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Foreword
Here it is, the Lorasia Games.
Finally. I wasn’t really aware of what I was getting myself into when I agreed
to run the Games. I knew in principle, of course—I’ve read the last Lorasia
Games—but it wasn’t until I sat down and started working on it that the sheer
enormity of the task hit me. But it’s done now, and that is saying something.
This being my first Games, I know I’ve probably done something wrong,
somewhere. With all the performances being performed, the fights being fought,
and the inventions being invented, it is bound to happen. Like John before me,
I offer up my apologies to anyone I might have slighted through omission or
inclusion. It certainly wasn’t intentional and I can only say I’m sorry. So.
I’m sorry. Okay. The apologies are finished, the foreword is done and so—onto
the Games!
Commentary
Note: The Color
Commentary was posted to the Crack of Doom 2 group but Stuart did not insert it
into the Games results or Cosmic Balance.
However, I consider it to be a part of the Games Tradition now and have
inserted it here.
LNN’s (Lorasia
News Network’s) Coverage of the Third Annual Lorasia Games:
Announcer: Greetings Lorasians. You’re watching LNN’s coverage of the Third
Annual Lorasia Games. This year’s events
look to be more challenging and exciting than last year’s events. And now, let’s take it to the floor with
LNN’s sports commentators, Terry and Howie.
Terry: Whoa! It’s
that time of year again, Howie! My
number one gripe: no dwarfs.
Howie: It’s
dwarves, Terry, dwarves – not dwarfs!
Quit being racially insensitive.
Terry: I am
not! But I have a legitimate
complaint! Without the dwarfs this year,
the Games just lose some of their excitement.
Think about the showdown between Fwalin and October last year! A classic, an absolute classic! Or between Fwalin and Ksenia the first
year. Another classic! Now what would be a match to equal
those? Kessie and October? You bet!
But we don’t even get that!
October and Gowja? Nope, no luck
there. She withdrew because the Dwarfs
withdrew. But enough of my gripes. Let’s get on with the show.
Howie: Right you
are Terry, right you are! About getting
on with the show, that is. And have we
got an action packed show for you today.
But first, let’s get a review of the games from LNN’s on the field
commentator, Boomer. Hey Boomer, you
there Boomer?
Boomer: I’m here
Howie, down at the official judges’ office for the Third Annual Lorasia
Games. This year’s events have been
changed up some from last year. First,
there’s an entirely new event, Jousting.
The Grand Melee has be renamed the Gladiatorial Games, and the Songs of
Praise, Riddling Contest and Bard’s Corners have been combined into a single
event, simply called Performance.
Invention is the new name of the Weapons Design contest, and it has
expanded coverage. Finally, the Wrestling Bout,
Fran: Hi
Boomer. What’s the Invention event all
about? It’s a chance for warriors,
artisans and craftsmen to show off unique creations they have developed. The category includes more than weapons, but
also work of art, useful items, and, well … inventions!
Boomer: Gee Fran,
thank you for that insightful commentary.
Now I want to talk about my favorite, the Obstacle Course. This includes a run to test endurance, not
unlike the marathon of last year, but also an obstacle course on which the
contestants shall be judged not just on the speed with which they run it, but
on their flair … their panache … their élan … their flamboyance … their savoir-faire, as they proceed through
its dangers. So, it’s back to you guys
in the studio.
Howie: Their
what!? Sav-wah-fairie? What the
heck is that? Anyway, thanks Boomer, I
think. Great job. I think.
Well, now it’s time to rate the competition and make our
predictions.
Terry: Starting
with the Obstacle Course. There are four
entries here that I know of: Marfisa of the Horseclans, Blaid of the Dark
Phoenix, Mraag of the Xaati, and Akemi of the Campfire Girlz! Don’t know if there’s a Grelg entry or not,
or any other surprise entries for that matter.
Frankly, this is a tough one. I’d place my vote on either Blaid of the
Dark Phoenix or Akemi of the Girlz! Both
are light and agile, and both are well trained in agile fighting
techniques. But I think Blaid has the
edge, no pun intended there Howie so shut your mouth, because she’s danced the
Dance of Swords. And as Dark Phoenix
demonstrated last year, they have flair, or, as Boomer would say, sav-wah-fairie. Akemi doesn’t dance, at least not that I know
of, she just kills things. As for
Marfisa, she doesn’t have that grace; she’s a stand up no nonsense
fighter. And the bug’s right out of
there. Bug may be big, bug may be bad,
but bug is probably not agile.
