Travelin' Goon

[Spiffy McBang]

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

Thump.....thump.....thump.

Thump.

Poof.

And there was Goon, floating through fluidic blue ether, white mists swirling around him and his flailing limbs. The sight was, as they say, lot pretty. The mists were like clouds, all soft and grabable, and thus Goon went to grabbing.

He didn't expect them to react.

Granted, it wasn't all bad. The face in the smoke was very pretty, as faces in smoke go. She even had fingers which started vanishing into Goon's vest. He didn't really notice, since they were ethereal and all, so it's a good thing even magical creatures can't always invade the personal black holes of others, like the one some nice mage sewed into Goon's vest long ago.

If wispy creatures from alternate dimensions can lose their cool, this one did a fine job of not falling prey to frustration. She kept smiling, stopped searching, and started whispering one word.

"Riiiiiiing....."

Goon blinked. Goon thought. Goon grinned. And Goon retrieved the ring.

You might assume this was the dastardly plan all along. The beautiful face turned horrible and ugly, and that would seem to back your assumption. When Goon dropped the ring from fright, the only thing which could keep him from being trapped in the ether forever, you would probably figure you were right on the money.

Up to that point, you were.

What was not taken into account was a double helping of Goon luck in the form of the ring falling directly onto the third finger of his right hand. That led to a double helping of spirit fear, a double helping of spirit escape, and a double helping of spirit failure, wrapped up in the whispering sound of a mighty Goon thump.

And a wraith was no more.

One down, umpteen bazillion to go.

Mildly concerned by the experience, Goon eventually found another hole in the ether which deposited him in a bright green field, sullied by neither man nor machine. Fields of wildflowers greeted him as far as the eye could see, even good eyes, which Goon didn't really have.

Actually, correction: Goon found his freedom approximiately fifty feet above a bright green field, sullied by neither man nor yadda yadda, wildflowers and all. The rent turf, full of Goon-print, spit a huge dust cloud upwards. A general with an army camped a half-mile off spotted the swirling debris and went to investigate.

When he arrived, a stranger was stumbling around, having only just been able to peel himself off the flattened grass. This giant (perhaps, given the general's good height and Goon's incredibly broad shoulders, "wide load" would be a more apt description) stared at him and scratched his head. He said something very strangely, or maybe it was just in a different language, but the behemoth continued to look unfazed in his cluelessness.

The general set his halberd in the ground and spoke again, more sharply. If his question went unheeded, he might have sought a duel. That would have been a very bad idea, but it proved unnecessary. There was a force at work which brought the words into focus, so that Goon heard clearly:

"Who are you? I am Guan Yu."

But spoke less clearly.

"Guano man lot hi!"

[Spiffy McBang]

Back at camp...

Goon was doing a fine job of wandering around, exploring, although it's not like he would remember a lot of what he saw. Where he walked, soldiers scattered. Where soldiers looked at him, he grinned back, nice and friendly, and they scattered a lot quicker. That kept confusing him until he ran into a soldier that didn't run away.

Tall and broad, with an eight-foot spear at his side, a man of great strength and equally powerful intoxication glared at Goon. Goon, not being terribly aggressive and having zero Demon Rum in him, backed away. The big, bearded man came and the bigger man retreated, over and over, some weird dance ritual that only those of imposing size can take part in. After awhile, the soldier set his spear aside and flexed his arms, calling out, "How about a match!"

A Goon is a Goon, and Goon in any era likes fight things lot good. Thus, wrasslin' ensued.

Around, above, and mostly through the surrounding tents they crashed, causing a rumble through the ground with each body slam and foot stomp. For an hour they battled tirelessly, tossing each other to and fro. The huge crowd which formed heard, alternately, perfectly worded encouragement (since, by a quirk of fate, Goon-ese and Chinese translated to the common tongue in the exact same way) and ancient Far East smack talk.

"Lot fun!"

"I'll eat your children!"

"Goon like fight thing!"

"Get up and come at me like a real man!"

"Fight lot good!"

"Your mother was a concubine, and your father smelt of kung pao chicken!"

Eventually, the drunkard began to pull it together, and he went ballistic with this crazy sumo-style hand slapping thing, even though they didn't know about sumo wrestling yet. A historian would have found it very odd. Since there weren't any present, a bunch of soldiers stood around and winced as Goon took open palms to the chest over and over and over and over ad nauseum. There was a pause.

"Lot ow."

And Goon, big Goon, heavy Goon, was flung mightily into the air!

