Terrible minds spin the wheel challenge part two

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/01/11/flash-fiction-challenge-the-wheel-part-two/

I spun:

· 2 Comic Fantasy

· 6 Heist gone wrong!

· 1 Demonic possession

Well, if nothing else, I am learning what all these genres mean. Max 1,000 words.

Comic fantasy is a subgenre of fantasy that is primarily humorous in intent and tone. Usually set in imaginary worlds, comic fantasy often includes puns on and parodies of other works of fantasy. It is sometimes known as low fantasy in contrast to high fantasy, which is primarily serious in intent and tone. The term "low fantasy" is used to represent other types of fantasy, however, so while comic fantasies may also correctly be classified as low fantasy, many examples of low fantasy are not comic in nature.

Demonic possession is held by many belief systems to be the control of an individual by a malevolent supernatural being. Descriptions of demonic possessions often include erased memories or personalities, convulsions, “fits” and fainting as if one were dying.

Autonous Dash - a gnome

Legget Dillow - a dwarf

Artair Outerbridge - a wizard

Iago Saksa - a hobbit

I swear I used the scrivener name generator and these are the names it gave me… its psychic. I went for a Hobbit world. An hobbit? Meh, whatever. 900 words

~~~~~~~

Hobbit heist

They rushed through, then slammed and barricaded the door behind them. A quick binding spell to cover it, and that would have to do. They stepped back from the door and looked around. They were on the roof of the goblin bank. The goblin bank that they had just robbed.

“Ha! I told you the security was poor,” crowed Iago Saksa, the hobbit. Not happy with a neat hole in the ground, he had taken up a life of crime and was now a source of much sadness for his family. He patted the bags of gold tied around his body.

Autonous Dash, the gnome they had left to guard the exit, looked nervous. He muttered something very low that Artair Outerbridge (wizard-in-training) only heard because of his extreme hearing. “What do you mean the eagles aren’t here? That was the deal. That was what we paid them for.”

Artair passed him a gnome sized backpack full of gold to carry.

“I know… but…” He shrugged. “They’re… not… here.” He spread the words out, as if they would make more sense with a gap in between.

“I don’t think we should have gone in, if we didn’t have a way of gettin’ out. You know. In and out,” said Iago.

Legget Dillow snorted like a twelve year old boy, or the equivalent, a forty year old dwarf.

“This isn’t a joke!” Artair hissed. “This is our lives.” He pointed at the barricaded door. “What is that, coming up the stairs behind the door?”

“It sounds kind of loud,” Legget admitted.

“Sounds like a troll,” put in Iago. “Maybe a cave troll.”

“A troll. Right. And how do we get off this roof?”

“Oh, I know this one. We fly,” said Autonous.

Artair smacked himself in the forehead.

“Ooooh…,” said Legget, “we can’t fly. We haven’t got any eagles.”

Artair muttered, “What do you get when you rob a goblin bank with a gnome, a dwarf, a hobbit and a trainee wizard?”

“Is that a joke?” asked Iago. “I think I know that one.”

“You get DEAD!” Artair shouted. “And this is a joke.” He pointed at his accomplices.

“Pfft. Keep your skirt on,” Legget said.

“And it’s not a skirt; it’s a robe!”

“Probably better for in and out,” suggested Leggett, with another snort.

There was an enormous bang against the door.

“Trolls are magic resistant,” said Autonous. “Won’t hold him.”

“I know,” hissed Artair. He looked around. Still no eagles. “Where are the eagles?”

“They came and then they left,” added Autonous.

“Pardon?” And then Artair got an awful feeling. “Did you pay them with the gold we left here?”

“No.” Autonous took a tiny step backwards. “I wrote them a cheque.”

“A cheque?”

“Yes.” He nodded happily.

“You… the forger… wrote them a cheque?” Artair asked. “On this bank, perchance?”

“Do you think they don’t trust me?”

“What name did you put on it?” asked Legget.

“Oh,” said Autonous. “I see.”

There was an awkward silence.

Iago coughed quietly; cleared his throat, coughed again and then threw himself backwards on the rooftop and went into spasms.

“What the heck?” asked Legget. “He’s foaming at the mouth.”

“He’s possessed. That’s it! We are all going to die.” Artair started to pace back and forth.

“Yes, and today,” bellowed Iago in a voice that didn’t sound like his normal voice.

“Who are you?” Artair asked the shuddering body.

“Bank security.”

“Security is a demon?” Artair asked in disbelief.

“Of course. I made contact with this vessel, a week ago, when he was loitering. With intent, I might add.”

“What is your name?”

“I’m not going to tell you my name; names have power. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“He’s got you there, boss,” said Autonous. He shut his mouth at the withering look from Artair.

“So what do you want, nameless demon? I warn you though, do not meddle in the affairs of wizards for they are subtle and quick to anger.” Artair tried to look confident.

“Oh, puleez,” the demon voice hissed out of Iago’s mouth. “You think this robbery was subtle?”

“Certainly not quick,” muttered Legget.

“He’s delaying us until the troll breaks the door down,” pointed out Autonous.

“Smart gnome,” said the demon.

“He’s NOT SMART! He’s the one who got us into this crap by giving the eagles a forged cheque!” Artair raged.

The demon snorted and then laughed. He guffawed and each time he stopped; it just started again. He was rendered powerless.

Artair shot a flare spell up into the air. Then he started to shake the bag of gold in his hand. Legget looked confused.

“Eagles.” Artair touched his ear. “They’ll hear the gold clink.”

Leggett started to look around. He pointed. “There. The eagles are coming… back.”

Four gigantic birds swooped down and closed their enormous talons around the bodies of the four on the roof. “Not Iago,” Artair protested, but it was too late.

“Pfft. Keep your skirt on,” Legget shouted across the sky to him.

“It’s not a skirt; it’s a robe!”

“Bit breezy now, though, eh?” said Autonous.

Artair glared at him. “This is your fault.”

“It has turned out okay,” the gnome argued.

“Really? We are taking bank security back to our hideout.” He pointed at the still chuckling, possessed body of Iago.

“Oh. I see.” He gave Artair a weak smile. “You can have the top bunk boss.”