We Were Indeed On Contrarian Soil
“Hey! Great minds, yeah?”- raising her voice and swearing at me
- adding it to my vocabulary
- in the most embarrassing place
- wants the elephant rather than the cash
Tune in next time part 588 Click Here for Earlier Installments
We were indeed on Contrarian soil. The shrine to Buzzlyncia meant these had to be the Isles of Bumpengrynd. They were a remote protectorate, claimed by William Penn VII mainly because no one else wanted them. The old saying is true: a Contrarian Warlord is a guy who wants the elephant rather than the cash.
Now that I had deduced our location, I knew we had to head west across the island to reach the only population center of any meaningful size. Twerkistan was built with the most demoralizing materials and situated in the most embarrassing place — at the base of a deep crack between two hills, where a geothermal vent emitted sulfurous fumes.
The paparazzo’s tracks in the snow led due west, so I knew he must already be hurrying back to Twerkistan. “If we hurry, we can catch him,” I said. The Tessabot nodded savagely and took off, calling the photog something so inventively obscene I needed a moment to decipher it before adding it to my vocabulary. This meant I wasn’t keeping up, so Tessa employed a stream of motivational profanity, raising her voice and swearing at me this time.
The snow was wet and heavy, slowing us both down. Especially me. But a few minutes into our trek we spotted a figure far ahead of us. Too far to have any hope of overtaking him under these conditions. Simultaneously, Tessa and I siezed branches from nearby trees and wove them into makeshift snowshoes.
“Hey! Great minds, yeah?” I said.
“This is basic Academy stuff,” the Tessabot replied. “Now, save your breath for running!”
bonus points for using them in reverse order