Howie: Now that’s where I think you’re wrong
Terry. Ever watch a bug …one bug, two
bug, red bug, blue bug? Where have I
heard that before?
Terry: Can’t say
that I have, Howie. Watched a bug, that
is. Unless she was cute as a bug in a
bikini.
Howie: Bugs are
agile, Terry. A-G-I-L-E. They have senses ordinary persons don’t. They sense vibrations so they always know
where their opponent is at. They are one
with nature. Be the Bug, Terry, be the
Bug. You’ll understand. I think the bug’s the bet. But I do agree Blaid and Akemi both are good
choices. Only Marfisa’s really
outclassed here.
Terry: Well, then
let’s go on to a sport where’s she’s not outclassed!
Howie: Okay, then,
let’s talk about the Jousting. Draconis,
carrying Queen Maelora’s favor is my choice.
He’s got something to joust for!
The honor of the dark elves and the hope for a future reconciliation. Who’s Marfisa jousting for?
Terry: The honor
of the clan?
Howie: Honor of the clan, pshaw! Draconis is my first choice, but then I have
to go with Marfisa. Of all the
contestants, she’s the only one who’s ever really jousted. As you may recall, she was the Lyredhcon2002
jousting champion.
Terry: Yea, but
that really wasn’t a competition.
Howie: I disagree,
I disagree. Anytime you go up against
one of Ksenia Campfire GIrlz your going up against a class act!
Terry: Oh
posh! Amarys is their entry, and I don’t
think she will fare well against the field.
But we’ll see, we’ll see. Anyway,
I give first place to Marfisa, and place Amarys second. Draconis will be a worthy opponent, but I
think the two Amazonian types will get the edge on him. They live on horseback. No shame there though. Maybe he’ll bed one of them.
Howie: Oh, now
we’re hitting below the belt. I didn’t
mean that! Scratch that!
Terry: Too late,
too late, bad pun alert!
Howie: I
understand there is some controversy over the jousting competition, however.
Terry: Well, yes,
there was the Grelgs protested and demanded
that their competitor, Eenie, encased in a Dred, which is sort of a 15ft
metallic, animated, psychopathic animated suit of armor with an extreme case of
bloodlust, be allowed to rip other jousters apart. But the judges nixed the idea on the grounds
that the Dred was magically animated, and as we all know, magic is not allowed.
Howie: Well, that
would be kind of out of the spirit of things, I mean, ripping the jousters
apart.
Terry: Oh, I don’t
know, I understand that the Xaati rip their opponents apart all of the time …
and eat them!
Howie: Now Terry,
there you go imagining things again. Or
making them up.
Terry: I am not …
er … do not!
Howie: Well now, let’s talk about the invention
contest. The problem with this darn
thing is that we don’t get an advanced look at the inventions. And last year’s most clever contestants, the
Dwarves, aren’t in it. No Dwarves,
Terry. I see your point now. And I’m not even sure we have the return of Eavylyn of the Ulminbore,
last year’s second place entry, this year.
In fact, I know of only two entries: Va’ld of the Campfire Girlz! and
Graydon of the Horseclans! So I say,
toss a coin! Heads Graydon wins, tails
Va’ld wins.
Terry: Heads!
Howie: Heads it
is. Our vote, Graydon of the Horseclans
simply because we have nothing better to do than flip coins and sing praises to
beer!
Terry: On to the
Gladitorial Combat.
Howie: Much better
selection, much better selection, but still an event with disappointment. The Grelgs’ number one entry, Gowja, withdraw
after Fwalin withdrew. Frankly, those
were the top two challengers to October of the Sons of the Dark Phoenix, but it
is unknown whether she entered this year!
This years known entrys are Lucan of the Horseclans [raspberry from
Terry], Andromeda of the Campfire Girls, a rumored entry from the Ulmibore that
we’ll get to in a minute, and the newcomer, Mraag the Bug of Xaati fame.
Terry: Without
Gowja, my money’s on the bug. Bug is
big, bug is bad! Very bad. Kind of like a cross between a linebacker and
a boxcar.
Howie: What the
heck are those, Terry.