As his opponent cheered, Goon came crashing down with the unerring accuracy of your garden-variety flailing boulder. After planting the bearded man into the ground, he rose wearily and was declared the victor, hailed by all as mightiest of warriors.

The other guy, meanwhile, was a much better sport sober. He jumped up and threw his arms around Goon.

"Lot hug thing?"

"You're pretty good! What's your name?"

"Goon be Goon!"

"Huh. No family name?"

"Goon no have lot big family thing." He looked crestfallen.

Some soldiers just couldn't stand to see a grown man cry, and an overgrown one was even worse. "Hey, I'll adopt you as my brother!"

Goon blinked. "Goon have lot big family thing?"

"Sure! I'm Zhang Fei. You can be a Zhang too! How's that sound?"

Grin, grin, and more grinning. "Lot good! Goon thank! Shank man lot lot nice!"

"Ha ha! Zhang Goon, ready for battle with brothers Zhang Fei and Guan Yu!" At that point, the man Goon had initially met stepped forth, stroking his long, luxurious beard with dramatic effect reserved only for the best and worst of kung-fu movies.

"Ha ha! As you say, brother Zhang Fei, we shall meet with our sworn brother and lord Liu Bei, and together smite the Yellow Turbans, bringing glory to the Han empire!"

It was a stirring speech, one which roused the fires of family, glory, and honorable battle in Goon's heart.

"Lot ha ha! Guano man, Shank man lot fun!"

And lo, they departed the next day.

[Spiffy McBang]

Swirling dust circled upwards from the beaten road. The vibrations of tramping feet stepping in orderly fashion, one, two, three, four, shook terra firma a half-mile distant. Another mile from the source, the army of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei marched. Both generals agreed it was the last time they took Goon up on an offer to scout ahead.

They heard the footsteps stop, over the crest of a hill. Calling a halt, Guan Yu strode boldly forward, with Zhang Fei beside him, striving to stride even more boldly. Their boldness awed the troops.

It also awed the poor lackey with the yellow scarf on his head that Goon was talking to when they came into view.

Zhang Fei called out, with supreme boldness, "My brother! It is a Yellow Turban spy! Catch him, catch him!"

Goon blinked. The soldier scampered, or would have, except for the massive hand gripping the back of his shirt. Goon looked at his hand which held the youth from his desperate escape, and blinked again. It was all so very confusing. He hadn't told his hand to do that, had he? But it was such a long path for the command to travel, he couldn't be sure.

By the time all that went through his head, the generals were dragging the cowering Yellow Turban back down the road, calling for the army to set up camp. Eventually, Goon began stomping after his two new bestest friends.

"No hurt Lot Yellow man!"

Zhang Fei looked like he didn't think that made sense. Either that, or Goon started eating Cao Cao's head, which would have been an awfully neat trick since nobody knew who Cao Cao was.

"What do you mean, don't hurt him? He's the enemy!" Zhang Fei's eyes flashed dramatically.

"Brother Zhang Goon, we shall not hurt him... if he gives us the information we desire!" Guan Yu threw his head back. His long, luxurious beard caught the breeze and swayed handsomely.

Goon stared. That always happened during moments of dramatic tension. He flailed to snap out of it and kept making his case.

"Lot Yellow man lot nice to Goon! Say no want do lot lot fight thing, no want make lot people die lot lot!"

"As if this whelp could kill any of our battle-tested soldiers! He'd have no prayer against their daughters," cried Zhang Fei. "Ha ha ha!"

The army responded in unison, a thousand voices echoing across the plains. "Ha ha ha!"

Goon kind of glanced this way and that, stunned until the echo fully faded. By the time he pulled himself together, the young fellow was on his knees, bowing and kissing the dirt at the generals' feet.

"My lords! I beg my life! The Yellow Turbans drafted me against my will, when my aging mother and young sister need me to care for the oxen and plow the fields. Our camp is two miles down the road. I tell you this in exchange for my life. Please, allow me to escape this war and never return!"

Guan Yu demanded, "From where do you hail?"

"From Zh-Zhongmao, to the south," the lookout cried, weeping into the dirt as he pointed ninety degrees left of the setting sun.

"Go now! We shall attack in the night. If we see you, we will drag you along these roads to our Lord, Liu Bei. Hope he is merciful and only has you beheaded!" Guan Yu declared this, and the army roared its assent. Blubbering and sputtering, the young man thanked the general a thousand times as he dashed across the fields for home.

Goon wandered forward, grinning. "Guano man lot nice! Goon thank!"

