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Our perfect fantasy book will have...

Charon, uncharacteristically for a skeleton, laughed.

"Why, lovely Aliana, whom they call Bitsy, I believe you got confused with Achilles's dipping in the river Styx." Charon paused. "I've always been pissed with Achilles's mother, as she did not seek my permission to do what she did in my river."

"Anyway," he brought himself back from his moment of reflection, "the tribe you seek has ventured forth deeper into the forest."

"Where?"

Charon pointed upstream. "By the way, nice collection of expletives."

Aliana, also known as Bitsy, beamed. "Thanks!"

So she picked herself up, and resumed her journey deeper into the Amazon forest.

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Perfect fantasy? Hmmm. I know one thing that makes much of it imperfect. Or at least, one of my major gripes against Fantasy. Most fantasy is about kings and lords arguing over chairs. Fantasy grants the author all the leeway in the world, this world or any other, and they almost always settle on plotlines I could find in history of the British Monarchy books. Fantasy main characters: Guy that is king, guy that is going to be king, and women that conspire to get one or the other there. The forementioned A Song of Ice and Fire is guilty of this. Must Fantasy be the Fantasies of men who think they'd make good kings in alternate universes or women who think they'd be power behind the king? Are there no Dickensian heroes in Fantasy?
 
direstraits said:
Charon, uncharacteristically for a skeleton, laughed.

"Why, lovely Aliana, whom they call Bitsy, I believe you got confused with Achilles's dipping in the river Styx." Charon paused. "I've always been pissed with Achilles's mother, as she did not seek my permission to do what she did in my river."

"Anyway," he brought himself back from his moment of reflection, "the tribe you seek has ventured forth deeper into the forest."

"Where?"

Charon pointed upstream. "By the way, nice collection of expletives."

Aliana, also known as Bitsy, beamed. "Thanks!"

So she picked herself up, and resumed her journey deeper into the Amazon forest.

ds
Click to expand...

Bitsy feels lonely. Charon has had to let her go on alone, as his hands are full with resuscitating the baby with a variety of mouth to mouth and Heimlich maneuvers. Fortunately, he is succcessful and is now feeding baby Achilles with small pieces of soggy burger.
Bitsy decides to use her cell phone to call her brother, Big Boris, and ask him to join her. He got way-laid by a fetching serving-wench, back in the inn they visited. Reluctantly, he drags himself away from his bit of fluff and paraglides into a clearing in the Amazon, of which there are surprisingly many ( may as well have the conservationist angle, as well). Together, once again, they set off .......
 
...towards the heart of adventure followed by their devoted hamster-armadillo. They walk for hours through the dense bush, Big Boris hacking his way through the undergrowth with the enthisiasm of Genghis Khan hacking his way through his enemies. They stop to drink from a clear spring when they suddenly notice that Snuffles is no longer with them! He's...
 
james-river-sunset%20fantasy.jpg
 
climbed on to a strange blue ball and can now be seen floating off into the starry night, above the Amazon. Bitsy is distraught, her beloved armidillo-shelled pet hamster is in danger of disappearing into space. Can anything save him?
 
No, nothing can save that darling pet, because this is a serious fantasy tale thread where people die or at least APPEAR to die for at least one post. The blue ball sails away into outer space with Snuffles who, we must assume, dies from lack of oxygen. Bitsy, being a true heroine, makes a distraught sound, but is otherwise OK and prepared to go on inspite of this HORRIBLE loss. Big Boris however is crying so hard he can barely stand up. Then...
 
... a painting falls out of the sky! Amazing! Aliana Bitsy excitedly picks up the painting and studies it.

"Hmm... looks like somebody didn't clean up after a fire. Tut-tut, that's a sloppy case of giving your location away, with all that smoke."

"Yeah, and that tree's crap too." Big Boris is quite small when it comes to art appreciation.

"I disagree. Look at how the branches jut out here and here and here. And the bark depiction? Brilliant."

"But it's so bland."

"Yeah, that's probably true, or simply intepretation. A similar tree growing behind our house back in Amergin has red flowers."

An Amazonian vanguard, tiptoeing behind them in an attempted surprise attack, feel asleep at this most astute artistic appraisal.

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Waking with a start, the vanguard hurriedly disentangle themselves and their poisonous spears. Blushing under Aliana Bitsy's fixed stare, they readjust their loin clothes and lurch forward. But they are not quick enough for Big Boris, who although lacking in art appreciation and fortitude under emotional circumstances, is very quick on his feet. It is but the work of a moment to have them all trussed with a sturdy rope that he happens to be carrying on his person.
Once more they set forth into the depths of the Amazonian rain forest, with Big Boris hauling the captive warriors behind him.
 
Suddenly Big Boris notices that Aliana Bitsy is not with him. He turns around and finds her gazing at her own reflection in the pool, muttering:
- I wonder if I should dye my hair purple? Or is that just sooo last year? Whaddya think, BB?
Big Boris, who inspite of his other failures, is usually a very patient brother...
 
...but not this time.

"You silly sod! Here we are on a mission to do a greater good, and what do you do? Don't you know the meaning of purpose? What sort of reputation are you giving adventurers everywhere? You're a Level 25 Realm-wide Class Spellcaster for crying out loud! Purple???!!! You should be thinking of flaming red!!!" Big Boris was quite winded at this tirade.

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[INTERUPT YOUR REGULAR PROGRAMMING]

I have to say that this experiment for a perfect fantasy book as failed quite spectacularly. However, I am pleased to say that I am having lots of fun.

[/INTERUPT YOUR REGULAR PROGRAMMING]

ds
 
direstraits said:
...but not this time.

"You silly sod! Here we are on a mission to do a greater good, and what do you do? Don't you know the meaning of purpose? What sort of reputation are you giving adventurers everywhere? You're a Level 25 Realm-wide Class Spellcaster for crying out loud! Purple???!!! You should be thinking of flaming red!!!" Big Boris was quite winded at this tirade.

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Click to expand...

The black crow from the painting that fell out of the sky, suddenly comes to life and squawks "I have a message for you, from afar. Word has reached me that Snuffles, your pet armidillo-hamster, has survived his perilous journey and is now sojourning in a strange land filled with Riggerwalds, Nurgles and pesky little Tommys. Your mission, if you choose to accept, is to go and rescue him (this message will self-destruct in 30 seconds:rolleyes: )
 
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