Robin Riddick: Chapter Four-Chinese Take-Out?

As Robin Riddick and his Goggle Headed Men celebrated in the forest...Sir Twohy returned to Nottingham castle to inform Prince Johns of his frightening encounter in Sherwood.

After seeing that the young lady he had been traveling with was taken care of Sir Twohy made his way through the throne room, slipped behind a large tapestry, and into a secret passageway. Traveling down a long spiraling staircase leading to the dungeons he finally arrived at the bottom, very badly winded, and made his way towards a guarded door. Upon opening it Sir Twohy gasped and recoiled in horror at what he saw; Prince Johns was injecting, what looked to be a lengthy porcupine needle, into his eye.

"What are you doing in here!" bellowed Prince Johns removing the needle from his eye.

"Forgive me you highness," Babbled Sir Twohy. "I have urgent news to report." The Prince swiveled around to face Twohy.

"While on route to the Royal accountants today, traveling through Sherwood Forest" Fear coated Twohy's every word. "My entourage was attacked, by non other than..." Sir Twohy Swallowed hard and in a tiny squeaky voice said,” Robin Riddick."

"What? Speak louder Twohy" Twohy took a long deep breath and tried again.

"Robin Riddick." Again, only the high squeak.

"Speak man for goodness sakes." Sir Twohy took a very long deep breath and began to speak again, but just as he opened his mouth Prince Johns bit his hand.

"ROBIN RIDDICK!!!" Screeched Sir Twohy.

"Robin Riddick, eh?" Prince Johns stroked his chin. (It's just something evil bad guys do! It's the rules, I didn't write them!) "Was not Maid Caroline with you?", asked the prince Twohy nodded. "Very interesting indeed then."

Suddenly Johns’ eyes widened and an evil grin spread like brush fire across his face. He jumped from his seat, his robes swirling behind him, and headed for the door; pushing poor Sir Twohy, who was now clutching his hand, out of his way.

"Your highness, where are you going?"

"To see the witch!"

Many years ago Prince Johns' Great Grandfather had indentured her to the royals' service. Now old and haggard, the witch Shazza lived in the highest tower of Nottingham Castle where she practiced her craft in secrecy.

Prince Johns ascended the crumbling tower stairs, to arrive at an aged and splintered wooden door. As he entered the room he could see dried herbs and chickens hanging from the ceiling. Lining the walls were shelves that held jars full of dark murky water with floating bits and pieces of things in them. The room was stifling hot and dark, as the windows had been boarded up and a fire roared in the hearth. This was the witch’s tower.

Slowly she emerged from one of the dark corners of the room; cloaked in rags of black, she edged towards Prince Johns.

"I was expecting you, sire" Came her scratchy scathing voice.

"How did you know I was coming to see you?" asked the Prince astounded.

"I see all Sire, that and you make one hell of a noise coming up those stairs."

"I seek answers Shazza, I wish to know if..." But the old witch cut him off. She grabbed a large silver bowl from the center of an ancient wooden table and began to wipe it with a large white cloth.

"You worry that your enemy will over power you, my lord. You worry that he will take your thrown and the woman you love."

"That's amazing how did you know?"
Shazza pulled a large burlap sack form behind her and poured its contents into the silver bowl. Prince Johns peered into the bowl expecting to see some sort of powerful black magic, but a look of disappointment covered his face.

"Fortune cookies! You'd be surprised at how accurate these things really are!" Said the old witch.





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