenest creature I have ever seen. He makes the Hulk look puny. And pretty. Slowly, Sigyn and I cross the floor while our escort shuffles around the doorway looking awed.
I will not kneel. Monarch to monarch (king? president?), I bow briefly, and Sigyn curtsies. (Which would be more effective if she were in a gown befitting her beauty and not in travel-worn garb. I must find something else for her to wear.)
The Great Goober speaks first. I can understand him–just. The tentacles do not help matters. “Greetings. I am <unpronounceable>, king of <unspellable.>
“I am Loki, rightful King of Asgard and future King of Midgard. And this is my…Sigyn.”
“What do you do here in my realm?”
“My powerful magic carried us to this world. We have lost our way and require–”
His beady eyes narrow. “Magic? I am the most powerful magician! You call yourself a sorcerer? You have powers? What can you do?”
“I…Yes. I have mighty–”
“I must have your power! I shall consume you and it shall be mine!”
Augh!! This is the end for us!
“Sigyn! I’m sorry! I love y–”