A tape is inserted into a deck. The play button is pressed.
BARD (NARRATOR): Welcome, dear listeners, to the Adventures of Sir Rodney the Root!
SCENE 1. INT. KING ALFRED'S THRONE ROOM
A door opens to our right, and footsteps approach, as the Bard plucks at a lute.
BARD: The somewhat heroic and moderately dashing knight, Sir Gilbert Wyvernguard, third best of the kingdom of Kirkland, approaches the throne of his majestic king, Alfred, and the smaller and only slightly less impressive throne of the Crown Princess Camilla. As always, the King's trusty steward Willis awaits his word. Gilbert approaches the dais, while the most talented bard in all of the land--
GILBERT: Um, Bard? I'm-- I'm sorry.
The Bard stops playing, and clears his throat in an annoyed manner.
GILBERT: Sorry. But I don't need you describing what's going on around me. I can see it for myself.
BARD: (after a pause) Fine. You find some clever way of dealing with the constraints of the medium, then.
BARD: No, fine, whatever.
Gilbert continues walking. As he approaches the throne, the voices of Camilla and King Alfred increase in volume.
CAMILLA: I shall do no such thing.
KING ALFRED: You will. I told you to.
CAMILLA: I shan't marry Lord Peerless! You can't make me.
KING ALFRED: Yes I can! I'm the king!
CAMILLA: No, you can't!
Gilbert's footsteps have stopped.
KING ALFRED: I can too! --
WILLIS: Ah hem. The knight is here, sire.
KING ALFRED: Sir Gil-bert! What brings you to my throne room?
CAMILLA: You summoned him, father.
KING ALFRED: Willis, is that true?
WILLIS: Yes, sire.
KING ALFRED: Sir Gil-bert! Did I summon you? Willis keeps track of all of my to-dos... He hasn't made a mistake yet, but there is a first time for everything.
GILBERT: Yes, you did.
WILLIS: (under his breath) Told you so, sire.
GILBERT: Apologies, your majesty, but my name is "Gil-BEAR."
KING ALFRED: Are you sure? Because it's spelled "Gil-BERT".
CAMILLA: It's pronounced however Sir Gilbert says it is. It's his name.
WILLIS: His majesty is always correct.
CAMILLA: Oh please.
GILBERT:Gil-bert is fine. I'm sorry for the bother.
KING ALFRED: (doubtfully) No, no, if you insist...
GILBERT: Thank you, sire.
KING ALFRED: Make a note of that, Willis!
WILLIS: I already have, your majesty.
CAMILLA: Father, Sir Gilbert needs to be told why you have summoned him.
KING ALFRED: Oh! Yes! Sir Gilbert, you are aware of our eastern neighbors, the Westlanders?
WILLIS: Their thriving economy, competitive tax rate and high standard of living are the envy of the southern continent of Ilsylian
KING ALFRED: Pfffft! As if bathing once a year and an average lifespan of 40 is something to crow about!
WILLIS: If those filthy peasants would stop dying we'd have the same numbers.
GILBERT: With all due respect, sire, I don't need an expository dialogue about your twenty-year petty feud with King Jeffrey of Westland.
KING ALFRED: Not even about the chickens?
GILBERT: I was involved in The Chicken Affair, sire, along with Sir Rodney.
KING ALFRED: Dear Sir Rodney.
WILLIS: Terribly unfortunate.
CAMILLA: Such a tragedy.
KING ALFRED: I know you two were close, Sir Gilbert. This must be very difficult for you.
GILBERT: I have no idea what you are talking about.
KING ALFRED: (he sighs) Oh dear. I hate to be the bearer of bad news... Perhaps it's best to just show you. Willis?
WILLIS: Bring out Sir Rodney!
Scampering as young servant bearing Sir Rodney arrives.
SERVANT BOY: Sir Rodney as you required, your majesty.
KING ALFRED: No no don't hand him to me I don't want to touch him--
GILBERT: What happened?!
KING ALFRED: Just... put him down right there. Yes, in that chair, Billy.
SERVANT BOY: My name is Michael, sire.
KING ALFRED: Are you sure that's your name?
GILBERT: Why is he....? What is he??
KING ALFRED: Billy is a servant.
GILBERT: NO! RODNEY!