Terry: Never you
mind, Howie. I predict Mraag will take
it all. As for second place, well
probably Andromeda, who I believe is a giant fresh from the fall of
Angoheim. The Ulminbore entry is still a
mystery, allegedly a Titan, but I’ll believe that one when I see it! Titan versus bug. Now that could be a big, bad battle. Bringing up the rear of the field will be
Lucan of the Horseclans, and that’s where he belongs. The rear of the field. And what’s all this nonsense about Lucan
knowing something about bugs? What’s he
been doing, studying bugs? One bug, two
bug, red bug, blue bug? What’s that all
about?
Howie: Gosh,
Terry, you don’t pull any punches, do you?
Do you really thing Lucan is that bad?
Terry: He stinks!
S-T-I-N-K-S!
Howie: I have to
disagree, Terry. I happened to have
visited Lucan and I know he’s been working out hard, increasing his strength
and agility, his ability to react to a threat, and yes, he’s been studying the
bugs! I predict that there will be a surprise
result and Lucan will defeat Mraag in the final round. Most improved in class.
Terry: Oh, give me
a break, Howie. Please, give me a
break. What have you been smoking,
boy? Lucan may be great at directing the
troops in battle, but he couldn’t fight his way of a paper bag!
Howie: Alright,
enough of this. Let’s get on to the
Performance category. Lots of entries
this year. Last year’s champion,
Kamaran, has put together a little something, and I understand the lovebirds,
Aethelu and Taliensin are having a go at it as well, with some kind of
duet. And the Xaati entry, Avatar Hogo …
well, I’m not sure what to make of their entry.
Anything rhyme with ‘nk nk nk’?
And I don’t even want to talk about the Girlz! entry – Joxar. However, I think the real sleeper is the Klan
Ulminbore entry. Supposedly Elron, the
Missal-Toad of Lyredh, will be preach-singing on the topic of Black Dooms, also
known as the Ka’kt, and he will be backed up by the charismatic baton of Donp
leading the Klan Konsort and Kwoir who shall provide loud percussive music to
the delight of all. Of course, we can’t
forget Smoovie Grelg, who will no doubt take us all by surprise.
Terry: Well, I
agree plenty of entries this year, and it’s hard to judge. But I think the sweet bliss of Aethelu and
Taliensin will appeal to the traditionalist in the judges and they shall take
the competition, unless Smoovie can indeed surprise us all. Kamaran is still a contender, as is the
Klan. Why the Grilz! entered Joxar is a
complete mystery to all, and may result in general mayhem, and as I’ve said
before, bug may be big, bug may be bad, but bug ain’t no musician in my
book. Well that’s about it …
Howie: Wait, wait
… we have a special report on the wedding of Aethelu and Taliensin.
Terry: Do we have
to?
Howie: Yes, we
do. It’s in the contract. So now, for this special report, let’s go
down to the field where Fran has something to say.
Fran: Well hello
again Howie. This is the wedding we’ve
all been waiting for – a fairy tale wedding, between the ‘Urchin of the Plains’
and the farmer bard of Port Royale. Each
had humble beginnings, and each rose to unimagined heights. She was abandoned as a child on the plains
and grew up alone, then gathered about her the band of misfits that became
known as the Horseclans of Ageria and went off in the company of the Grelgs to
save the world from demons.
Terry: Doing
anything in the company of the Grelgs take courage. And zero sense of smell.
Fran: And he was
the seventh son of a farmer who fell in love with music and poetry. What an unlikely combination, and a dream
every Lorasian can relate too.
Terry: Or not!
Howie: And what is
the bride wearing, Fran?
Terry: Oh no! Please, not that! Anything but that!
Fran: Well,
there’s a story behind the bride’s gown this year. The gown, and it’s beautiful by the way, was
given to her by Gabrielle of the Campfire Girlz! The gown was to be Gabrielle’s own until
unfortunate events overtook her and she was unable to use it.
Terry: Unfortunate
events? What an understatement
Fran. She died! And now’s she green!
Fran
[continuing]: And the list of
dignitaries is quite impressive: Ksenia and Raven and Queen Maelora, Kamaran
Zagora of the Sons of the Dark Phoenix, Fwalin Thunderbearer and Ori Barkskin
representing the Dwarves, prominent members of the Horseclans such as Lucan and
Bradamante, and of course, who can forget Smoovie Grelg of the Grelg Goblins
clan.
Terry: That’s the
first time I’ve ever heard a Grelg described as a dignitary!
Fran: And now for
a detailed description of the bride’s gown, followed by a …
Howie
[interrupting]: That’s enough for now Fran …
Fran: [continuing
unabated]: detailed description of the ceremony, and then a …
Howie
[interrupting]: Fran … uh … Fran!
