Saberwulf stumbled back, allowing ROB to smack his barstool forward in a roll. The rolling stool knocked into the merchant's legs and tripped him, putting his head right in front of the ROB. ROB reached out and grabbed the merchant's head and pulled, but all it managed to do was grab the hat. The carved cane shot out from under Saberwulf and slammed into ROB's chest, causing the robot to drop the hat and go flipping through the arena's dirt. Saberwulf stood up and placed his trademark hat on his head with an adventurer's flair.
ROB's tumble ceased, leaving the poor robot on its side. It pushes uselessly against the dirt, trying to lift itself on to its base. Saberwulf walks towards the struggling Sintendo product and took aim with his cane.
"Praise the sports of the land and water, each one. The bath by the beach, or the yacht on the sea. But of all the sweet pleasures known under the sun; A good game of Croquet's the sweetest to me." Saberwulf finishes his bit of poetry with a hard swing into ROB's base, sending the robot flying into the arena wall. Saberwulf repeated this act a couple times, pretending to aim his shots before slamming ROB somewhere else in the arena.
Elsewhere, a bar stool continues to roll, much longer than momentum should have permitted. The stool, perhaps even more mysterious than its owner, began to curve its path, rolling back towards where Saberwulf was making sport of abusing the stool's owner. The King of Beasts would like to inform you by no means are its stools sentient or attached to patrons who sit upon them, no matter how much in common they may have with that patron.
Saberwulf readies another powerful swing when he once again finds himself tripped by a rolling stool. The cane slips from his hands as he tumbles directly onto the ROB, the sturdy Sintendo product's body harming the merchant's stomach. The ROB used this opportunity to clasp onto Saberwulf's chest and begin to twist with all its might. Saberwulf stood back up and batted the ROB off before he could get anything worse than a purple nurple. Saberwulf reached down and grabbed the stool and began to smash it against the ground in an attempt to shatter it, but the stool remained steadfast.
ROB was back on the ground and right next to Saberwulf's cane. Picking up the Polish cane, ROB began to draw a circle in the dirt. Sintendo of America is proud to remind you that every product it produces comes with an extensive knowledge of Polish mythology and folklore built-in in the off chance it might be needed. This happens to be one of those moments. Polish mythology is crazy about circles, and as ROB creates one in the arena dirt, massive trees form all around the arena. Saberwulf stops banging the stool in the dirt to stare in disbelief as the trees grow, but suddenly his staring is cut short as bright blooms appear from climbing vines. Shining as brightly as the sun, the arena is filled with trees with mystical fire flowers growing on them.
Saberwulf's goggles provide just enough protection to blot out the blinding effects of the flowers, but the light still disorients him as he seeks the ROB and his cane. ROB is sitting on the arena floor, deepening its circle as it further exploits its databanks of Polish myths and legends. Unfortunately, its small stature not only made Saberwulf unable to find it amidst the new brush, but also made it a perfect target for accidental tripping. Guess which merchant tripped over ROB? No, it wasn't the merchant of Venice. Why would you even guess that? It was Saberwulf!
ROB's circle is messed up as the boots of its opponent push dirt into its shape. ROB and Saberwulf briefly grapple on the ground, ROB tugging uselessly at feet and arms as Saberwulf pounds pointlessly against the tough plastic chassis of the Sintendo toy. Saberwulf quickly broke the grapple to retrieve his cane and putt ROB into some brush, but the merchant was getting mighty pissed at the blinding flowers obscuring his view of his tiny opponent.
Saberwulf began hacking the flowers off of the trees with the cane, its durable wood tugging the vines from the tree. The trees the flowers clung to rotted and died with their removal, encouraging the destructive deforestation of the duck-faced fiter.
Elsewhere in the arena, the ROB was picked up by a large pale hand and placed on an equally pale shoulder. The figure began to lumber towards saberwulf, its appearance obscured by the trees. Saberwulf continued hacking away at the intensely bright flowers, but suddenly he felt something strange. He began to laugh. Something was tickling Saberwulf! The merchant tried to push away the unseen tickler, but every leafy appendage pushed away was countered with tickling from a different direction. Saberwulf spun around laughing as he tried to find the tickler. The tickling was growing unbearable, painful even. Something was trying to tickle Saberwulf to death!
Yeah, its ridiculous, but hey, the Polish mythology ain't exactly the most serious mythology around.
Saberwulf struggled and struggled as the tickling failed to stop. He slammed his cane against the leafy tendrils, but they would not cease! Saberwulf fell to his knees laughing as he tried to think of someway to escape this fate he would never be able to live down. Just then, he remembered the ROB's circle in the dirt, and decided to give that a shot himself. After scrawling a hurried circle around his form, Saberwulf finally found relief from the tickle assault. He looked towards where he believed his assailant to be.
Before him stood a Leshy, a woodland spirit who protects all living things in the forest. ROB had apparently brought forth this creature when it created the forest and Fire Flowers, and the spirit was none too happy to see someone destroying the forest it was meant to protect. The Leshy set the ROB aside and hefted up a club. It could not penetrate the circle with its tickling, but it could smack the merchant from outside the circle with a chunk of wood.