KING ALFRED: Oh! ... He's a root.
WILLIS: A rather small one.
CAMILLA: More of a stick, really.
SERVANT BOY: My mother named me after my father. He died during the Chicken Affair. It's all I have of his.
KING ALFRED: Nononono, change it to Billy. You look more like a Billy.
SERVANT BOY: Y-yes, sire.
KING ALFRED: Please leave now, Billy. The sight of you makes me keenly aware of my privilege, and it's making me uncomfortable.
Michael, er, Billy, scampers away.
GILBERT: How... are you sure it's him?
KING ALFRED: Obviously! See? He's wearing a little tunic with his coat of arms on it.
WILLIS: A tree with exposed roots on a field of gold.
GILBERT: Is he... well, is he in there, or is he... dead?
KING ALFRED: Dead! Of course he's not dead.
CAMILLA: He's probably dead.
WILLIS: To answer your question, Sir Gilbert, we are not entirely sure. The King harbors a hope that Sir Rodney may be returned to his pre-tuber state.
GILBERT: How exactly?
WILLIS: That's your plot line sir, not mine. You have to figure it out for yourself.
GILBERT: (frustrated sigh, then:) May I ask how... ithappened?
KING ALFRED: That witch, Gwendolyn.
GILBERT: What does this have to do with Westland?
CAMILLA: Sir Rodney was embarking on a "vital" mission when he met his unfortunate end.
WILLIS: King Jeffry's latest effrontery is building a zoological garden to house magical creatures.
KING ALFRED: I cannot let it stand!
GILBERT: You want me to tear down his zoo?
KING ALFRED: Of course not, that is completely ridiculous. I am building my own zoological gardens and they will be better than anything Jeffrey could possibly come up with in his wildest dreams! My zoo... shall house... a unicorn!
An angelic choir sings
GILBERT: .... A unicorn?
WILLIS: Are you unfamiliar with the most magical and rare of creatures?
CAMILLA: Father, this scene is running long. Tell Sir Gilbert what it is you wish him to do.
KING ALFRED: Oh, fine. Willis?
Willis slowly turns a page
WILLIS: (reading) Fortune has smiled upon you, Sir Gilbert. As the third best and currently only unoccupied knight in the kingdom, you have been chosen by your king to complete the perilous and dangerous quest begun by Sir Rodney... The Quest for the Unicorn.
Angelic choir again
GILBERT: Unicorns are a critically endangered species. There are international laws banning their capture or captivity.
KING ALFRED: I'm not sure what the problem is. But wait! There's more.
WILLIS: You shall not undertake this perilous quest alone--
CAMILLA: I shall accompany you.
GILBERT, KING ALFRED & WILLIS: What?
CAMILLA: I shall accompany him.
KING ALFRED: I heard you the first time. The "what" was rhetorical.
GILBERT: Your Highness- no disrespect, but I work best alone.
The Bard begins to play a song on his lute
Sir Gilbert of the Wyvernguards,
The family known for warriors!
Sir Gilbert of the Wyvernguards,
He has a tragic backstory.... er!
GILBERT: No I don't!
BARD: I'm trying to make you more interesting. You're making it very difficult!
KING ALFRED: Camilla, you must stay here and prepare for your wedding to Lord Peerless.
CAMILLA: As I am not marrying him, I have nothing to prepare for.
KING ALFRED: You are often headstrong and stubborn--
CAMILLA: That's redundant--
KING ALFRED: AND DISRESPECTFUL to me as both your father and your king. And as both your father AND your king, I say a perilous quest is no place for my only child and heir.
CAMILLA: But Father--
KING ALFRED: THE KING HAS SPOKEN. (Willis begins writing) Did you write that down, Willis?
WILLIS: Of course, sire.
A door from within the castle is thrown open, followed by someone running in silk robes.
KING ALFRED: Ah! Master Faendyr. There you are!
FAENDYR: (panting) Oh gods. I am out of shape. Phew! These robes look amazing, but gods are they heavy. (deep breath) Am I late?
CAMILLA & WILLIS: Yes.
GILBERT: You'll be coming with me?
FAENDYR: Just the two of us.
CAMILLA: I thought you preferred to work alone?
GILBERT: No no, I didn't say that.
