I don’t like lying very much, and I couldn’t think of anything plausible I wouldn’t feel bad for lying about — so instead I decided to celebrate the day with abject silliness. So, without further ado, I bring you… a completely contrived fight between a character from a silly world and a character from a serious one. Lihan Hawkhome vs. Captain Bessa Seford!

In Creation, there is a road. There are many roads, in fact, stretching across the expanses of that which is known and believed in. This one, however, is special — it is cut, straight and long, across a dusty, flat expanse, peppered with prairie-hog holes and the occasional patch of wildflowers. Once upon a time, Lihan Hawkhome walked along this road, scanning the horizon with a sense of comfort. He could see for miles. Nothing could approach him unseen, and his magics would allow him to flee long before they should reach him. He felt comfortable, and therefore, from the deep sleeve of his coat, he drew a battered volume and read as he walked.

In the distance, there was a humming sound, as of hornets gathering. Lihan read in absorption about the varying widths of chisels used for different inscriptions in the First Age. A pinpoint of light appeared in the distance, fractured the air around it, and poured a churning prism of chaos into the quiet afternoon. Lihan was fascinated to discover that chisels made of the Five Magical Metals were only used in inscriptions on Manses, because of the resonance patterns that could be set up by a less-than-careful hand in a less-than-Essence-reinforced structure. The kaleidoscoping rainbow emitted a sleek, golden car with fins higher than a man, and it careened down the straight road towards Lihan as the shimmering fracture closed in its wake.

Lihan looked up in alarm as a building roar approached, and with a look of abject terror threw himself off the road and out of the way of the gleaming juggernaut. The car also swerved at the last moment, and flipped up up into the air, coming down heavily on a prairie dog colony, on its side. A door rose like the wing of a wounded beetle, and a redhead in a scarlet jumpsuit leaped out, nostrils flared like a hunting cat. Spirits and Great Gods, thought Lihan, why are small redheaded females always trying to kill me?

Rapidly gathering up his fallen books and bags, Lihan started to walk briskly away from the wreck.

“You!” cried Captain Bessa, explorer of the unknown, “Are you a native of this land?”

“Bessa…” Araminta sighed, “you almost ran him over…”

“Nonsense,” muttered Bessa, “he tried to sabotage our vehicle. Now get out and help me in case we have to settle this the old-fashioned way.”

“My seat-belt got stuck in the crash, sir. Gerald’s, too.”

Bessa frowned, “Do not fear, Crewman Jones. As soon as I’ve dealt with this cowardly reprobate, I will return to free you.” With that, she paced towards Lihan. “Now, knave, why did you attempt to interfere in the affairs of the Paracosmonauts Expeditionary Company?”

Lihan blinked. “I’m very sorry, ma’am —”

“Sir! Address me as sir, please, my rank is Captain, the PEC has rules about proper forms of address.”

“Er, quite. Quite right, sir. As I was saying, I wasn’t aware that any… expedition was taking place on this road today, and was merely attempting to reach…”

Bessa scoffed. “I don’t believe it for a moment! Why are you so shifty, varlet?”

“Er, shifty, ma— er, sir?”

“Yes, shifty!” her eyes narrowed, then widened. “You’re a pirate! You belong to the Crossdimensional Elite Pirates! I can tell by your hair!”

Lihan stared in consternation at his hair, which was long, red-brown, and contained a few braids. “I’m sorry?”

“Defend yourself, foul minion of the CEP!” cried Bessa, and began to circle ominously, weaving a pattern of menace in the air with her hands.

“Halp!” cried Lihan, assuming a clumsy defensive stance.

“Why did you let her drive?” said Minta, more sorrowful than angry, hanging sideways like a forlorn fruit bat.

“Something about me being a pilot, and cars needing a driver, I think,” Gerald said. “Sorry, Minta, won’t happen again.”

Bessa dodged, feinted, and struck! “Ow!” cried Lihan, “I really don’t know, ‘sir’, why we have to – OW! – resort to these – ACK! – barbaric measures over a – My hair! – misunderstanding!”

Bessa drew back and narrowed her green eyes to feral slits. “We understand each other perfectly, fiend!” she growled, and sprang, hands together, to fall like a hammer of doom upon Hawkhome’s back!

Lihan fell to the ground – as all men do when struck in the back by the fists of a captain-explorer – and with a groan, wheezed, “That’s enough!”

Bessa, arms raised and rictus securely in place for another blow, looked crestfallen. “Are you giving up?” she said wistfully, “Wastrel?”

But Lihan Hawkhome, the Copper Spider, the Chosen of the Unconquered Sun, Seer of Truths and Knower of Hidden Ways, rose dusty and dishevelled from the prairie dirt, light boiling from his brow and his green-woven anima curdling from the air of Creation behind him. He spoke low words that Bessa did not understand, and she stepped back involuntarily.

“Dear…God…” she managed to say, before the winds gathered around the man and whisked him muttering from her sight.

Captain Bessa looked after the retreating cyclone for a moment in consternation, then smiled. “Another victory for the invincible Paracosmonauts!”