Fantastical Being Number 26: Mr. Upside-Down

 Fantastical Being Number 26: Mr. Upside-Down

Dear Diary (and adoring fans),

It has been three weeks since my last entry. If I’m being entirely candid, I think we deserved a break after Number 25. How many people out there can say they spent seventy-two straight hours fending off relentless attacks from a three-headed Baboon King and then proceeded to get right back to work the next day? I dare say the answer to that question is a resounding nobody. And if somebody can, well. They’re obviously insane and therefore a complete statistical anomaly and should not be counted towards this discussion. If any of our dear readers are wondering why I’ve bothered to go off on this tangent, I assure you the people who that was for know exactly who they are. I hope this ends that infernal pedantic jibber jabber in the town squares. You have no idea how exhausting it is to be hounded with the same pointless queries on the way from the caravan to the tavern.

But, I digress. It’s about time to focus on the action. Well, kind of. Some context seems appropriate first. Five days ago my party and I received word from F.B.E.C headquarters via express pigeon. Mind you, this was the first express pigeon we had received in nearly a year. Yes- we are the extermination committee. But generally speaking our brothers at the F.B.D.C usually leave us in a less precarious situation. They’re always emergencies, sure. But this one was.. particularly urgent. We’re no strangers to the diplomacy teams not quite garnering the results they’d prefer with the Fantastical Beings, but it was rather uncommon for them to fail so spectacularly. Regardless, they had- so it was now our turn to handle the situation. We had 96 hours to get to Ravensport from New Hazelby to neutralise a class 5 arcane being. Needless to say- the pressure was on. For all our newbies out there reading, class 5 is the second worst one. If it were a class 6, well, let’s just say you wouldn’t be reading this. You know, because of how utterly deceased I would likely be. 

Speaking of the first-timers, I suppose it’s only fitting I give a rundown of our elite band of warriors for those completely unfamiliar. We’re a smaller group, only four of us. Although small isn’t really the right word to describe Axel Englebert, the six foot six brigadier with skin made of stone. No, that is not a metaphor. Axel was cursed by a rather nasty witch when he was only twelve years old, as punishment for his father’s inability to pay her extortionate taxes. After spending eighteen years alone in the woods, ashamed to show his face to the world, a gentle dryad by the name of Alnora Westwynd showed him love for the first time and slowly reintroduced him to the world. Alnora and Axel have been married for three years this Spring and they have been travelling with me as members of the F.B.E.C for just shy of four. Alnora is perhaps the most powerful wielder of natural magic that has graced this world in several centuries, although you wouldn’t know it without seeing it for yourself. She’s an impossibly modest and kind woman, primarily focusing her abilities on supporting the rest of us. As well as Axel and Alnora, I am joined on my adventures by the exhaustingly mischievous gnome Grinkle Gronkle. Grinkle is an unparalleled tactician, and impossibly quick with his trademark Gnovish longsword. You wouldn’t think he could wield it at that height, but before you can voice your doubt he would have already chopped your tongue off. And finally- me, Alexander Demetrius Paragon. What, Paragon as in King Wilhelm Frogenn Paragon- ruler of the Northern Realm of Balmorris? Yes, him. That’s dear old Dad all right. Unfortunately, I am the youngest of twelve sons- and each of my eleven brothers are impossibly healthy. Ten years ago I relinquished my royal status and began my journey as a courageous adventurer. Three years later I found myself saving the life of the committee grand master, and I’m sure you can fill in the rest. That’s everyone- so. Back to the story.

After what was perhaps the longest four-day ride of all time, we had finally made it to Ravensport. At least, we thought we did. Ravensport is the third largest city in all of Balmorris, and it is never empty. Not at the peak of dusk or dawns first light, why even on the solstice you still see vagrants with nowhere to celebrate wandering the streets. But when we arrived you could likely hear a pin drop at the North Gate 75 miles away from where we parked the caravan on the South Gate. This was our first sign that perhaps the class 5 denotation we were told of was not an over-exaggeration. You sometimes get rookie diplomat teams that run away at the first sign of terror and blow the situation way out of proportion. In my first year, I was sent to deal with a possible class 3 Pyro-Demon that was nothing more than a class 1 Field Sprite that had stolen a pack of matches. Nevertheless, anything that could empty the streets of Ravensport was something to be incredibly cautious about. I had barely taken my bow off of my back before we heard the voice.