The Bard plays a lively tune on his lute
Lwellenar- that's Elvish!
He's the handsome, well-dressed Elven-mage,
That's because he's Elvish!
CAMILLA: Not now.
FAENDYR: Oh let him, I like this one.
BARD: (singing) Lwellenar, Lwellenar, Lwellenar, that's Elvish!
KING ALFRED: As my official court mage, Master Faendyr has a very deep and profound knowledge of all of the arcane arts, stemming from his centuries of study at the Mages' College in the Elven Imperium.
FAENDYR: It is the finest institution of higher magical learning in all of Ilsylian.
KING ALFRED: As such, I thought he would be helpful to you in your quest.
GILBERT: That's wonderful, yes, I'm sure he'll be very helpful.
FAENDYR: Despite my centuries of practicing the magical arts, I've never seen a unicorn myself. They are incredibly rare- on the verge of extinction actually- but my tedious and complicated study of arcane texts revealed to me that they can be found near entrances to the Fairielands. Of course, there are no physical entrances to the Fairielands. It's a different plane of existence. We can only find these entrances through magic.
GILBERT: And that's where you come in?
FAENDYR: Ha, no! No. Fairies are fickle bastards and I personally try to have as little to do with them as possible. Our first stop- unfortunately- will be to contact the witch Gwendolyn for her assistance. She has no problem sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. She lives in the village of Fools Haven, so she's not far.
GILBERT: But she's the one who turned Rodney into a root.
FAENDYR: Magic's like that sometimes, Gil. Gotta do what you gotta do. Well, shall we?
KING ALFRED: Don't forget Sir Rodney!
KING ALFRED: The royal tailor has made you a little sling he fits in... just slip that over your head... there you go.
Gilbert slips on the baby carrier, I mean, root holster
BARD: Oh that is.... adorable.
KING ALFRED: You shall be... The Companions of the Root!
SCENE 2. TRANSITION
The Bard plays his lute. It's late afternoon in the countryside. We hear insects buzzing and chirping, and a rooster off in the distance.
BARD: And they were off on the start of a new adventure! Our hero, Sir Rodney, leads his three companions: the devastatingly handsome Elven mage Faendyr, the fairly average looks-wise human, Sir Gilbert, and the most talented and tragically underappreciated bard in all the land. The four leave the capital of Kirkland and journey south-west towards the quaint village of Fools Haven. What perils will they encounter on their Quest for the Unicorn?
GILBERT: I'm sorry, could you-- (The Bard stops playing) Would you mind not narrating what we're doing?
FAENDYR: It's really annoying.
We realize they are standing outside of a tavern. A livley jig plays inside.
BARD (a quiet sigh. Then:) After an easy day of travel, they stop at an unremarkable tavern. Thrilling.
Gilbert opens the creaky, wooden door. We are now inside the tavern and it's
SCENE 3. INT. TAVERN.
We hear the music louder now, and happy tavern patrons socializing after a hard days' work. They cheer, throw dice, clink tankards, and call for more ale.
FAENDYR: You can't sit with us.
BARD: I don't want to sit with you anyway.
BARKEEP: Hail and well met friends! Welcome to the Inn of the Dancing Donkey!
GILBERT: Well met, friend.
BARKEEP: Forgive my boldness sirs, but you look as if you hail from the capital. What brings you to Fools Haven?
FAENDYR: Greetings, mortal. My companion and I --
BARD: Sss! Sssss!
FAENDYR: We're looking for your village witch, Gwendolyn.
FAENDYR: Um. Ew.
BARKEEP: No offense meant good sirs, but no one goes looking for that half-elf harpy unless they mean trouble.
FAENDYR: Do you have a problem with elves?
BARKEEP: Oh! No, sir! But it is a bit problematic with her being a witch an' all.
GILBERT: What's your trouble with her?
BARKEEP: I have no trouble with her- knock on wood! We here in this village do our best to keep our distance from her. She seems harmless, but mark my words, no good comes from dealing with witches.
GILBERT: Unfortunately we haven't much of a choice. We need an entrance to the Fairielands.
FAENDYR: Royal business.
BARKEEP: The Fairielands! You gentlemen must have a death wish! There was a knight who came through here a fortnight ago. He went looking for that witch and never returned.
