PLAYER 1 - Ordo Equester

The
"Wisdom" of the Gnomes


[Or How
some idiot started an internecine war]




A long long time ago

 under a hillside

 far

 far

 away

 there
lived a aged Gnome who must have drunk too much of the potent Halfling
liquor?.. either that, or indulged in the
infamous "whacky 'baccy" favoured by the Gnomes to encourage outlandish
ideas.
To set the scene for our tale, it should be pointed out that his name was
Bedalius, and by one of those unusual quirks of fate, he had ascended the
great
throne over of all the Gnomish realms, at the mere age of 325 years.

Now, some three centuries later, with his legs bent to
the
shape of a horseshoe, and his back so bent that his nose virtually touched
the
floor, he had a brief spell of sanity and proclaimed that the throne of the
Gnomish Empire would have to have a new resident. The news was greeted with
reverie and much swigging of ale, as the taverns and inns rippled with the
speculations as to who would succeed the "Ould Fool" (as Bedalius
was
affectionately known). 

Two famous (or should that be infamous?) leaders were
quick to put their name forward, Ordo
Equester and Lord Oronic, both of whom bore the experience (and scars) of
several campaigns on other worlds.

In an ingenious plan to resolve the claim of these two
claimants, and the twelve others who had thrown their hats into the ring
(actually, it was their seal rings into a polished spitoon, but the bards
are
wont to sacrifice the actual truth for the sake of a better verse),
Bedalius
ordered a contest to find the most worthy wizard to succeed
him.

Almost immediately, the speculation rose over what the
contest would be: a joust,
a beauty pageant or a spelling bee?. Some of the most
imaginative Gnomes (that epithet extends beyond eccentric to
the virtual clinically insane), postulated on the merits of
trials by magic or, certainly the weirdest of all, a
democratic vote on who should be the new Emperor. [It should
be stated that the originator of the latter idea has not
been seen since, but there are those who say that his
maniacal laughter is heard on the wind if it comes from the
Emperor's palace.] 

But, no-one was prepared for the announcement
that finally came - a contest of magic, military and
economic skills to be staged in the faraway world of Andoria, with the
rival
claimants pitting their skills against each other. The twist being that two
claimants must fight together, against two others. 

Ordo Equester was to be given the realm of Bombandaric,
and
Lord Oronic the realm of  Neabudara. These two must put aside their
individual claims, and face the claims of the two opposing claimants who
would
be given the realms of Yundyroc and Carlton Heights. The
contestants were to be magically transported to their
respective isles, and there to establish themselves ready
for the contest to begin. Beyond the scantiest of details
(even scantier than an Elf's underwear!) none of the wizards
know of the proximity of the others.

At first the peoples of these Gnomish realms were
enthralled
by the prospect of witnessing the titanic struggle between the opposing
factions. Ticket Touts began to forward sell seats for the (as yet
unannounced)
grand joust, and the jollity continued until the leaders arrived, and
started to
issue orders....It slowly dawned on the disbelieving populaces that the
contest
was not to be a grand spectacle, with pompous warlords hacking limbs of
each
other to the cheers (or jeers) of the watching multitudes. The jollity
subsided
as the reality bit home....

The warlords would sit in the castle towers, watching
the
blood, gore and screams as the Gnomish realms became the contest ground,
and
Andoria would cease to be the lands of peace and plenty.....The
crystal blue waters of the oceans would turn red, the
verdant fields would be trampled under the feet of marching
hordes, and fathers and sons would be pitched into a war of
attrition, with survival the prize, and the alternative too
hideous to contemplate.

The rest of the Gnomish empire would be the audience to
a
spectacle like no other, as Andoria becomes the Theatre of Blood. 

 


THIS IS THE STORY TOLD TO
THE CHILDREN OF
BOMBANDARIC, AS TO
HOW THE GNOMES CAME TO BE KILLING EACH OTHER.