“Hello there, little warriors.” a voice softly echoed, bouncing around the empty cobble alleys as if it were the screeches of a Crimson Hill Hyena-Bat. Axel chuckled, then began to shout,

“Who are you calling  ‘little’, mysterious stranger?”

“I suppose you are rather large,” it responded, “but that doesn’t really matter. Your power is nothing compared to Mr. Upside-Down.”

“Am I supposed to know who Mr Upside-Down is?” Axel questioned, obviously confused. Our dear Axel is, well, rather simple. It’s okay, he never reads these anyway. He hails from a people known as the Hill-Folk, a simple tribe of Tradesmen that came together from all over the world to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He didn’t know how to read until Alnora taught him, and even then he doesn’t particularly care for books (or my Ether Space Public Diary, obviously).

 

Anywho, I felt it appropriate to chime in at this point,

“Axel, my darling, I believe he is this ‘Mr. Upside-Down’. At least, that’s what I’m gathering. Say, why not come introduce yourself to us? If you’re so sure you’re much more powerful than we are, you have nothing to fear.”

A few awkward seconds passed before a fog started to rise from the streets of Ravensport. From that fog, a startling figure began to arise. They wore an incredibly well-made black suit- almost as if they were the fanciest funeral director in all of the realms. An ornate golden timepiece hung from the waistcoat, and from the timepiece, a shimmer could be clearly made out. As the figure's face began to form, we started to realise something off about the man. Well, other than the fog. Where a chin would normally reside above the neck, we instead saw a medium-length mess of unkempt, white hair. Above that, his eyebrows. Then his eyes- you get the idea. It was starting to become incredibly obvious why he called himself Mr Upside-Down.

“N-no,” Alnora started, “it cannot be. It simply cannot. How did a demon from Hell’s 3rd Circle arrive on the mortal plane? It should be impossible. Nobody in Ravensport should be capable of such a summoning.”

“Clever Dryad. For those brains, you shall be the last to die.” Mr Upside-Down croaked, filling our hearts with fear unlike we had ever felt, “I will enjoy devouring your mind most of all.” 

Unfortunately for Mr Upside-Down, Axel Englebert does not take kindly to people threatening his beloved wife. He charged at our foe with reckless abandon and began to swing his awe-inspiring axe, Soulcleaver. Before we could all be doused in what would undoubtedly be revolting demon innards, Soulcleaver dropped to the ground. Axel, however, did not. With a click of his fingers, Mr. Upside-Down sent Axel about 20 feet in the air, flipping him upside-down. Which again, rather obvious. He is not a creative man. Well, demon. Also, it should be noted that our own Mr. Englebert was not wearing anything below his war skirt. Alnora didn’t seem to mind, but Grinkle and I were none too pleased.

“That is disgusting,” Grinkle started, “seriously Ally? That’s enough for you. He may be 3 times my size but I can now firmly promise you I am at least twice the man Axel is. Well, Gnome. And Hillperson. The ratios are the same, I’m sure. That is. Wow, that's sad.”

“Oh hush you infernal Gnome. I assure you it is plenty. My beloved is a grower, not a shower.” Alnora responded, with a smirk.

“What are you guys talking about? I can’t hear anything from up here!” Axel roared.

“ENOUGH WITH THE INFERNAL JABBERING. IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO DIE.” Mr. Upside-Down screeched, clearly upset.

Before I could chip in with some witty commentary, he had us all up in the air with Axel. Now, I know what you’re all thinking. He’s not very quick for a demon, is he? No, he is not. Now, most demons will quite famously arrive at a village at one minute to midnight, rip its people to shreds, make their nest, and be done before the new day begins. Fortunately for us, demons of the 3rd Circle are much less ravenous. They’re like cats, they play with their food. Unfortunately for us, they are much more powerful than the average demon. Most people haven’t really heard of a demon from a circle higher than the 5th on the mortal plane, so I’ll put it like this- smaller the circle number, stronger the demon. Hell is, by all accounts, a brutally succinct hierarchy. That’s not to say we’re your average group of adventurers. After all- who better to fend off a ravenous beast like Mr. Upside-Down than the human mountain, a literal force of nature, unrelenting fury in the form of a gnome and the thirty-sixth in line to the Royal Throne of Balmorris? Nobody, that’s who. We may be unorthodox, but surely the world knows by now what we’re capable of. Mr. Upside-Down sure didn’t though. 