GILBERT: Sir Rodney?
BARKEEP: I didn't get his name. Pardon me asking, sir knight, but why do you have a stick in a holster around your neck?
FAENDYR (casually) That's what's left of Sir Rodney.
BARKEEP: Gods preserve us!
FAENDYR: As you can see, mortal, we are very serious and deadly types. If you don't tell us what we wish to know, I shall have to use my considerable and terrible arcane powers to pry this knowledge from your very mind.
Faendyr has started to fire up a spell
BARKEEP: Oh nononono, there's no need for that! You'll find her hut not two miles outside the village, following the river. But there isn't much sunlight left in the day, my lords, and I don't recommend visiting her in the dark of night. May I humbly suggest you sojourn from your quest here? I have a new barmaid who can show you to your room. I'll warn you, she's not very good. But beggars can't be choosers.
A woman's footsteps approach on the wooden floor
CAMILLA: Hail and well met friends.
FAENDYR: Oh for the gods' sakes.
GILBERT: What are you doing here?!
BARKEEP: You know these men?
CAMILLA: I've never seen them before in my life until right now, here in this... drinking establishment.
CAMILLA: I drink here every night (she pours some ale into a tankard) Mmmm. I love this... brown foul smelling beverage all the commoners love.
FAENDYR: Then what's your name, wench?
FAENDYR: What? A common tavern maid would not object to being called a wench.
CAMILLA (through gritted teeth) And I do not object. Because I am but a common girl.
CUSTOMER: Excuse me, miss? Can I get some more beer?
CAMILLA: Get it yourself, you lazy oaf. I'm busy!
FAENDYR: Stop stalling. What's your name?
CAMILLA: ... Alfred.
CAMILLA: Yes. It's Elvish.
FAENDYR: Mm. It's not.
BARD: (chuckles) Nice.
CAMILLA: It's an old family name.
GILBERT: Oh for-- your highness!
BARKEEP: I don't understand. What's goin' on?
BARD: Do you have a gold sovereign?
CAMILLA: Oh fungus.
BARKEEP: Well yes, but...
BARD: Look at it.
The Barkeep gets a coin.
BARKEEP: Oh! Why, it looks just like her! What a strange coincidence.
GILBERT: Oh my gods.
CAMILLA: Yes. Fine. It's me. Well done.
BARKEEP: I can't believe I hired her highness as a barmaid! I thought she was but a peasant girl!
GILBERT: Her expensive gown wasn't a giveaway?
BARKEEP: I'm not a very clever man.
FAENDYR: How did you get here without anyone noticing?
GILBERT: And in that clothing! Shouldn't you have worn something less conspicuous?
CAMILLA: Just because I'm going adventuring doesn't mean I can't look stunning whilst I'm doing it.
FAENDYR: Right on.
CAMILLA: There was a delivery cart returning to Fools Haven that left the kitchens shortly after you. I simply hid myself in the cart.
GILBERT: But you got here before us.
CAMILLA: You walk very slowly.
FAENDYR: Fantastic. Now we have to drag Little Miss Adventure back to her father.
CAMILLA: That's Little Miss Princess Adventure to you. And don't you dare!
GILBERT: I'm sorry, your highness, but I have no choice.
CAMILLA: As the crown princess I command you to allow me to accompany you.
GILBERT: But the King--
CAMILLA: Never gave an order prohibiting you from accepting my company.
GILBERT: Well, technically that's correct, but his intention was pretty clear.
FAENDYR: You can't--
CAMILLA: I can and I will. Listen: I love my father, I really do. But I cannot deny that he is an out of touch and ineffectual ruler. He has barely set foot outside of our castle walls in ten years. If I wanted to be anything, it's an effective and powerful Queen, and I can't become that if I don't know what more than a square mile of my kingdom looks like. So, I will be accompanying you on this quest.
GILBERT: I... I mean... We shouldn't... Faendyr, say something!
FAENDYR: Fine, your highness.
CAMILLA: Lovely. We're going to find a witch and kidnap a unicorn. How dangerous could it be? Oh... barkeep? I quit.
BARKEEP: Oh, thank the gods.
