Time: Thursday, 26 August, 1999
Place: The Fiendish Glow, and a park in Toronto
Follows: Desperately Seeking Scotswoman
Pen, MacHeather, Chris, Lucius and are real and are used with permission.
Deirdre, Father Andrew, and Ronnie O'Mannion are fictional and belong to the Fiendish Glow.
[In the fantastic land of the Faer, unknown time, unknown place...]
If rats came in human sizes, he could have been mistaken for one. Not that he would have realized it, of course -- nobody ever realizes when he or she is dressed ridiculously, unless it's done on purpose. This wasn't done on purpose. Actually, it was done on purpose -- but not the purpose of looking like an oversized super-rat carrying an oversized tartan backpack. On the other hand, the strangely-dressed folk in Faery-Land did tend to give him the large amount of personal space that his hero status demanded, and never once questioned that there was something kicking and screaming in his pack.
And so it was that William "Dunbar" Wallace had saved this woman of his dreams from the evil Longfangs, King Nunkward the Vampst.
And aided by Father Andrew, who married them in secret, they hid just outside the realm of King Nunkward and his army of Secret Sheriffs -- so-called because of their Sheriffmuir-styled livery(1) -- who were tasked with the recovery and return of all fugitive Addicts sworn, many against their wills, to serve King Nunkward all of their days.
Now that King Nunkward had been driven back by the mortalness spelled upon him by other enemies, Dunbar Wallace was returning to Toronto in secret, with the wife he had won according to all ancient traditions.
He would not need to keep secret much longer.
After a fortnight of trials and travels, the Faer Folk had finally granted him the boon of passage through their kingdom and an audience with their monarch, Queen Mab. He furrowed his brow pensively, wondering why he could remember nothing of that evening other than her strangely-lit sceptre. Must've been something in the heather beer... the next thing he remembered, he was crawling through a maze of tunnels with his prize on his back.
"An' ye shall know it by its fiendish glow," the passage had said. As he reached the end of the tunnel a door slid open magically, and a sign stood before him, proclaiming boldly that this was the site of the Fiendish Glow. Still carrying his tartan sack, Dunbar Wallace walked through the doors and into the appointed location.
"I am Dunbar of Wallace," he cried, setting down his sack and drawing his claymore, "and I have come to reclaim my place as the lord of this manor!"
The Fiendish Glow, Saturday, 28 August, about 1900 Eastern Daylight Time
"Pen, Brenda, come quick!" Deirdre panted, having run to the office from the pub's bar.
"Should we alert Security?" Pen asked as the two of them locked their computer screens and followed the head waitress back out into the public area.
He stood three meters inside the door, wearing only a linen tunic and a large rabbit-fur cloak, brandishing a large stake hefted like a sword, and possessively holding a tartan sack to his side.
"I am Dunbar of Wallace!" he cried.
The two women looked at the furred creature, looked at each other, and looked back at the creature again. "Chris?" they asked tentatively. "MacHeather?"
A noise sounding suspiciously like "mmmmpphffff-hmmfff" came from the tartan bundle.
"I am Dunbar of Wallace! and I have come to reclaim my place among the free people of Scotland!"
"Um, Chris?" Pen asked. "Are you all right?"
"Mmmmmppphffff" came from the wrapped tartan.
"Only one way to tell," Brenda said. "Lemme get Lucius. Tell Security to keep an eye out, just in case."
"I'm on it, babe," Pen replied as Brenda scurried out of the room.
---FLASHBACK---
[Father Andrew's Safehouse, Thursday 26 August, some time in the evening.]
*Mmnnhpphfff* he mumbled as he rolled over beneath the tartan cover he shared with his new wife. He got an elbow in his side for the effort.
"Heather," he sighed, rising onto one elbow, spying at the scrap of red cloth underneath a mass of red ringlets, and remembering the vows they had taken before Father Andrew earlier in the day.
*Mmmngfff*, he heard as she pulled him back down under the breaccan faile.
In less than the time it takes to snore, he was out like a light.
[A few hours later]
"Heather, my bonnie Heather," he sighed, looking at the woman lying beside him. His reverie was interrupted by the sound of hooves outside the sheiling."Open up! Open up! By order of the King!"
"I know nae king, an' ye'll no' enter my cot wi'oot me pairmission."
"Then I arrest thee in the name of King Nunkward the Vampst, on the charge of refusing entry to His Majesty's soldiers, and refusal of their rights to your women.
"No' prima nocte!" he shouted, bundling his wife in his breaccan faile and forging an entrance through the straw-covered wall in back.
"In person," a deep, somber voice said, as the order was given to advance the cavalry over the summer shanty.
The last thing he remembered seeing was Prima Nocte himself, wearing a black Sheriffmuir and woolen trews.
"AAaaauuuuugggghhhhhhhhh!!!!" he cried, and then the world went black.
He awoke shaking, shivering, remembering every moment of the terror the English had just foisted upon him. He didn't remember how he got to the place he was at, but it looked solidly built, and the countryside seemed quiet.
Then it hit him. Heather. His bonnie wife Heather. Where was she?
"Heather? Heather? Where are ye?"
"Mmpphhfff?"
"Ach, thank Goodness ye're still here. We've go' tae get awa' quickly, afore King Nunkward's army finds oos agin."
