Mage

“My name is Mage”, said the young dark haired technoknight, whirling his magic loaded Hexshooter by its dragon shaped silver handle as the magic gun crackled with green veins of otherworldly energy.

“My name is Cara, Princess of Elfland”, said the pointy eared princess struggling against her bonds.

“I know”, he said, abruptly, focussing his heart that triggered the hexshooter and firing a blast of green energy towards the magical lock that bound the Princess’s hands, “Your father, King Elfric sent me to save you. I have a car waiting outside; its name is Elcimer. Say its name three times and the ignition will start but you have to hurry because the dark wizard Hargron must surely have sensed my presence here”.

But then Mage heard the roar of jet engines combined with the beating large leathery wings upon the air that could only mean Hargrons dragoncraft approaching.

And then, a blue blast of magical energy ripping open the door of the room; the young knight saw the dark wizard come floating into the room.

He raised the barrel of his hexshooter and aimed it towards the wizards third eye.

“Guns and cars”, said the Wizard, rolling all three of his eyes and tutting, “Whatever happened to the days when knights used to carry swords and ride white horses”.

Mage mentally cocked the hexshooter.

“I think you’ll find this hexshooter is as efficient as any blade when it comes to dispatching wizards”, said the young man, “I received it from ye Lady of Celestial Munitions who lives at the bottom of the crystal lake at the edge of the world and, though it only has 3 spells left in its chambers, it shoots a lot faster than your wizards staff”.

Hargron whirled his crystal headed staff.

“It is a museum piece, I admit”, he said, mentally transforming it into a long barrelled magic firing machine gun, “But when you know real magic its all the same”.

The wizard fired a barrage of glowing green bullets from his gun that, whizzing around in the air like green dragon flies, then converged upon the technoknights gun like swooping ravens before transforming it, with a touch, into a useless floppy three legged rubber chicken.

The knight dropped the rubber chicken, his jaw dropping too.

“Not so tough now are you, knight, eh?”, said the Wizard grinning and prodding Mage in the chest with the barrel of his magic firearm.

Just then, however, Princes Cara reached into a bag hanging from her waist and shoved a frog into the Knights face.

“Quick”, she said, “Kiss this”.

“What?”, asked the knight, looking at the frog, stunned and confused, “I’m a knight. I don’t kiss frogs. Why don’t you kiss it?”.

“I’ve tried, believe me”, said Cara, “But it’s a gay frog. Only another man’s lips can transform it”.

Mage sighed.

“Alright, give it here”, he said, grabbing hold of the frog and pressing its thick, green blubbery lips up to his.

“Yecch!”, said Hargron, “Thank goodness I’m evil and I don’t have to do nasty things like that”.

But then, fortunately, just as Mage could feel the frogs tongue tenderly curling round his there was a flash of bright green energy and the frog turned into a magic hand grenade.

The wizards three eyes widened with panic as Mage lobbed the hand grenade, over arm, towards him and it exploded, with a cacophony of roaring and screaming, into a thousand flaming hell demons that, clawing at his arms, dragged the evil wizard screaming into a fiery vortex.

“Oh, I just hope that that frog thing doesn’t stick to me”, said Mage, with a worried look,“I really don’t want to be known as Sir Mage who French kissed a frog. All the other technoknights they’ll never let me forget it ”.

But then the young knight felt a different pair of lips touch his, those of the pointy eared elfin princess.

“Don’t worry”, she said, “I won’t tell anyone”.