A lively musical transition
SCENE 4. EXT. OUTSIDE GWENDOLYN'S HUT
A forest at night. Crickets chrip. An owl hoots. A quiet river runs.
FAENDYR: Well. I'm no ranger, but we've followed the river for almost two miles... and here's a creepy hut. Fantastic.
GILBERT: Do we... do we just knock or...?
A classic horror string stinger, as a wooden door slowly creaks open.... and......
FAENDYR, GIL, CAMILLA, BARD: (scream)
GWENDOLYN: Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you! I just thought I heard voices out here and, boop! There you are!
CAMILLA: Are you the witch Gwendolyn?
GWENDOLYN: Of course, silly bean! Who else would live in a hut in the middle of the forest? A tailor? (laughs at her own joke, then abruptly:) Well, where are my manners, come on in! Ooop, watch your head there, tall boy.
Faendyr hits his head with a thump on wood.
SCENE 5. INT. GWENDOLY'N'S HUT.
It's not what you might expect. It's cozy. A fire crackles in the corner, budgies chirp in their cage, and crystals strung from the ceiling clink together pleasantly
GWENDOLYN: Told you so. (She closes the door.) Would you like some tea? ... Nope, better not it might be poisoned. I'm kidding! I'm kidding! ... But it might be though, better not. What can I do ya for?
GILBERT: Well, um, ma'am. Two things. First thing is you seem to have turned our friend Rodney into a root.
GWENDOLYN: Ohhh did I?
GILBERT: Yes, ma'am you did.
GWENDOLYN: Mmmmm. I just don't remember. But, to be fair that does sound like something I would do.
GILBERT: This is him right here.
GWENDOLYN: Oh! That lil stick man you have in that sweet lil' baby carrier around your neck? I was wondering what that was about.
FAENDYR: Yeah, well, that's him.
GWENDOLYN: Ooooooh! Yes! Sorry about that. You know, you get hungry, you get cranky, a knight comes and bangs on your door, and poof! He's a root!
GILBERT: Yes, he did like to bang.
GWENDOLYN: Sorry to say, but there's nothing I can do.
FAENDYR: So that's it, he's just a root forever?
GWENDOLYN: Mm. Yep.
GILBERT: You can't do anything? Anything at all?
GWENDOLYN: Mm. Nope. Now was there something else, or...?
CAMILLA: Yes. We need admittance to the Fairielands.
GWENDOLYN: Oh, sillies! You don't want to go there! Fairies will make masks out of your face flesh and eat you for dinner. You especially tall boy. You have such nice skin.
BARD: It is very soft.
FAENDYR: Shut! up!
CAMILLA: We accept the risk to Faendyr's skin. We need a unicorn.
GWENDOLYN: Well, I'm afraid I can't-- wait, a unicorn?
GWENDOLYN: I need-- oh hold on just a moment--
Drawers opening, closing, items hitting the floor, paper shuffling, etc, as Gwendolyn is rifling around
GWENDOLYN: Where did I-- it's always in the last place you'd think to look-- Ah! (She drops a book on the table and quickly flips through it.) Ah ha hahahaha! Ah hem. Well, lady and gentlemen, I might just be able to help you after all. A little, "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," if you will.
FAENDYR: What are your terms, witch?
GWENDOLYN: You tall, magic-elf-types are so stuck up, aren't you? I may have not been entirely truthful when I said there was nothing I could do for your friend Roger.
GWENDOLYN: Tomato, tomahto. There is a way that I could transform him back into whatever he was before that, but I need your help. That is, if you do want to help him.
FAENDYR: Technically weweren't really friends...
CAMILLA: I suppose...
BARD: I mean... eh?
GILBERT: Yes! Yes, we do want to help him.
GWENDOLYN: May we all have such stalwart friends. Anywhosel! There is a spell that I can do, but I need three objects. They're nothing really, but you know how magic is.
FAENDYR: Yes, the arcane arts are my specialty.
GWENDOLYN: Then you already know about the Unholies.
A dramatic drum beat
FAENDYR: Of course I do. but I doubt my companions do and I'd like to hear how you explain them.
CAMILLA: The Unholies more commonly known as the Demon Relics, are magickal objects used by the great magi of old to enhance their own innate powers. Well, I say innate, but only Elves, and those decsended from Elves are born with the ablility to use magick. Anyone else has to make a compact with a demon, of course.