Guan Yu regarded the enormous man severely. "Do not thank me yet, brother." He pointed to various soldiers with apparent randomness. "You! Stoke the campfires! You! Ready the weapons! Make as much noise as you can! Let the Yellow Turbans know we're here. This night, we lure the heathens out and strike them down!"

The army roared as Guan Yu did the flowing beard thing again. Goon just watched, wandering off as the army set their great general's plan into motion. There was a lot good fight thing coming.

[Spiffy McBang]

The battlefield was a mess.

Scraps of yellow shorn from enemy clothing fluttered haphazardly, their lot in life taken by fateful winds which scattered them now, having blown forth the great sworn brothers and their trained, hardened army. Ripped tent canvas rattled in a strong breeze swirling up from the west. Light yellow dyes, awash with crimson, covered most of the thousand bodies prone in the dirt. Zhang Fei howled mightily at the carnage, and the army erupted in cheer.

This is not what Goon had expected.

The shock of inflicted death did not stir up sadness within him, as did the sparrow he found in a forest near RhyDin which had lived out its natural days and fallen from its nest. An eloquent man would have difficulty finding an appropriate manner in which to express Goon's emotional reaction to the situation, or the lack thereof. One consideration lodged itself in his mind, walling off everything else.

This was wrong.

Not wrong in the moral sense, for the battle was inevitable, and over a dozen turbaned soldiers had attempted to transform Goon into a pincushion. They sat around three posts, hands tied, imprisoned and groggy, but alive. The rest...

Guan Yu had carefully explained that the leader of the Yellow Turbans, the wicked Zhang Jiao, was a man of great cruelty, evil, and magic, choosing to place millions in constant fear of their lives with his rebellion rather than properly submit to the Emperor's will. His soldiers were many. Great battles must be waged to press through the lot and defeat the sorcerer. Those of stout will and good heart must fight to preserve the Han Empire.

Lumbering around the broken encampment, Goon saw no bad people. Brave ones, scared ones, strong and weak, but none bad. He remembered Guan Yu's words, that some of Zhang Jiao's army was created of regular people forced to war, and that was another sign of his evil nature.

Goon thought, and thought, and thought, and thought. And through it all, he had but one wish: Everyone on this field should walk off it.

As he stared into distant lands, all but Goon saw the ring on his right hand begin to glow, blue as sky. Its color deepened, relaxing the fears of superstitious soldiers. A pulsing sound echoed over the plains, in time with a flickering in the ring, until every dead man groaned and shifted on the ground, sending the army into battle positions and snapping Goon from his reverie. Commotion taking charge, glow dispersing, he only saw the ring fade from a light tint of blue to dead black.

The soldiers approached nervously as their enemy rose from dust, soil, and death. They would be quick to blame the wizardry of Zhang Jiao save the ring's obvious magic, and the fact every member of the Yellow Turbans shrieked with fright and struggle backwards as they found hellish death about to be repeated.

Goon turned this way and that. The army watched him for a cue. The Turbans followed their lead. All eyes sat uneasily on the giant in the middle of camp.

He grinned. And flailed.

"Lot fighter people lot live! Lot good!"

Guan Yu stepped forward, bold as ever, and the frightened conscripts cowered when a breeze took the tip of his beard and blew it at them threateningly. Dark eyebrows came together in a frown as he spoke. "Brother Zhang Goon, your act of beneficent sorcery is remarkable, but you have raised the enemy from death! What shall we do, kill them again?"

Goon didn't quite get all that, until the kill part. He shook his head rapidly. "No kill! Fighter people not lot bad!"

"Then what shall we do with them? Releasing a scout is one matter. There are a thousand soldiers here!"

One of the Turbans threw himself prostrate at Guan Yu's feet. "Lord, spare us! Zhang Jiao's men came to our village and rounded up all able-bodied men and boys to fight for him. Any who resisted were forced to watch their young sons murdered, and their wives raped and beaten before being dragged along with the rest."

"I pledge my life to the gracious Lord who spares us!" A comrade of the first wept openly upon the boots of Guan Yu. A thousand such cries went up; yellow scarves were discarded, some stamped into dirt. The general had them swear fealty as a group or return home. None left.

In the midst of joy, Zhang Fei discovered a leg jutting out from the largest tent. "Ho, brothers! What is this?" He gripped the ankle and, with a mighty pull of one arm, removed a dead soldier wearing a yellow ceremonial headpiece. Within the tent lay two more bodies, dressed more richly than the common soldiers.

One by one, the new conscripts spat upon the bodies. "The major in charge, his lieutenant, and a sergeant," explained one.

