"Is he there yet
"Yes ...just as we planned
Arel Glyndove followed the ticking gear's strange humming sound. It led him straight to a small, dusty building with a sign that creaked in the wind: "The Bent Timepiece." Inside, it was a mess. Tables looked like they were melting, and the air smelled like old socks and something vaguely fruity.
At a wobbly table sat a man with wild, gray hair and eyes that darted around like startled sparrows. This was Barnaby Bumblewick, Chronomancer, or so he claimed.
"Ah, another traveler!" Barnaby exclaimed, nearly knocking over a stack of dusty scrolls. "Welcome, welcome! You look like you could use a drink. How about a nice, aged ale?"
Before Arel could answer, Barnaby waved his hand, and a barrel behind the bar started to glow. Then, it turned brown and shriveled.
"Oh dear," Barnaby said, scratching his head. "That didn't go quite as planned. A bit too much aging, I think."
He waved his hand again, and the shriveled barrel puffed up, but now it was full of raw barley.
"Or maybe too little," he muttered. "Right, let's try this…"
He waved his hand a third time, and the barley turned into a bubbling, green liquid.
"This," Barnaby said proudly, "is my time-stabilized brew! Guaranteed to… well, it's guaranteed to do something!"
Arel, who just wanted to find out why his gear was buzzing like a trapped bee, asked, "What exactly does it do?"
"Oh, you know," Barnaby said, waving his hand vaguely. "A little time here, a little time there. Keeps things interesting!"
Arel decided to pass on the green brew. "I'm looking for something. My gear is acting strange." He held up the ticking gear.
Barnaby's eyes widened. "That's a powerful artifact! But why is it ticking so oddly? Are you experiencing temporal displacement? Are you perhaps seeing your own past or future?"
"I don't think so," Arel said. "I just want to know why it led me here."
"Ah, you must be here for the Temporal Compass!" Barnaby said, his voice suddenly serious. "It's gone! Stolen!"
"What's a Temporal Compass?" Arel asked.
"It's a magical artifact that helps you control time," Barnaby explained, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And it's missing! I was supposed to be guarding it, but… well, time got away from me."
"When was it stolen?" Arel asked.
Barnaby blinked. "That's the problem. I don't know. Time is a tricky thing, you see. It could have been yesterday, or a hundred years ago, or maybe even tomorrow!"
Arel sighed. This was going to be a long day.
"So, you have no idea who stole it, or when?" Arel asked.
"Not exactly," Barnaby said. "But I think they might be time-traveling thieves! They're probably stealing valuable artifacts from different points in history!"
"How do you know that?" Arel asked.
"Because," Barnaby said, pointing to a half-eaten sandwich that was floating a few inches above the table, "that sandwich is from the royal kitchens of Aethelgard, three years ago! And it's still warm!"
Arel looked at the floating sandwich, then back at Barnaby. "Okay, so we need to find these time-traveling thieves. But how?"
"We follow the time ripples!" Barnaby said, his eyes lighting up. "Every time they steal something, they leave a little disturbance in the flow of time. Like… like a hiccup!"
"And how do we find these hiccups?" Arel asked.
"Well," Barnaby said, pulling out a large, dusty map, "we start by looking for places where time is acting… funny."
He pointed to a spot on the map. "Like here! The village of Glimmerbrook. They say the chickens there are laying eggs that hatch into fully grown roosters!"
Arel looked at the map, then back at Barnaby. "Chickens?"
"Yes!" Barnaby said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "It's a clear sign of temporal tampering! Come on, let's go!"
Arel Glyndove, locksmith, found himself embarking on a time-traveling adventure with a confused Chronomancer, following a trail of time hiccups and chicken-related anomalies. He had a feeling his doorknob-polishing days were over, at least for a little while.
_________________________
Arel followed Barnaby out of the "Bent Timepiece," the door creaking shut behind them with a sound like a rusty hinge. The village of Glimmerbrook was a few hours' walk, according to Barnaby, though Arel suspected that Barnaby's sense of time was as reliable as a sundial in a storm.
"So," Arel said, as they set off down the stone path, "these time ripples… are they visible? Do they, like, glow? Also it surely has something to do with Rakra right?"