FAENDYR: How do you know this?
CAMILLA: I can read. And I don't have to work for a living so I have a lot of time on my hands.
GWENDOLYN: Of course, any time you mix demons and power, messy things start happening. (Her voice begins to distort, and we hear the echo of a terrible battle of old) There was a big war, terrible bloodshed, almost brought down the Elven Imperium blah blah blah blah. Long story short, many of the Relics were destroyed, others were locked up, and some simply went missing. Over time, stupid humans and elves forgot what they were, and now they're just pretty objects sittin' around gathering dust.
GILBERT: So... what are we doing?
GWENDOLYN: Keep up, silly! I need you to bring me two of them. Specifically, the Consumer of Flesh and the Hungering Band. (Her voice again distorts as she names the Relics. Probably doesn't mean anything, right?)
GILBERT: They sound... pleasant.
GWENDOLYN: You'll know them when you see them, trust me. I also need some unicorn hair. You already need the unicorn, you just have to grab me those two lil' things. And then presto-chango, you don't have to carry Rupert around like an idiot for the rest of your natural life.
CAMILLA: But whydo you need them?
FAENDYR: In order to undo a permanent spell, you need a stronger form of magick than what was originally used. It doesn't get more powerful than demon-fueled relics.
GWENDOLYN: Just like the tall boy said. Well, whatchya thinkin'?
CAMILLA: I say we accept! Finding cursed, legendary objects and a mythical beast? That's a real quest right there, not just some silly errand for my father.
FAENDYR: Well, her highness has spoken so I guess that's that.
GWENDOLYN: Wonderful! If you would all do me a favor and just-- You know I just got a little contract here for you to sign right here. Just to make things official.
She unfurls a parchment
GILBERT: Little? It's four feet long!
GWENDOLYN: Oh, it's all legalese! I just like to keep things on the up-and-up, you know? Just sign right here in blood-- heh, no I'm kidding.
Faendyr, Gil and Camilla sign
GWENDOLYN: (deep, strange voice) The compact is sealed.
She collects the paper.
GWENDOLYN: Great! You all just signed away the soul of your first-born child! Hehe, ya know, just a little joke we witches like to make. ... But seriously though, you might not want to have children. Alrighty, buh bye!
She opens the door to shoo them out
CAMILLA: Wait! What about the Fairielands?
FAENDYR: What about the Relics? We don't know where to start!
GWENDOLYN: Ooops, silly me! Just head to Rippling Brook, and it will all work itself out from there. Oh! And if you've been happy with your service today, please leave me a five-star review, it really helps me out. BUH BYE.
She slams the door.
SCENE 6. EXT. OUTSIDE GWENDOLY'N'S HUT
Same exterior ambiance from before.
BARD: (as he strums a chord) Our heroes--
COMPANIONS: (startled noises)
GILBERT: Oh gods, were you there the whole time?
FAENDYR: Oh my gods, I completely forgot about him! Scared me, lil fella.
BARD ... That makes me feel really good, thanks. (Back to his narrator voice and his lute) Our heroes, slightly discomforted by their encounter with the chipper witch, make their way along the perilous road to Rippling Brook!
Abrupt stop to the lute
BARD: I'm trying to paint a mind-picture with my words. I thought that would be more interesting than telling everyone you had a completely non-eventful and frankly not worth mentioning journey after you camped for the night... (Narrator voice:) And arrived the charming little village of Rippling Brook the next afternoon!
SCENE 7. EXT. RIPPLING BROOK.
Pleasant lute music. Birds chirp, farm animals laze around, a river. A nice little village.
CAMILLA: Out of my way, out of my way, coming through...!
FAENDYR: Where are you going?
CAMILLA: If you must know, I have to... use the facilities.
GILBERT: Wait... you've been holding it in all this time?
CAMILLA: What else was I going to do, go in the woods? I'm not a barbarian! I'll be right back.
FAENDYR: Well, we're here. What did Gwendolyn say? It'd all work itself out? Typical witch nonsense. Be as non-specific as possible so we'll think she was right when something sort of like what she said happens.
GILBERT: I suppose we should start looking around? Maybe ask some of these villagers?