"Mmnppphhhnnnfff???"
"Nae time for sma' talk, noo, we got tae get moovin'." Grabbing the ratty fur cloak hanging on a peg by the door and the shillelagh beside it, and grabbing the breaccan faile with his prize still wrapped within, he took off through the basement and started walking towards the haven that would be known only by its fiendish glow.
---END FLASHBACK---
It had taken some time, but Brenda finally managed to track down Lucius in his continued explorations of MacHeather's closet, and with the assistance of some yummy fish scraps from the kitchen, explained that she needed his immediate help. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be carried downstairs into the pub and placed in front of two plaidy-furry-smelly bundles. He nosed his way around the two statues, sensing something vaguely familiar and trying to find out what it was. He heard a muffled "Mmrmphff!" as he pawed and clawed over the bottom of the tartany bundle. He lifted his head to see if perhaps the familiar smell was coming from above him. Suddenly it hit him: Fur Man was carrying a giant pencil!!!
Pencil, pencil! I absolutely _must_ have that giant pencil! Lucius thought, picking up his pace and choosing an approach path. Finally, he stepped away a bit, turned back around and ran, gathering speed. UP he jumped, onto the tartan bundle, which began slipping under his paws. Claw, claw, he dug in, each time trying to get a bit closer to his goal. Finally, he reached the top of the once-tartan-covered sack and felt something familiar. Hair. Red hair. MacMommy's red hair. He paused a moment, then shook his head, regaining command of his goal: the giant pencil. From Heather's head, he leapt up onto Fur Man's shoulders, then his head, then scurried up his arm to grab the giant pencil he held aloft...
"I don't know about this," Pen said, watching the cat nose around the Chris look-alike and the tartan sack. "It doesn't look like they're familiar to him at all."
"Maybe not," Brenda said as Lucius walked away, "maybe not."
Then the cat turned around, ran, and *POUNCED* on the tartan-covered bundle.
"Watch out!" the older woman cried as the cat began its slippery climb.
"MacHeather!" they cried as the redhead's hair and face were exposed. "Welcome home!"
Lucius chose that moment to pounce to the top of "Dunbar Wallace's" upraised stake, destabilizing the man's grip and causing cat, stake, man, woman, and friends to come noisily crashing to the ground, taking out a table and two Breuer chairs in the process.
*CRASH*!!!!
The noise could be heard throughout the Fiendish Glow -- and like civilians in a bombing zone, staff and customers alike moved towards the source of the noise.
"Shall I tuyke them out?" Ronnie O'Mannion, the bouncer, asked Pen.
"Not just yet," she told him.
Sheepishly, disoriented, the fur-wrapped bundle lifted its head as a black feline walked across it.
"Hello, Lucius," it said, looking at the cat. "I'd like you to meet my wife, MacHeather."
The cat turned around, shoved its tail down across the man's face, and started pawing at the tartan beside it.
"Here, Kitty, kitty, kitty," said the wrapped bundle of tartan.
Lucius ignored the sounds and went straight for the swatch of red fabric hidden in the woman's bosom.
"Yeowch!" she screamed, trying to rescue the fabric while keeping the claws away from her glowing pale decolletage.
Pen reached down to take the cat away while the woman untangled herself from the mess of tartan she was wrapped in and went over to her fur-clad partner.
"Chris?" she asked, slightly shaking the figure beside her. "Chris, sweetie?"
"Aarrrggghhh! me head!" he complained, then took a look around him. "The Fiendish Glow?" he asked. "What are we doing here?"
"You've brought me back home, remember?"
"Aye," he said hesitantly, rising, then catching sight of the red fabric once more safely tucked into her bosom. "It's true, then?" he asked her.
She nodded happily. "It's true."
Chris Dunbar "Wallace" possessively placed an arm about MacHeather's waist and kissed her lovingly while the crowd watched on, unsure of how to react.
"Father Andrew married us Thursday," Chris told the crowd. "I'd like to formally introduce my wife, Heather Poinsett-Dunbar."
Over the murmurs and whispers of the crowd, a deep voice could be heard shouting, "Drinks for the House!", while the band switched from Celtic rock to Mairi's Wedding, and several of the customers and staff started dancing.
"Ceilidh(2) time," Brenda and Pen nodded at each other. "You call the other factions, I'll post signs on the doors."
"Go upstairs. Shower. Then come back down when you're decent," Pen told the couple as Brenda went off to warn the kitchen and phone the other factions.
Meanwhile Lucius, Destroyer of Pens, having captured the giant "pencil", dragged it and the fur cloak into a corner and settled down for a catnap.
---INVITATION---
At the conclusion of this post, everyone participating in the WAR was INVITED to participate in this Celtic celebration. Food, drink, music, and dancing for all to help celebrate Chris and Heather's fictional wedding, and wish them happiness for their real-life wedding, which was held shortly afterward.
(1) Sheriffmuir: In "traditional" Highland attire, a Sheriffmuir Coat (jacket) is the equivalent of a tailcoat. The name was used here for its alliteration, not for its accuracy.
(2) Ceilidh (pronounced "KAY lee"): Celtic party, including lots of drinking, music, dancing, and socializing.
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NEXT STORY: STEP WE GAILY, ON WE GO...
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