"Oh, no," Barnaby said, waving his hand. "They're more… subtle. Like a feeling. A sense of… wrongness and please it's Rekra you dum dum."
Arel raised an eyebrow. "Oh ? ....Wrongness?"
"Yes! Like when you walk into a room and you just know something's off? That's a time ripple!" Barnaby explained, his wild hair bouncing. "Except, you know, with time."
Arel just nodded, deciding it was best not to question Barnaby's logic too closely.
As they walked, Barnaby kept stopping to point at things and declare them "time ripples." A crooked fence post, a cloud shaped like a fish, a particularly loud cricket – all, according to Barnaby, were signs of temporal tampering.
"See that tree?" Barnaby asked, pointing to a large oak. "It's growing acorns in the middle of winter! Clear time ripple!"
Arel looked at the tree. It was indeed growing acorns, but he suspected it was more likely a case of a slightly confused tree than a temporal anomaly.
"Are you sure it's not just a… weird tree?" Arel asked.
"Nonsense!" Barnaby said, tapping his temple. "I can feel the time ripples! They're practically shouting at me!"
They reached Glimmerbrook just as the sun was beginning to set. The village looked normal enough, with thatched-roof cottages and smoke curling from chimneys. But as they walked through the village square, Arel noticed a few odd things. A cat was chasing its own tail in a perfect circle, a group of children were playing hopscotch with invisible squares, and a baker was selling loaves of bread that were simultaneously fresh and stale.
"See?" Barnaby said, pointing at the baker. "Temporal tampering! Clear as day!"
They reached a small chicken coop at the edge of the village. Inside, the chickens were indeed laying eggs that hatched into fully grown roosters. The roosters, in turn, were laying eggs that hatched into chicks. It was a chaotic cycle of life.
"This is definitely a time ripple," Arel admitted.
"How do they even survive and here"
"Told you!" Barnaby said, beaming. "Now, we just need to find out who's causing it."
They approached a villager, a woman with a bewildered expression, who was trying to herd a group of rooster-chicks back into the coop.
"Excuse me," Arel asked. "Have you noticed anything… unusual happening here?"
"Unusual?" the woman asked, her voice strained. "Everything's unusual! These chickens are driving me mad! And dogs keeps turning into a squirrel!"
"A squirrel?" Arel asked.
"Yes!" the woman said. "And then back into a dog! It's very confusing!"
Barnaby's eyes lit up. "Time slips! Clear evidence of temporal tampering!"
"Do you have any idea who might be causing this?" Arel asked.
The woman shook her head. "No idea. But I saw a group of strange people near the old clock tower earlier today. They were wearing… shiny clothes, and they kept looking at their… wrist-things."
"Wrist-things?" Arel asked.
"Yes! Like… like tiny clocks!" the woman said.
"Time-traveling thieves!" Barnaby exclaimed. "They must be using the Temporal Compass to steal things from different time periods!"
"And they're messing with the chickens?" Arel asked.
"Collateral damage," Barnaby said, waving his hand dismissively. "They're probably not very good at controlling time. Amateurs, I'd say."
"So, where's this clock tower?" Arel asked.
"It's at the top of the hill," the woman said, pointing towards a crumbling stone tower. "But be careful. They looked… shifty."
"Shifty?" Arel asked.
"Yes! And they smelled like… old cheese," the woman said.
"Old cheese?" Arel asked.
"Yes! Very pungent," the woman said.
"Right then," Arel said, trying to ignore the smell of old cheese, "to the clock tower!"
Arel and Barnaby made their way up the winding path to the old clock tower, the air growing thick with the pungent aroma of, indeed, old cheese. The tower itself was a crumbling stone structure, its clock face cracked and its gears rusted, yet a faint, shimmering Rekra aura pulsed around it.
"See that?" Barnaby whispered, pointing to the shimmering air. "Temporal distortion! And a strong Rekra. They're definitely here."
As they approached the tower's entrance, Arel noticed that the stone around the doorway seemed to ripple, as if time was withering at the edges. He also felt a subtle, a tugging sensation, like something was trying to pull him in different directions at once.
"They're messing with the Rekra flow," Arel said, his voice low. "It feels… unstable."
"Exactly!" Barnaby said, nodding enthusiastically. "They're probably using the Temporal Compass to create a time vortex! A gateway to any point in history!"