As the speak, a strange noise grows louder- it sounds like bells, but reversed and slowed down.
FAENDYR: Yeah, let's just go up to a random stranger and ask them if they're a fairy.
GILBERT: Well, it's not ideal, but it's better than just waiting around for something to--
ABRUPT CHANGE TO
SCENE 8. EXT. A VALLEY IN THE FAIRY PLANE.
We hear the bells now, no longer reversed or slowed. What sounds like little children giggle. When anyone speaks, their voice has slight echo to it.
GILBERT: -- happen. Um. What happened to Rippling Brook?
FAENDYR: Oh gods. Fantastic. Just wonderful.
GILBERT: What's going on?
FAENDYR: We've been abducted by faeries.
GILBERT: That's bad?
FAENDYR: That's very bad. If you want to get back to our plane of existence don't tell them your real name.
GILBERT: Got it.
FAENDYR: Don't eat anything.
FAENDYR: Ooooh there's another one and I can't remember. "Name, food..." ugh, what is it??
GILBERT: They're a bunch of children how bad can it-- (The faeries noises become more menacing. They're not cute anymore.) Oh my gods, what's wrong with them? Are those fangs? Why are their eyes so big?! Oh gods!
FAERIE 1: You're our guests... I mean, prisoners now!
GILBERT: No offence, but you should have left it at guests.
DORA THE FAERIE: I'm a Faerie! What's your name, human?
GILBERT: Uhhhh Bear.... Gil. I mean Beargil.
FAERIE 2: Oooooh sounds Elven.
FAENDYR: No it doesn't!
FAERIE 1: What's yours, tall one?
FAENDYR: You know, I'm actually on the short side for an elf.
FAERIE 1: That's a strange name.
FAENDYR: It's... Gil.
FAERIES: (chattering to each other) Gil? / That's a name? / What's a Gil?
FAENDYR: Yeah, like the fish antatomy. Are we just going to stand around talking or what?
GILBERT: (quietly) Gil?
FAENDYR: (quietly) It was the only name I could think of off the top of my head.
DORA THE FAERIE: I bet you have a lot of meat on you!
GILBERT: Excuse me?
FAERIE 2: We've never eaten elf before!
FAENDYR: Excuse me?!
DORA THE FAERIE: He said "we've never eaten elf before!"
FAENDYR: We know what you said! You're going to eat us?
FAERIE 2: Oh, no, not the both of you.
FAERIE 1: Just you, elf!
FAERIE 2: We're bored with human.
BARD (Narrator voice): It appears that B---
FAENDYR: What in the Infernal Plane...!
GILBERT: Where are you?!
BARD: I'm not actually here. I'm the narrator right now.
GILBERT: Wait, what?
BARD: I'm a character but I'm also narrating. It's really not that complicated.
(theme music begins)
It appears that "Beargil" and "Gil" have found themselves on the menu! Will they escape? And how will Camilla survive on her own? Find out next time on THE ADVENTURES OF SIR RODNEY THE ROOT!
The Adventures of Sir Rodney the Root is a production of Talking Fish Podcasts. This episode featured the voices of Michael Silver, Tatum Moss, Lena Winter, Michael Reilly, Brian Lyons Burke, David Dubov, Courtney Branch, Tom Howley, Andrew Quilpa, Jenny Oberholtzer and Yasmin Tuazon.
Our producers are Michael Reilly, Lena Winter, and Laura Zheng.
Connect with us on social media at TalkingFishCast, or visit our website for more show information at talkingfishpodcasts.com. This show was made possible by our Kickstarter backers and Patreon supports. Support the show at Patreon.com/TalkingFish
LENA WINTER: (as Camilla) I drink here every night. (A very poor slurp, followed by a cough) I love this beverage that the commoners love- (normal voice) Let me actually take that again with a drink.
TATUM MOSS: Hm.
LENA: So I'm not trying to like, make weird drinking noises.
MICHAEL REILLY: (laughs)
Several people begin making sipping noises. Michael Silver laughs.
TOM HOWLEY: gurgle gurgle
LENA: That's how humans drink, right?
Tom makes a noise like he's trying to fit a whole cup in his mouth, making Tatum laugh.
The sound of a cassette tape begin ejected singles the end of the episode.