Summoning Kobolds At Midnight: A Tale of Suburbia & Sorcery.

Sherry-By-The-Bend.

Clive and Kilpa chatted as they made their way back to his home. She treated it like any other day where she'd go for a stroll. But Clive felt nothing but apprehension. For he knew, that today he would have to face his dreaded foe. The one that has plagued him these few months and had now invaded his property.

King George, King of the Ewes.

As they neared his home he quickly spotted the royal ram grazing lazily on some frosted grass while his harem of ewes lounged and loitered under a nearby tree. Clive breathed to calm himself as he and Kilpa paused at the tree that had provided him protection just that morning.

Kilpa rolled her eyes with a smirk and pulled him down for a peck on the cheek before giving it a light affectionate pat.

"I believe in you."

With a chuckle she sauntered over to the porch and leaned against the frame. She probably found this all funny, Clive thought as he locked eyes with the dreaded ram. But to him, he felt like a knight going off to face a dragon. Unlike the fairy tales though, the princess didn't give him a teasing mooning to motivate him.

"Damn you other brain." Clive muttered as he found himself locking eyes with the Ovis King.

If this were under different circumstances, he'd probably come up with a better solution. Appeasement. Offerings. Maybe even take the time to build a shelter for them from the snow and cold. Literally anything than what he was actually about to do because the blood from his brain went to his other brain. In fact, wrestling a ram actually didn't seem that bad the more he considered it. Show dominance is what Jeb told him once upon a time when the three of them snuck onto one of the nearby farms because Morty convinced them to go cow tipping.

Fun fact, you can't actually tip a cow. Especially when it's awake and trying to be pushed over by two drunk assholes while their third friend watched and waited for them to inevitably fall over and land in cow shit for their trouble.

Despite said drunken misadventure, Jeb made sure on several occasions to tell him when dealing with livestock that the key is to show them who's boss. Especially goats. Give them an inch and they'll take everything, he once told him when they were helping load up livestock onto one of the Shays for transport.

Then again, Jeb was bigger and easily wrestled an ornery ram to the ground with little issue. Clive on the other hand? He was content to remain in the train engine with a bit of metal between him and the fussy livestock.

Unfortunately for him, all he had at the moment was air. He reached into his pockets and felt the two "gifts" supposedly given to him from the elements. Whether that was true or Kessle pulling his leg he wasn't sure. But he had to admit that feeling of grinding within the geode and the cool dampness of the river pebble did make him feel a touch more confident.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Which all started to fade as King George seemed to crack his neck like a boxer before starting to make his way over to Clive. Clive, for his part, took a position to brace himself against the inevitable charge and adjusted his hands to grab and grip the horns. From there all he'd have to do is wrestle the ram to the ground and it would all be over.

Or so he hoped. Which vanished as the ram brayed it's dreaded bellow and charged towards him. Its hooves kicked mud and snow up as it leveled its head to buck Clive once again. Clive sucked in a deep breath of cold air and tensed his body for the impact.

"God this is a bad idea."

If he timed it just right, he could still dodge out of the way, he thought only to find his feet seemed stuck. A glance down revealed muddy sludge coating his boots. A quick tug revealed he was practically fastened to the ground!

"What the hell?!"

"Clive!" Kilpa called out, returning Clive's attention back to the matter at hand. Which was the ram barreling towards him.

"Oh shit!" He cried out and braced for impact as best he could.

He closed his eyes and tensed just before he felt the force of the collision. Broken bones. Flying through the air. Maybe even death. All these things flashed through his mind as his hands gripped the thick horns of the ram. What he wasn't expecting was the surprised yelp from the ram as it stopped dead!

Clive cracked open an eye and found the King of the Ewes staring back at him in confusion as his hands gripped the thick horns. Clive blinked as the shock of not being dead or a UFO kick started his brain. The logical thinking one. Force and velocity should've resulted in him being a ragdoll now. Or at least immediate soreness or pain in his arms and back from the impact alone.

But he barely felt a thing. It felt like he had caught a ball if nothing else. He glanced at his hands and found what appeared to be a layer of caked mud between him and the thick horns. Before he could even begin to process what had happened, the ram rallied and proceeded to buck him.

Or at least attempt to. Yet his grip, much to both of their surprises, held firm and resolutely. He found himself barely budging from the movements of the ram, which just seemed to infuriate it more. Yet he held firm. Or perhaps trapped would be the better word for it as he still couldn't actually move from his spot on account of the thick mud holding him in place.

Eventually something would give though. It seemed a battle of wills was happening between the ram and whatever the hell was keeping him upright and resolute. Because it sure as shit wasn't his will, he thought as he felt more and more like he was caught between two forces.

Then the unexpected, well, more unexpected, happened. The ram retreated! What iron grip he had on the horns was gone the second the ram pulled away and back up in seeming retreat. It brayed at him and started to head back towards his paddock and ewes.

Clive looked down at the layer of what now looked like hardened mud against the palms of his hands in shock and awe. Then it clicked what this meant. He had won. He wouldn't have to fear the ram ever again!

"Yeah bitch!" He yelled out and threw his hands in the air and looked towards Kilpa with a shit-eating grin on his face.

But of course, he had forgotten a key rule with horned ovids. Never turn your back on one. Which he quickly learned as he blinked and found himself suddenly on his back on the ground. He blinked as he saw the grizzled visage of the King of the Ewes staring down at him. The ram gave a snort at Clive before turning around and actually heading back to the paddock.

It might've just been the delirium of being tossed around but he swore he could almost feel a sense of respect coming from the ram. But that was nonsense, the ram was evil incarnate, Clive thought as he rose and limped his way back towards where Kilpa smiled a genuine smile.

"So? How were it?"

"Which part? Holding my ground as a ram charged at me with horns as thick as my leg? Or being tossed into the air, again?"

"How 'bout tha former. You held yer ground pretty well there. Fer a breath."

"Yeah... I guess I kinda did." Clive said as he looked down at his hands and only found flecks of mud where once there seemed a protective layer.

"Well! Imma halflin' o' mah word!" Kilpa declared as they put their groceries away.

"What's that mea-" Clive started and turned around just in time to see Kilpa begining to undress with a sultry smile. Oh yeah, he forgot about her offer, Clive thought as his other brain quickly took over.