Authors note: There is a
positive side to all this despair, as the more
entrepreneurial Gnomes have discovered - the investment by
the contestants has started, and the local craftsmen are
hard at work, Taverns, docks, paths and rumours of even
greater projects to come. Perhaps this despondency may be
turned to good account (some National Gnome bank account,
that is) and just maybe, the wilder youths have found a
potential vocation as a hero to volunteer to serve the
vanity of the wizards.
What will be the outcome of the
contest?. Time alone will reveal that answer. Until then,
the rasp of metal on stone augurs ill for the coming
maelstrom and the eyes of many a mother fill with tears as
the menfolk gather in the city square for drill. 

  





Contact Ordo Equester at darrell.lias@tiscali.co.uk

 PLAYER 2 - Semblar the Great






A History of
Why

So Gnomes need to fight other

Gnomies. This is not the first, nor shall it be the LAST


- just look inside your tomies!

Is

the combat Ergonomic? No it's merely ergoGnomic. Our king needs to choose from

amongst the best - which is we four so Bugger all the rest!

Our

tourney though 'tis

necessary is one for Gnomes, 

not some poor Faerie. 

This combat

true will unite our nation, yet for the mo brings

devastation

AS some
poor

sage of old would say: 









"Bugger

this, and Chocks Away!"











 

Now, 

While the doggerel above was composed by
an

up and coming bard, this is more than serious for this great nation of the

Gnomes. We have a cirisis that it seems can only be solved by bloodshed.

While none of us would wish to harm a
fly

(well except when we're using them in some laboratory and spill acid on them
by

mistake), we must by royal decree do battle until such time as there is a
clear

successor to Da Gnome Throne.

I'm obviously a little bit upset by all

this! Why my buddy and mate of Old is actually on the other side to me! Ordo
and

I go back a little bit.. well at least to the 214th dimension in
any

case. But as Sayla Gair (my tutor in all things martial ) would say (in the
deep

and booming voice that makes us wonder as to whather deep back in his ancestry

he has some Ogre blood pulsing thru' his veins) "Your

friend is your friend until he's your enemy...

but if he's your friend when he's not your enemy any more he'll be your friend

again".

I'm not quite sure I understand that one, but he assures me of it's inherent

veracity and bids me meditate on it at least three times a day, before a
square

meal each time. I've ordered a set of oblong plates, bowls and platters so
that

I can do exactly that.

 

So we have Sides. Me 'n' Elrond against

Ordo and Oronic. Thus we can fight together. Now some numskull gnome would

wonder why there is such co-operation, but the answer is clear. To be a truely

great monarch you need more than the ability to wield the biggest sword. YOu

need to be able to work with othetrs, delegate, negotiate, and so on. Without

that you rule through fear alone... and while the populaceshould rightly fear,

they should also love, and you don't get that without at least a modicum of

interpersonal (or should that be interGnominal?) skills. Of couse, if I had to

choose between the four of us I would Gnominate nominate

myself, but I have to admit that this viewpoint would be more than a teensy

weensy bit biased.

Then we move onto the tournament area

itself. Isn't it a doosy! Must have been created by the classical designer,

Awlsfayre N. Luvenwor - or as a remote possibility it could have been Corneul
D.

Vestin . Now this is the future of confrontational architecture on a
continental

scale no less! all these secret passages and immediate barriers - boy it's
gonna

be fun trying to figure it out.....and the cavern. What a sight those grottoes

are! Must be enough to bring a tear to me old mam's eye that - wait a second,

I'll get it out and check. NO, no tear - but there was a kind of appreciative

sheen

 

Ah well, if I get more to add in the
Diary

(Dear Diary), I shall, but there be blood to shed and shed to build. If you
need

me for owt, call me at 

semblar




Contact Semblar the Great at danreed@blueyonder.co.uk

 PLAYER 3 - Elrond

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Elrond at mjorr@indiana.edu

 PLAYER 4 - Oronic


Oh no not again. Damn the Gods, transported to another world again! All I wa=
s=20
doing is looking for more of my kind, a small thing. After all there have to=
=20
be many half-orcs out there. Just a simple quest, to find more of a race tha=
t=20
should be more in touch with one another. Ok so most of us were sired by two=
=20
other races. We could still form a nation. So that is what I set out to do t=
o=20
create a nation of half-orcs. What I did not count on was the perversity of=20
the higher powers. They laugh at my quest while convincing me they are=20
helping. Let me explain=E2=80=A6.