"Bad men," said another, and Goon looked at his ring again.

He made a decision.

"Got stop Shank Chow man from make lot good fighter people lot dead." He nodded furiously at his brothers, and charged down the northern path they had been traveling.

"Brother Zhang Goon!" cried Zhang Fei. "Wait!"

Goon stopped.

Guan Yu pointed west. "Zhang Jiao is that way."

Goon blinked. Goon grinned. "Lot sorry. Goon thank."

[Spiffy McBang]

Broad fields of wheat swayed gently around a gargantuan set of shoulders, highly visible from the nearby dirt road. Goon turned left, then right. A light puff of dust curled up from the horizon's edge. A column of Yellow Scarves cavalry marched into view, the van of a five thousand-man company journeying to Yangcheng. Upon arriving at the stranger, the army's captain called a general halt and watched for signs of threat.

Goon grinned. "Lot hi."

A whooping call carried forth as two thousand soldiers exploded from deep mud and fell upon the enemy troops. Goon blinked. He hadn't remembered what signal he told the men to wait for, but apparently that was it.

In short order, the battle was finished. Myriad prisoners were taken and bound. Upon approaching the base of Zhang Jiao's operations, the highly successful ambush unit had noted the bulk of his men were more and more zealous in their protection of the master sorcerer. Few repented, and an increasing majority of dead could not be returned to life. The unlocked power of Goon's ring retained its heavenly glow, unusable, and it was with a heavy heart Liu Bei's troops under his command buried the fallen with their lost innocence.

One day outside the city, the unit camped. Goon gathered his loyal followers, entirely comprised of individuals saved by his mysterious magic and sympathy for their unjust consciption. One, Hao Jin, had said those very words in expressing his undying thanks and appreciation. Goon had no idea what he meant, but Hao Jin was a really nice guy and sounded extremely smart, so Goon promoted him to sergeant and right-hand man, and everyone was pleased. They grew even happier when he took command of signaling the successful ambushes upon Goon's inevitable distraction of the enemy.

"Goon thank lot good fighter people for fight lot hard!" Goon began, and a rousing cheer went up. Goon flailed for quiet. "Shank Chow man be lot lot close." A great chorus of boos echoed across the plains, and again Goon flailed. "Lube man say got be lot careful, no for can let lot bad people see lot good fighter people come for make lot good fight thing! Got make do lot lot sneak thing!"

Goon stepped back into bare dust and drew a large square. On the left he scrawled a big smiley face, two dots with a crescent-shaped line beneath and a circle around them all. "Be Lube man." At the bottom end, nearest the soldiers, went two more identical (sort of) smiling faces. "Be Guano man, Shank man!" Above the square went a simple circle. "Be lot friend fighter people!" At that point, Goon dropped to hands and knees and began making very small faces in the dirt at the approximate northeast section of wall, one for each of his forty-seven unit commanders. Hao Jin stopped him before the forty-eighth, fearing correctly his general's intent to make a dust-face model of each soldier in the army. Goon got up and thanked him, because Hao Jin was very smart and wouldn't have stopped him without a good reason.

Goon faced his troops and pointed at their representations. "Lube man say make lot good sneak thing! Lot good fighter people make lot bad fighter people run lot fast! Lot bad fighter people lot gone, Goon fighter people make sneak, find Shank Chow man! Goon fight for stop lot good!" The army roared its assent. Hao Jin dismissed them, and all retired for the night.

[Spiffy McBang]

The eastern wall of Yangcheng was a gray blot on the horizon. The army of Zhu Jun, prinicple ally of Liu Bei, was barely more defined in their purple markings as they waged a devastating assault upon the northern wall. Distant clamor signified Liu Bei and his sworn brothers attacking from west and south. From this distant vantage point, parallel with the northern wall and well to the east of the city, Goon's now-veteran strike force restlessly awaited their destiny and vengeance.

Cries of dying men echoed from within the city limits. As the battle pushed east, the readied soldiers tensed while Goon obliviously ate berries he had been advised not to pick from a growth of nearby shrubbery. The eastern wall's gates crashed open, and Goon jolted from shock, crushing the little treats in his hand. He tried to lick them off has Hao Jin gave the order.

"Attack!"

Goon suddenly realized he was supposed to say that and flailed, spraying berry juice and spittle off his messy right hand. "Lot go! Lot fight lot good!"

