Adventures in Minifigures: Part 3 - Narly

"Dude.... Dude are you OK man?" The boxer's eyes blurred his surroundings and made out a fuzzy blue figure stood right in front of him. His ears felt blocked with water and his entire body stung like a swarm of wasps taken revenge on him for all the times he had trapped them inside a glass.


"I just saw a gigantor fall to his knees like a sinking ship. It was narly man, like you had been taken by the dark side or something." The boxer grumbled at the surfers apperent hippie-like excitement, trying to focus his eyes on the dusty and dimly lit surroundings. He thought back to his encounter the evening before. At least he thought the night had past, the sun appeared to be rising through eh stark cold and dankness of dawn. 


He thought he had just been dreaming. A bad dream, maybe a nightmare, granted. But it appeared to be reality. His mind flashed over the moment of contact between his hand and the guard's face several times, like a broken record. As he staggered to his feet and gritted his teeth through the pain of his bruised legs and stomach, he tried to make more logical sense of where he was. It appeared like an old ruined long lost city of the Aztec tribes or the Roman empire or something, like he had read about when he was a child. He just couldn't understand.


As his eyes cleared and the dusty and crumbling surface of the towering structures that surrounded the courtyard he found himself in came into focus, he suddenly realised: He turned to his strange companion and looked puzzled. He boomed out inquisitively in his Viking-like voice: "Why do you have a snowboard?"


The stranger just laughed, as if it was normal to walk around with a snowboard under your arm, through the wilderness that he found himself in. "I am a Snowboard Guy man!" He exclaimed through the chuckles.

Adventures in Minifigures - Part 2. The Boxer with a License to Kill

While the Royal Guard stood there pondering his role in life, a hulk like silhouette staggered proudly over the crest beyond the city and strode up the the city gate. 1 eye was blackened like soot and there were bloodied stains on his chest and gloves. His chest pushed out falsely, asserting what he had once been, while his eyes showed what he had become. 

With the storm clouds leading of in the distance, like a flock of geese, the setting sun bronzed the dilapidated walls of the city in cold winter sunlight 1 last time before it would set for a long and cold night.

The Boxer stood in front of the Guard, frozen still as a statue.The Boxer opened his crumpled mouth and uttered inquisitive words of the place which stood before him in booming words of pain and depth of knowledge deeper than the ocean. The Guard stood there is stony silence. He saw what confronted him and was puzzled by his movement and his grace. The Boxer grew impatient for an answer, and with no warning, lashed out at the Royal Guard with 1 clean and well timed punch. It hit the Guard with significant force. He just swayed backwards on his heels ever so gently, as if moved by the wind. This surprised the Boxer and he stood there with an expression somewhere between confusion and astonishment. The only response from the Guard was a tiny twitch of the nose, not noticeable to the human eye

There was a grinding rumbling noise coming for deep within the wall. The Boxer swivelled his head quickly to see a rusty and wind beaten wrought iron port cullis grumble and groan before him, before it grated against the sandstone that encased and started to rise painfully slowly upwards. 

As the Boxer stood bravely across the threshold, there was one last triumphant gush of wind which fluttered the Boxers shorts around his muscular thighs before dying away into the distant horizon which surrounded the walled city. The Boxer took in his surroundings...

Adventures in Minifigues - Part 1. The Royal Guard of Epsilon

The church bells creaked as the howling wind ripped through every damp alley way and the great gate towers at the entrance to the city moaned of old age and uncontrollable torture. The crumbling stone shivered as the biting north winds dug into it like knives and daggers. 

A figure in a blood red jacket and immaculate trousers stood at the entrance to the desolate city, next to a rotting wooden sign which read 'Epsilon.' He seemed oblivious to the awful winds that affected even the most strong and robust of buildings. Occasionally the bearskin fur on his tall Busby, but that was the only sign of life that was shown. He was still as stone.

But in his mind there was quite a chaos of thoughts. He was sick and tired of being stood there. The trouble was, he didn't know if he could move. He felt encased in concrete, like a stature on it's plinth, there for eternity. He often played imaginary chess with himself, or had a game of football. He played for the Royal Guards, while the other teams was the Beefeater. Despite the Royal Guards always winning, the Beefeaters had the most fans by a long way, and this frustrated him. Oh well, he knew he couldn't let imaginary football anger get to him, so he went to imaginary school. However, he just didn't fit in. He knew all the stuff that was being taught, and there was a lot of gaps in the stuff that he learnt there. He decided to leave at lunch time and went home to watch imaginary television. They only showed one program over and over again, on every channel, which he got bored of after a while and just stood there, lost in the deserted and ruined city which he was appointed to guard.

All the Royal Guard wanted was some company. Some living breathing flesh to take photos of him and point at him like they used to before he was relocated. I suppose he would just have live with what he had, so he flicked back to an imaginary game of tennis. It was pretty rubbish actually. His opponent couldn't even hit the ball back...

That's it until next time! Don't forget to come back for the next chapter of The Adventures in Minfigures!