The Lionbiter Arms

It was true what they said, Stupidly Steep Lane was so steep in places that it looked like it could slide off the slide of a mountain at any moment taking all the topsy-turvy leaning-rows of houses with it.

‘Why the hell do they make streets in this damn Tuneland so steep!’ the Tower of a Girl expelled the depths of her lungs, lanky frame doubled over as she looked back down between her bent legs all the sickly way they’d come.

‘Who knows.’ The Boisterous Alpha mused. ‘Maybe you should ask why our transport system is run by a bunch of giant dirty apes on the backs of monsterous vehicles who rip you off! Anyway I would stop looking back if I was you! Some Folkers have said to have literally lost their balance and fallen off this street never to be seen again!’

‘They say,’ the Quietest of Crew now stuttered, ‘if you fall off this lane you land on the railway tracks of Slapham junction hundreds of feet below and the trains will take much fun in running over your copse.’

‘Yeah.’  The Boisterous Alpha nodded. ‘I’ve also heard of a Wizard train that can bring fallen Folkers back to life just so they can run over them all over again…’

‘Enough, I dont want to know!’ The Tower of a Girl made a tearful whine. ‘Why the hell are we doing this anyway?’

‘Listen!’ The Boisterous Alpha wrapped his arms around on her shoulders. ‘Lets take a breather and I’ll show you sumething!’

He directed them off street under a ivy-choked archway and out onto the open mountain side. Shortly, they emerged out from behind some houses where a line of broken-picket-fenced back-gardens hung out over one of GlenofD’raaahs many precipices like a row of bent teeth. This view point offered a good view of the sparkling amber of the deep glen they had come up. Its urban spread of ellephant-headed-crane run warehouses, ruined, housing-estate -infested, temples and over grown railway tracks peppered, of course, by the dark blots of dense forest and red rock cliff faces which threatened to consume and break the streets at any moment.

This side alley lead on towards a beast and chips shop that somehow managed to hold on to the cliff face it protruded from. It was only reachable via a series planks over a row of chimeny stacks, the rest of their houses clearly having disappeared long ago into the void their bones leaned over.

‘Eweh, You’d want to be hungry to eat there!’ The Tower of a Girl mused about this beast-food outlet.

‘Never mind that rat trap, we seek an even seedier place to eat crisps and live dangerously at! Look this way!’

The Boisterous Alpha now pointed the other two on up another few lurches of  Stupidly Steep Street towards a row of trees crowing the top of the ridge.

‘We’re not far from the Lionbiters Arms now! Look, there it is in all its raaahsome glory!’

It was much closer, the same beastly tower they had seen earlier from far below and rather taller any other chimney pot around it. 

‘Cool!’ The Tower of a Girl shrieked. ‘Why didnt you say we were so close, you tease! I’m going to sprint the last bit! Lets get this over and done with!’

With a renewed spring in her step, she skipped back under the archway. She was just about to leap out onto the lane again when there came terrible cobble shaking  animal roar coming right at them.

With a ripping of air and squeal of barely-applied brakes a rhino horned vechie squeelled around the corner and down the lane toward the MOUTH’s barely giving them seconds to pin themselves against a wall out of its stomp-booting leg-wheels. Much to their relief, with another hot-blooded turn, the vehicle carreed on down hill, the sound of this lane racer fading into the night as the teens carried on with their climb.

‘Damn Granny rider! Trying to relive the glory days, no doubt!’ The Tower of Girl growled.

‘Now don’t be sexist!’ the Boisterous Alpha mused. ‘Might be an old dad banger riding that rhino rider, you don’t know for sure!’

‘You’re both being Ageist!’ The Quieter of the Crew just had to get in his own ten cents,  ‘Could be some brat of a toddler driving it for all we know!’ 

They took the same bend the rhino rider had screamed down, heading up around another tight bend. Now with every foot step they trudged on, the great beast of a tower started to rise ahead between two rows of cottages. At first they saw the quiff of its wavy stone  maine, crowned wth several lion-roar chimney pots and, as they huffed and puffed on, they could see  two eyes for windows that seemed to loom down at them  suspiciously as if even this building knew what they were up to. Below the eye shaped windows there was a fang-columned mouth for a balcony and at this point it was all too clear that there destination was nothing more, nothing less then a great predatory head for a building, made even more sinister by the way which copper-green lizard lamps made the smooth walls glow between sinister shadows.

The Quieter of the Crew stopped and put his hands on his hips, taking in the arched sign way at the buildings foot, dimly stating that this was the Lionbiters Arms. He now let out a great gasp of air emptying all the exhaustion from the depths of his lungs with a series of gut spraining coughs, body bent over.

‘Is it worth all this effort climbing this retardedly steep lane,‘ he declared in between rasps, ‘to get a bag of crisps from a pub just because it’s shaped like a lions head!?’

‘Well actually it is!’ The Boisterous Alpha had none of his pals lethargy, ‘ But anyway…the fact that the Lionbiters Arms is shaped like a lion’s roaring head is just the icing on the cake! Think of what all our peer-pressuring-pals will be saying when they find out that we ate a bag of crisps at the Lionbiters arms! It’s said to be a legendary feat! Some call it a coming of age ceremonial on account of the risks involved.’

‘What risks?’ The Tower of a Girl now asked.

‘Well the owner of this particular establishment is said to make the even toughest MOUTH turn to jelly legs…such is his temperament. What’s more, unlike most MOUTHs who only have two arms and a pair of legs, this guy has four arms!’

‘What, no way and four legs too?’

‘No just the two but he may as well have a centaurs body with his buff attitude and  how he punishes those who he takes a disliking too! It’s said that instead of a lawn or a shrubbery for a back garden he owns a ruddy great fortress for a maze. A labyrinth that is said to be impossible to escape from, if he imprisons you in it!’

‘What? That doesnt sound legal! What would give him the right to do a thing like that?’

‘You dont need rights when your blood is crimson with rage the way the  Master Lionbiter’s is…all you got to do is be a Wizard or a Fairy or any other tribe he doesn’t like or maybe even rustle your packet of crisps too loudly! And that’s it, he’ll throw you out back. What’s more, if its quite enough in the bar, hell, he might even join you in the maze, stalking you from the shadows until, when you least expect it, bam, four hands around the throat and you never rustle a packet of crisps ever again! So there’s some incentive to be extra careful as we munch on our bags!’

‘Ever so gingery, right?’ the Quieter of Crew shuddered at the thought.

 They stomped on in deep sillence, barely noticing a small grumbling company of Gnomes with wheelbarrows which they had to suddenly leap over to avoid getting into any more hot water tonight.

As they summited the last of roll of the lane, the pain in their knees easing, the great lion head presented their only way forwards throning the end of a small close of houses like a castle with attitude (and altitude).

The teens headed towards a iron railing of feriously pointy teeth round the Lionbiter Arm’s grounds, soles aims squarely at a gate that would take them down some steps to a basement doorway.

‘Here we go!’ The Boisterous Alpha’s voice echoed as they passed down a grimy bricked passage towards a glass-panelled double doors.

They were so tunnelled visioned and focused on the task at hand that they failed to notice a tiny figure standing at the top of the steps behind them. This minute being, with all his jingly jewellery, eyed them with intense interest before slowly leaping down the steps after them, doing hopscotch with his boot prints.