The armies of Zhu Jun and Guan Yu ventured around the northeastern and southeastern corners of the city walls as the ambush party approached. Slipping between their ranks as they gave chase to the escaping soldiers, Goon led his party to the gates and inside after all the Yellow Turban soldiers had passed in their rout and gave orders. "Catch lot lot bad fighter people! Goon got find Shank Chow man!"

Hao Jin pulled his general aside as their men charged into the city. "Remember, my lord, Liu Bei said Zhang Jiao would remain due to his fits of madness. I advise caution, but above all else, his defeat is necessary to quell the rebellion and save thousands more lives."

Goon got the gist. He nodded "Goon beat lot good."

The sergeant offered a stolid salute before running off to join the rest of the force. Goon waved after him, grinning. "Fight lot good!"

[Spiffy McBang]

The temple was enormous. Bodhidarma was yet four centuries from bringing the teachings of Buddhism to China and inspiring remarkable palaces of worship, but even the greatest of those shrines would have difficulty displacing this as a cultural icon. Ornate scrollwork and animal carvings carried a sense of the spectacular within them, until one approached the steps and felt sheer power radiating from within the edifice's heart.

Perhaps that's why Goon never did place a single foot upon the stairs leading inside, staggered by the panorama of the city block on which the structure was built until, looking directly towards the entrance, he saw a man with bushy eyebrows and a long, flowing beard dressed in great robes of golden silk. In one hand he carried a staff of twisted oak, and even standing still he always appeared to lean to one side or another. He pointed the staff at Goon, and in so doing, sent his upper body into a circular dance.

"Trickery, deceit! The armies of the evil Han know no bounds! But be warned, foul demon, you have come to your dooooooooom!" He stretched the last word out long enough to confuse Goon badly, leaving him flat-footed against the streaking fireballs which erupted from the staff. The heroic warrior could do nothing but cross his arms against the imminent impact.

Stone and dust exploded from the spot, and everything within fifty feet was obscured from outside vision. Zhang Jiao cackled mightily, spinning more and more awkwardly to celebrate his apparent victory.

But the dust settled, and Goon stood. He checked his forearms, now scorched, and frowned a little.

"Lot ow," he observed.

The Yellow Turban leader, shocked and appalled, ordered his cadre of one hundred hidden archers to rise up and eliminate the infidel leader. But to a man, the bowmen approached Goon and remonstrated with him, desiring peaceful surrender to the one who proved Zhang Jiao's heavenly mandate false. Goon promised to help them all when he had completed his assigned task, and rumbled up the temple steps.

Stripped of his power by the iridescent glow of Goon's ring, Zhang Jiao screamed upon the impact of his fist. It was unearthly screeching, and all who heard it covered their ears from basest instinct. Later, it was told by those near the temple (and those who purported to be near the temple) that a wisping white cloud left the falling form of the rebel leader before evaporating into mist as he crumpled. The old Baronial ring shone brightly enough to illuminate a hundred yards of city on a moonless night, and Goon, unable to ignore the inspiration, faced the people of Yangcheng and held his mighty fist aloft until it faded to a dim, pulsing light.

The battle was over by then. Liu Bei and the Imperial armies had won. Goon descended the temple stairs into the company of his three sworn brothers, along with a host of cheering soldiers. What few loyal attendants remained had whisked away the limp form of Zhang Jiao, but there was little concern about him. The sorcerer's power had been broken by the dislodging of the wraith from his body, but more importantly, Goon's very public victory forever destroyed his leadership credentials in the minds of his followers. Others would attempt to fill his role, but none could rally the spirits of the rebels as Zhang Jiao had without his supernatural abilities, and so the Yellow Turbans would be crushed utterly in due course. The Han Empire would once again live in peace.

But Goon would not see it.

Rowdy celebrations led to a final reunion of the four sworn brothers, where Goon was overcome by the sense this land's need for him had come and gone. Unable to define it as such, in large part due to the bellyache caused by poisonous berries, he was overcome with a need to offer the ring to Liu Bei, insisting the great leader had "lot lot people" to save. Eventually, to avoid insulting his honored general, Liu Bei accepted the gift with grace. Goon said good night to his compatriots and collapsed onto a great sofa of cushions in their enormous shared tent.

He awoke, bleary-eyed, on a very hard, wooden floor.

"Guano man?"

He sat up.

"Shank man? Lube man?"

Goon rubbed his eyes and beheld the Arena. His right hand was sandy from having laid in a nearby ring, and thus he spent several minutes wiping sand out of his eyes with his left. But his internal compass righted itself, and he stumbled out into a bewildered crowd at the Red Dragon Inn.

"Goon got talk Nice Library lady," he mumbled, exiting into the night.