Genre Bender: The Quest

Cammeh

The mascot formerly known as Cammytrice
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Light fantasy, historical, steampunk, some post-apocalyptic (think, biker rust-punk), anthro (non-anime furry), modern, some sci fi...this & that, I'm pretty random. I don't mind getting frisky as well!
The point of a genre-bender is to take a well known, genre related trope or story starter and transplant it into another genre.

And, in honor of the Fantasy Festival this month, all Genre Bender Challenges this month will be based on Fairy Tale tropes!


The Quest

The Hero and his minions party members travel across the world with a firm goal in mind: to recover a McGuffin, Save the Princess, defeat the Big Bad, or all of the above. Quite possibly an Impossible Task, set by a king or Queen, just to get rid of him. Will usually involve lots of incidental minor adventures, running into oracles and wise men, fantastic creatures and damsels dispensing items that may help him on his quest. It's usually set in the High Fantasy World, but your quest is to set it somewhere, ANYWHERE else! What races will you use? Where will you travel, intrepid hero? And how? How will you regale us with your tales and exploits? We eagerly anticipate your return!
 
Forgive my lateness, but I decided to have some fun with this. Behold:

“So,” said Calvin, his face hidden in between his palms, his back hunched over in an expression that combined sorrow, disbelief, acceptance and utter defeat. “Let me tell you that what you just said was one of the most inane and idiotic things I have ever heard, but I will attempt to make sense of it regardless of that,” continued Calvin, speaking through his hands, which muffled his voice. “You are telling me that four days ago, you met an old lady who read your fortune, but instead of telling you anything useful, she screamed that you were the devil incarnate, destined to destroy the world. From this, you have deduced that you will have to rebel against your fate, turn against your father, rescue, in your words, a ‘Damsel in Distress’, find the seven stones of the Moon, align them on an altar that is located in the middle of nowhere, and then bring about Utopia,” summarised Calvin.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Stephen, the man who just spent three and a half hours explaining why his theories made sense.

“And now, you want me to join you, because, I quote you ‘You would make a good Lancer, Calvin’,” continued Calvin, slowly withdrawing his hands from his face, revealing his sapphire blue eyes. The once fiery and lively gaze of Calvin was now replaced with a blank stare that reflected nothing but the deep abyss of unconditional surrender to Stephen’s idiocy.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Stephen as he nodded enthusiastically.

“I really want to have what you were smoking when you came up with this idea,” said Calvin as he stood up and stretched his limbs. “I mean, your usual shenanigans are one thing, but this is completely beyond the scope of anything I have ever seen or heard from you. Have you been taking the medicine that the doctors prescribed you so you would not have to be put into one of those nice, white jackets that have those special arms? You know, so that you do not harm yourself?” asked Calvin, letting his contempt, anger and confusion colour his voice to a tone that Stephen thought was impossible to achieve.

“But this time, it’s real! I swear it all makes perfect sense! Will you consider being my Lancer, please? I really need your help with this one, Cal. I know I can’t do this on my own, I’ll need even more people’s help,” pleaded Stephen. Calvin, however, only shook his head at Stephen’s words, then went into the kitchen, opened his fridge, took out a bottle of vodka, opened it, and returned to the living room with the bottle. He then drank almost half of the bottle in one shot, only stopping because he started coughing as the alcohol literally burned its way down into his stomach.

“All right, now that I am drunk enough,” said Calvin, still seeming very sober as the vodka had yet to take effect. “I see everything in a new perspective. But I still can not make any sense of your words. Now, if you had any physical evide-“ begun Calvin, but a mighty roar interrupted him, shaking the whole house. But it was not just an ordinary roar, it was a roar that would not have been out of place in a fantasy film when the heroes finally charged the dragon. Fearing the worst, Calvin casually walked to his front door, opened it, and then stared into the yellow eyes of a huge, red dragon.

“Ah. I presume you are looking for Stephen,” said Calvin, seemingly unaffected by the sight, even as he heard Stephen swallowed hard in the background.

“Yes, I am looking for a man named Stephen. I was told that he was recruiting members for his party. I am here to apply as his Loyal Mount,” said the dragon, nodding at Calvin’s question. To this statement, Calvin offered a simple frown, then turned towards Stephen.

“Stephen?”

“Yes?” asked Stephen, dread seeping into his voice.

“I think I am going to have to kill you after all.”