While searching through some of the worst places in the world to live, I=20
thought for sure I could find a gathering of half-orcs shunned by the rest o=
f=20
the world. Yet not one group did I find. So on I search through the cities,=20
into the mountains, deserts, forests, plains, swamps, even into the=20
underworld I went. Unfortunately no civilization of half-orcs existed. I=20
found some with the humans, some with the orcs but none in a city of their=20
own. Well this would not do. I had to find a way to gather them together. I=20
turned to where everyone in dire need turns to the gods. Seeking out the=20
nearest church I asked for the help of the priests. After much begging and=20
pleading, they agreed to search for a sign of my quest to come. There I sat=20
desperately waiting for enlightenment, in a cold building of marble and=20
stone. I expected compassion from the priests (after all weren't they=20
healers), understanding from the paladins (they were used to insurmountable=20
odds), and indifference from the bishops (who would not even have noticed me=
=20
a lowly half-orc). Instead I received an answer, "Follow the path to the=20
endless stair and there you will find a doorway to your followers, those=20
minions whose souls cry out in need of your wise and benevolent rule".=20

Delighted I quickly gave my thanks and departed, on with the quest for the=20
endless stair. Fighting my way through the undead hordes in the bog of the=20
dead, I managed my way to the trolls peak. This was a place of an ill=20
mannered tribe of semi intelligent beasts whose taste for flesh was the only=
=20
thing that allowed them to overcome their fear of flames. So torch in hand,=20=
I=20
went seeking the endless stair rumored to be on the highest peak. After a fe=
w=20
dozen skirmishes with mountain trolls (leaving quite a few bonfires merrily=20
burning I might add), I was able to find the stairs. While they were not=20
endless I lost count at one thousand two hundred and seven teen steps. To=20
make a long, tedious and back breaking journey short, I made it to the top.=20
To find a shimmering portal, guarded by a beast made entirely of iron, it=20
took me the better part of an hour (and three swords) to defeat the thing by=
=20
popping one rivet out of the creature at a time. In a clatter of rusted=20
plates (which made an awful racket sliding down the steps) the beast was=20
overcome.=20

Casting my worries behind I was ready to enter the portal, into the world of=
=20
my dreams, a world where half-orcs are the norm. As any of you other=20
conquering rulers know, the fates are not always cruel, nor are they always=20
kind. Sometimes they are downright ridiculous. I should have had a clue by=20
the mechanical beast, or the fact that the stairs were meticulously=20
maintained by some fantastic collection of gears. But in my excitement to=20
find my bretheren, I ignored the other words of the oracle "you shall lead=20
others who have been misunderstood, feared, and reviled for the change this=20
race represents." In my foolishness I did not pay any heed. Stepping through=
=20
the gateway to another realm and welcomed by my new peasants, I knew fear=20
then as I had never known fear before. These were not half-orcs, nor were=20
they orcs or humans which I could easily understand. The immortals could hav=
e=20
even given me ogres whose brute force I could understand but I fear the gods=
=20
smirk at me now as I cower in my castle waiting for the next explosion to=20
occur, the one that will tear my beautiful steel geared castle down around=20
me. I don't fear an invading army. No it is my subjects who's tampering with=
=20
everything in my kingdom. Even my sword is now an automated slicer that has=20
to contain its own self cleaning, auto sharpening scabbard. I sleep with one=
=20
eye open in case the thing attacks me in my sleep. That is easy to do. I wil=
l=20
not sleep in my "emperors self making, auto pillow fluffing, auto sheet=20
cleaning bed" since being "cleaned" out of the bed at three in the morning=20
because the bed thought I was dirt. So I sleep on the floor of my castle tha=
t=20
wanders through my capital city like an overgrown friendly puppy, and ponder=
.=20
Do the gods have a sense of humor  or are they just plain evil, I could not=20
think of anything else that could place more fear into my hear than=E2=80=
=A6.


GNOMES


Contact Oronic at leschlog@aol.com




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