ROB sat in place. It couldn't do much at the moment in the thick brush, but it didn't need to do much at this point. Deep in the summoned forest, Saberwulf dodged the blows of the Leshy. The merchant's knowledge of Polish myths was less than the robot's, but he did know a few things about his foe, one of them being that without an axe or some fire, he couldn't really harm the arboreal spirit. His mind raced as the Leshy's club smacked within inches of his body. The merchant occasionally blocked and parried the hefty blows with the cane, but it began to crack and leak an icy blue energy. Saberwulf didn't need to be told that a broken weapon can cause crazy effects, so he resumed his fleeing.
Saberwulf stumbled through the trees, but eventually he outran the Leshy. Unfortunately, anyone who encounters a Leshy in a forest is instantly and eternally lost, no matter how small the woods are. Saberwulf began taking paths he knew were wrong, but he was compelled to follow them. The Leshy and Saberwulf both barely missed running into each other multiple times. It was pretty much like the Scooby Doo door thing, except with trees.
ROB was looking around. It hoped its stool was ok. It had no idea where it went. ROB allowed itself to fall to the ground, using its arms to pull itself around the forest in search of its weapon. So, if you weren't keeping track, everyone's scrambling about the forest.
Something in Saberwulf's mind clicks. He remembers something else about the Leshy. There was a way to shake its curse.
Saberwulf got naked.
Thank giggles for forest brush, or else we would actually have to see his naughty bits!
Saberwulf put his many, many layers of found clothing back on, but it was all inside out. Saberwulf put his shoes on the wrong feet as well. As soon as he is redressed in this manner, his mind clears. His mental map of the forest returns to normal, and he quickly navigates his way through the woods and towards the last place he saw ROB.
ROB saw its trusty stool... hanging from a branch. A tree had grown out from beneath it and hooked the legs to its branches. ROB would sigh if it were capable of doing so. Saberwulf rushes through the brush and finds the crawling robot. He begins to stomp mercilessly on the prone robot, hoping to finally do some physical damage to the tough tiny toy.
"Take that, you little sales gimmick!" he screams, but the scream draws the attention of the Leshy. The duck-faced fiter curses, and picks ROB up, continuing his run through the forest. ROB begins to mess with Saberwulf's fingers, breaking a couple. Saberwulf fights through the pain until he finds the way out of the woods and away from the Leshy's domain. Saberwulf pants and sets ROB down for a bit, taking a moment to catch his breath. ROB stares at Saberwulf. It had no weapon, no physical strength, and its usual power of electricity had been shirked in favor of a stool that now dangled uselessly in the woods.
Saberwulf looked at the cane. The crack still oozed the strange aura, but it seemed sturdy. Sturdy enough for another round of ROB croquet. Saberwulf slams the cane back into ROB, but instead of the robot going sailing, it grabs onto the carved walking stick and begins to push into the wood. Saberwulf tries to wiggle it off, then bang it against the ground, then pry it off with his hands and feet, but that ROB held tight to the cane. Its robotic arms pressed into the cane, and the crack began to grow...
The cane shatters, and the icy aura fills the arena.
In the Himalayas, a nobleman sets up camp for the night. His sherpa has set up camp nearby. The two would set out in the morning to conquer the summit.
The nobleman's stomach growled. They had ran out of food days ago, and unlike the sherpa, who had experience fasting during buddhist rites, he could not stave off the aches and hunger pangs. He ventured out of his tent, the snow whipping at his face. The sherpa sat outside his tent, performing some sort of prayer before his slumber. The nobleman hefted his cane up and slammed it against the Nepalese man's skull. The sherpa fell face-first in the snow, but quickly rolled before the cane could come down on his head again. The sherpa begged the Polish nobleman not to kill him, but the intense hunger blinded the man.
The foot of the sherpa meets the Pole's family jewels. Disarming the man of his cane, the sherpa stands above the nobleman, the cane held up in case it needed to be brought down. The man was too far lost in his hunger, so he lashed out once more at the sherpa. The cane punctured his chest before he could touch the sherpa again.
The sherpa looked down in horror at what he had just done. The buddhist had recently achieved peace, and doing this rocked his peace immensely. He prayed over the corpse, wishing it the peace in the next life that he had lost in this confrontation. The sherpa gathered the tents but left the man in the snow. He had not noticed the cane beginning to change. On the cane, the nobleman's face now sat. His soul was transferred into the cane, and now that Saberwulf and ROB released it, it spread its peace across the arena.
ROB and saberwulf appear after the icy vision fades. They were not fiting, they were not fleeing, or dodging, or doing anything violent at all. ROB and saberwulf appear to have achieved...
ROB stopped its charade of peace and pulled itself up Saberwulf's arm. The merchant was too far lost in meditation to notice the tiny toy scaling him.
ROB reached the summit of Mt. Saberwulf. It clasped its arms around the merchant's neck. Saberwulf let out a final "Ommmm...." as ROB pulls up with all its might.
Gezora fails to announce it though. It appears it is elsewhere, contemplating the mystical energies of the universe, and how they all apply to the humble cuttlefish ref.
"Ommmm...."
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