Blauhaus, after watching the pesky friends of his children leave, lifts up the tattered carpet of his simple wooden hut. A large iron ring rests on the floor, covered in dust. Blauhaus leans over, his ancient joints cracking, and slips his hand through the heavy metal circle. He heaves the ring up to reveal a doorway cut into the floor. No light penetrates the deep blackness. A shaft of light cuts across the window, illuminating particles of dust as they float in the air. The dark hole seems to breathe in and out, the bits of floating debris pulsating up and down.
Blauhaus peers into the hole, waiting expectedly. The corners of his mouth twitch as he nervously rubs his hands together.
Slowly, a black dome pokes up from the hole. As it moves higher, a small pair of eyes can be seen. Suddenly, the entire body rockets out of the hole and into the air, somersaulting, and landing lightly on its feet.
The slight figure, crouching low to the floor, bellows out in a deep, rumbling voice, “Who dares summon Rovert’anti the Space Ninja!”
In a squeaking voice, Blauhaus replies, “It is I! Blauhaus of Creighton, wizard from the forest of Sherwood!”
The ninja stands to his full height, nearly 7’. His body is covered in a black material, almost like strips of tape wrapped around his body. It is so dense, it seems like light is sucked into it. Light does not reflect off its surface. He seems to melt into the shadows. HIs eyes do not blink.
“Foul wizard. You do not know what forces you tamper with!” Rovert`anti slowly slides a katana from its sheath on his hip and takes steps toward Blauhaus. He smiles, revealing a row of tiny sharp teeth, almost like a shark.
Blauhaus looks at him from across the room. He shakes.
- I - I possess the Staff of Harnock! You must do my will!” Blauhaus thrusts a wooden staff, made from a tree limb, into the air. A small notch is carved into the side, near the top. A small ruby sits dully in the side.
The ninja stops and looks at him for what feels like an eternity to poor Blauhaus. He finally speaks, “Fine. What is your will?”
Outside, Steve Van Cleeve and Roy Jenkins walk away from the wooden hut wearily, their bodies tied from combat. They walk through the dismal little town to the Stinking Pig, looking for a drink.