They cautiously entered the tower. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of old cheese and the sound of whirring gears. A faint, violet glow emanated from the top of the tower, casting long, distorted shadows across the stone floor.
"Upstairs," Barnaby whispered, pointing towards a spiral staircase. "That's where the Rekra signature is strongest."
They ascended the staircase, the stone steps worn and uneven. As they reached the top, they found themselves in a small chamber, filled with strange devices and glowing artifacts. In the center of the chamber, a group of figures, clad in shiny, mismatched clothing, were huddled around a large, ornate compass, its needle spinning wildly.
"Time-traveling thieves!" Barnaby exclaimed, his voice a little too loud.
The figures turned, their faces a mixture of surprise and annoyance. They were a motley crew, with mismatched clothing and a distinct air of incompetence. One of them, a tall, thin man with a handlebar mustache, held the Temporal Compass, its needle spinning erratically.
"Who are you?" the man demanded, his voice high-pitched. "And how did you find us?"
"We're here to stop you!" Barnaby declared, puffing out his chest. "You're tampering with time! And stealing sandwiches!"
"Sandwiches?" the man asked, his brow furrowed. "We're gathering Rekra! Not sandwiches!"
"And chickens!" Arel added, thinking of the poor villager.
"Collateral damage!" a woman with a bright pink wig said, waving her hand dismissively. "We can't control everything!"
"And you smell like old cheese!" Arel said.
"That's the temporal displacement field!" another thief with a monocle sputtered. "It's a side effect!"
Barnaby raised his hands, his eyes glowing with Rekra energy. "Enough! Return the Temporal Compass! And stop messing with time!"
"Never!" the man with the mustache shouted, clutching the compass tightly. "We're going to use this to travel through time, past and future, and gather enough Rekra to build the strength of our new cult!"
He turned the compass, and a swirling vortex of Rekra energy began to form in the center of the chamber. The air crackled with energy, and the room began to shake.
"They're creating a time vortex!" Barnaby shouted. "We have to stop them!"
Arel, remembering the strange tugging sensation he felt earlier, realized that the vortex was destabilizing the Rekra flow around the tower. If they didn't stop them, the entire village could be pulled into the vortex.
"We need to disrupt the Rekra flow!" Arel said. "But how?"
Barnaby, despite his earlier blunders, seemed to be focusing. He raised his hands, his eyes glowing brighter. "I can try to stabilize the vortex! But I need time!"
"I'll keep them busy!" Arel said, grabbing a nearby rusted gear. He charged towards the thieves, ready to face the time-traveling, cheese-smelling, chicken-tampering cultists.
Arel, holding the rusty gear, ran at the time thieves. He wasn't a fighter, but he moved quickly. He hit the woman with the pink wig, and her shiny hat fell off and she dropped at once.
He tripped, but got up and hit the man with the glass eye on the arm. The man yelled and dropped his glass eye.
"Curse you!" the leader yelled. He tried to use the compass to hurt Arel, but Arel dodged. He felt dizzy, like his head was full of mixed-up thoughts.
Barnaby was busy. His hands moved, and his eyes glowed. The swirling time hole started to slow down.
Arel saw his chance. He grabbed the compass from the leader. The compass spun, and the time hole disappeared. There was smoke and the smell of burnt cheese.
The thieves were on the floor, hurt. Some tried to run, but they were too slow.
"We'll be back!" the leader said weakly. "Our group will be strong!"
"Not while I'm here," Barnaby said. He picked up the compass. "This is safe now."
Arel looked around. The room was messy. "They won't be back soon," he said. "But some ran away."
"They were not good at this," Barnaby said. "They are new."
Arel picked up the broken glass eye. "And they smell bad."
"Yes," Barnaby said. "Maybe they don't wash."
He looked at the compass. "This is strong. We must be careful."
"What about them?" Arel asked, pointing to the thieves.
"We leave them," Barnaby said. "They can't do anything. And the chickens can keep them company."
Arel laughed. "Let's go. I smell like cheese too."
They left the tower. The sun was going down. The chickens were still strange, and the dog was still turning into a squirrel. But the time hole was gone. And Arel had a magic compass and a new friend.