“Any time now Alnora, dear.” I asked, politely.

“Oh right, yes sir.” Alnora responded as she began raising her hands, “Oh Nature, I call on thee. You are mine and I am yours, hear my command and respond in time: su sdnib taht cigaM soahC eht esreveR .”

Alnora’s magic is yet to fail us, so naturally we plummeted down from his hellish trap almost as soon as he raised us up in the first place. Chaos Magic is powerful, but it’s, well, chaotic. No other magic exists in the Circles of Hell, so one can assume Mr. Upside-Down had no idea there was anything stronger. When wielded by someone with mastery as precise as our dear Alnora’s, there is no magic in our Mortal Realm as powerful as Nature Magic. In the most secluded forests or bustling cities, it surrounds us. Nature magic is what we breathe, what we see, and what we are. Of course, we all know this. People of the Mortal Realm, I mean. Unfortunately for Mr. Upside-Down, he is not from around here. 

“Excellent work as always Alnora darling. Now then- I think perhaps the flurry? Whilst he’s distracted, I mean. That sound good to you, Grinkle?” I asked our tactician. He may be vulgar and mean and honestly rather ugly- but his mind for strategy is simply unparalleled.

“I-i wouldn’t have come up with the flurry advance if it didn’t work, boss. Let’s do it.” Grinkle responded, still catching his breath from the fall.

Before Mr. Upside-Down could even begin to comprehend what was happening, we got to work. Alnora summoned tendrils from the ground to hold him down whilst Axel retrieved Soulcleaver and began to charge. Now, Soulcleaver (as I’m sure you’ve all heard), really can separate the soul from its victims. That was a moot point there though, as demons do not have those. Souls, I mean. Axel took both of the wicked beings arms off in two clean swings, and before you could blink Grinkle Gronkle had sprinted in behind and removed his legs. Finally, I swiftly and with no mercy shot a stardust-tipped arrow clean through his heart. It’s the only way to kill a demon, after all. I carry three in my quiver at all times for just such an occasion. 

“What the fuck just happened?” Mr Upside-Down whispered before his body exploded in a startling flash of chaotic ember. Its remains then suddenly imploded into nothingness, as all demons do when they exit the mortal plane.

  They are, sadly, immortal beings. Upon extermination, demons just go back to where they came from, ‘where’ being Hell. Unfortunately for Mr. Upside-Down, I have it on good authority that upon returning home, demons are forced to relocate to the 7th Circle and work their way back up the food chain. That’s something I suppose, a silver lining. Or I guess stardust-lining is more accurate. Regardless, the being had been exterminated and it seemed our job was done. 

“Why is the city still so quiet? Surely it would’ve been freed from the demon’s magic upon its exit from our world?” Alnora asked, confused.

I looked around for a moment before I noticed the golden stopwatch lying on the ground. Odd. A regular golden stopwatch would not have withstood a demon’s explosion/implosion. I then put two and two together, remembering the odd shimmer I spotted when he first showed up. 

“Ah. Curse watch. Clever really, for a demon. Ones that are powerful don’t particularly get anything from murdering any old civilian, it’s essentially a waste of, well, time for them. It seems he’s trapped the town in a sort of stasis. Time has stopped, kind of. Interesting stuff. I think I’m going to keep this.” I answered, before picking up the watch.

I simply pressed the button protruding from its top and life in Ravensport resumed. People filled the streets as if they were never empty, although some stopped in puzzlement to look at the adventurers in the street who were not there a moment ago. We showed the local Alderman our committee identification, explained what had happened, and left that place. We were all still in a state of confusion as we left, barely a word has been spoken in the last day. We’re currently on our way to Eggersport to deal with a Class 3 Witch-Baron that’s gotten a bit big for her britches, but I know none of us have really thought about that yet. How could we, when we’re still completely answerless in regards to perhaps the biggest mystery of our careers: How in the world did a demon from the 3rd circle get here? And how was he strong enough to make a watch that stops time, but not strong enough to handle what was frankly one of our weaker assaults? My best guess is that he did not make that watch. 

Oh well, that’s a problem for future us. I suppose for now we deal with this greedy witch. Pardon the cliché. Until next time, adoring fans, this has been Alexander Paragon’s merry band of adventurers and their twenty-sixth sanctioned battle with a Fantastical Being.

Diary distributed into the Ether Space by Ignatious Coppersmith of the Fantastical Being Extermination Committee Public Relations department.