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Contact The Shadow at djones@bbnow.net
Extract from the memoirs of Ordo Equester 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).
In an ingenious plan to resolve the claim of the fourteen claimants 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.
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 Amazonian 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 Orcish 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 ANDORIAN AMAZONS CAME TO BE KILLING EACH OTHER. or JOLLY GOOD SPORT IF YOU CAN WATCH IT!
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 Gnomish caravans are hard at work, stocking up to sell precious supplies to their green neighbours (at exorbitant prices... never!) 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.
Extract from the memoirs of Ordo Equester, Lord of the Amazons of Mitiya, as scribed by his obedient servant Penisthetool, first to find his master on the blessed day of the fires in the sky....
"The sensation is strange indeed, to know that once you were all powerful, even to challenging the son of a god. And yet, as I, Ordo Equester, sit in this cold garret, atop this measly apology for a castle, my memories are scattered as fragments of a crystal carelessly dropped to a stone floor. A curse on that analogy, for the clearest memory of all is of that crowning moment to years of effort, ah but that is for later.
This dictation may once again kindle the flame of ambition that once burned so bright.
The Plainsmen of Grinola had bent to my every word, and built their meagre town to be the greatest city on the Isles of Arragoth. They witnessed the ease with which my alliance with Thurban II and Warduke had rid the world of charlatans like Ra and Darkstar, mere dabblers in the magic arts.
Yes, they felt the fear as the Temple of Darkness rose alongside the Royal Court, and the wonder as the Pyramid of Power grew to dwarf all other building in the city. They shuddered in anticipation of their pain, as the Sacrificial Altar was completed, and the dark shadow claimed the first of its many victims.
But for all that, they rejoiced in the victories that my armies brought, and the entertainers that roved the kingdom with tales of those victories, and of the exploits of the dozens of heroes, from the conquest of enchanted places to the mighty feats of arms and magic."
My master pauses for breath, and I see again the deep lines of exhaustion that scarred his naked frame, the day he appeared as a ghostly form before my eyes, slowly gaining depth until his body crashed to the ground, very nearly into the fire burning in the great hearth!.
I am rewarded for caring for him, with the task of writing the prologue to his new life, here amongst the High Elves. If it pleases him, I may be allowed to chronicle his life.
"Pen!. You daydream whilst your master speaks. have a care that I do not sever your head from your shoulders, so that it can dream all it likes in the latrine.
Now, as I was saying. Ah yes, the mighty feats of arms and magic. That was the culmination of my power, and I gave them the chance to watch as the image of Darkstar's city of Bulls Canyon shimmered in the air above the market square. They saw the raw energy rise from the Pyramid of Power, and counting as one counts the seconds between the lightning and the peel of thunder, they fell silent as the Armageddon spell descended and as one they turned from the brilliance of the light as it struck home. One by one they gasped, as the picture slowly reformed, and they beheld the desolation and carnage that I had wrought in the name of darkness.
I pronounced there and then that I would refine the spell further, and they could watch in similar fashion as I eradicated the Son of Arragoth from the Isles, his shambling legions and all.
Maybe I had expected cheers of delight, but their utter silence was reward enough, and as they shuffled off to the taverns and inns to contemplate what they seen amongst their infernal chatter, I began to research ways to improve the spell.
It was not as hard as I had imagined, a larger gem would increase the power of the spell, and I sent couriers across the Isles to find the perfect stone for my jewellers to cut into the precise shape required to focus the energy.
Soon the day dawned, and the plainsmen gathered, with emissaries from all the lands arriving to witness the freeing of the Isles from the threat of a godly awakening.
Standing atop the Pyramid of Power, I began the chant, and directed all my thoughts into the crystal in my hands. Its subtle vibrations grew as the energy was drawn from the very ether, and the colours of the rainbow danced within the crystal.
Down below, in the market square, thousands stood open mouthed at the spectacle before them. The image of the resting place of the godling hung in the air, and many knew that his slumbers would be made permanent, as their trust (or was it fear?) in their tyrant was absolute.
As the last words of the forgotten tongue left my lips, the throbbing of the crystal became so intense that the very earth vibrated.
It was then that I saw my folly.
Not noticed in all the preparation, neither by the craftsmen who cut it, nor myself as I inspected it; I could now see a distortion in the reflections of light within the crystal facets, and instead of channelling the energy into a synchronous beam that would emit from the pyramidic tip of the gem, the living power had found another exit.
Looking fleetingly at the gathered multitudes, I felt a pang of compassion, for their fate was sealed and they knew nothing of it, fixed as they were on the image hung before them.
Quickly, I mumbled the words of the Dimensional Shift spell, and felt myself begin to dematerialise, even as the crystal fell to the stone at my feet. In the last moments of my existence on the Isles, the faces of the unfortunate few who saw my going grew taught with horror and confusion. Even as the last of my being was fading, I felt the awesome heat, so hot as to feel ice-cold, and the mist that grew with the vapourisation of every living thing and construction that stood in the region of Grinola.
When I woke, the scars that the spell had wrought on my mortal form were dressed in the softest of linen, and I found that I was in this Amazonian city of Mitiya. City hardly begins to describe the collection of rag tag buildings amassed over the centuries or millennia of the Amazonian debauchery, and decayed by the exposure to the jungle vines and infernal flies.
I can see opportunity lying before me. my ambition a bauble to entice and inspire the Amazons. Once again I shall research the magics, and maybe this time I shall harness the elements and flora instead of the darkness... we shall see."
The way my master leapt from the chair caught me by surprise, and he strode from the room as though rejunvenated.. maybe my medicines are more effective than I thought, but still. the tale I have written down suggests a glorious future for my fellow Amazons, if we live to see it.
I wonder what I shall write in the next chapter?
A recent painting of our Lord Ordo by the celebrated Vince N Vancough
Contact Ordo Equester at darrell.lias@tiscali.co.uk
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