Terry: Fran!
Fran [continuing
unabated]: detailed description of the receptions to follow, along with …
Terry: Fran! No
Fran, no!
Fran: … an
analysis of the happy couple’s wedding vows …
[At which point a
large hook appears on screen and snags Fran]
Howie: Thank you,
LNN, thank you. Well folks, that’s all
for now. On with the Third Annual
Lorasia Games, and may the best man win!
Terry: Bug … may
the best bug win!
Howie: Whatever.
[Fade to music,
cut to Games].
Prelude
The day dawned bright and
clear, the sun a brilliant burning orb shining over the horizon. On a normal
day, a multitude of different tasks would be started, or completed. Cows would
be milked, eggs collected, shops opened, forges stoked, patrols walked, sails
unfurled, fishing nets cast, fields tilled, timber felled, metals mined, and
any of a hundred—even a thousand—other jobs, errands and responsibilities would
be performed. The activities that made up the day to day lives of the people of
Lorasia would be carried out.
Today, however, was not a
normal day. Today, the cows remained in their barns, the eggs remained in their
nests, the shops were closed, the forges were cold, the sails reefed, the
fishing nets hung up, the fields, timber and metals untouched, and the
hundred—even thousand—other jobs, errands and responsibilities that were
performed on a daily basis were left. For today was the day that many people
looked forward to the whole year round. Today was the Lorasia Games.
Across the land, boys and
girls woke dreaming of glory—of battles fought, of races run, of tales told,
songs sung, of romantic epics to sadden the eye and gladden the heart—of
victory. And not only boys and girls had these dreams of glory. Grown men and
women, too, had these same dreams, but these dreams were not the idle fancies
of what could be or what one day might be. Rather, they were the dreams of
those brave enough to stand up for their empires and themselves, the ones who
took up the challenge of competition for the good of the leaders and the people
they served. These dreams of glory were even more tantalising because they
could be so easily achieved. Perhaps easily was a word ill suited for what lay
ahead of these competitors, for surely no one entered into the Games could
expect anything to come easily. But the dreams of glory were certainly more
attainable.
The Lorasia Games. The
very name itself conjured images of heroes, villains, and devious Grelgs
claiming “Cheat!” in every contest. Warriors, inventors, bards and, indeed,
even empires had made their reputations in past Games, so the opportunity to
shine was self evident. Equally as evident, however, was the spectre of losing,
and more than one competitor found him or herself face down on the arena floor,
with the taste of defeat as bitter—or, in most cases, even more so—as the blood
and sand in his or her mouth. But the contestants weren’t thinking about
ignominy of defeat but were, rather, thinking of the self same glory that
children all over the land were thinking about.
So it was that these
self-same contestants paced, fretted, fiddled, and otherwise tried to keep
themselves busy as they awaited the time for the Games to begin. Across
Lorasia, taverns and inns did a bustling business as customers ate, drank and
made merry, placing bets and making predictions on who would win what contest
and which empire would come out on top. Would the Dark Phoenix repeat their
victory from last year? Was it true that Fwalin’s Folk or, indeed, any Dwarves,
would not be participating in the events this year? Would a newcomer make a
splash, as the
Not so for those participating
in the Games. As the day wore on, their agitation increased, their desire to
get on with it growing ever stronger. Finally, as the sun began its descent
from its rampart in the sky, the contestants got their wish. One moment, those
who were headed for the Games paced and fretted on their own, alone with their
thoughts and with each other. The next moment, they were joined by a quartet of
people. Those who had travelled the Games before knew these figures, for they
saw their like at last year’s Games. Three of the men—if men they were—wore
amour, weapons and helms, the visors of those helms pulled down. There was a
difference, however. This year, the three men wore identical armour. Each had
mirrored helms, chainmail hauberks and dull, slate grey breastplates. Over
these breastplates, one figure wore a sash of brilliant, white satin; one wore
a sash of crushed,
By contrast, the fourth
person was none other than Tandilus, Lorasia’s greatest Mage. Much like last
year, Tandilus’ attire was bedraggled robes, which was matched by the Magus’
unkempt hair and beard. Despite his tatterdemalion appearance, however, his
eyes were sharp and piercing, and his bearing brooked no argument. Indeed, his
attitude was that of someone accustomed to being obeyed, and one who did not
suffer fools gladly, if at all. His appearance was lent further dignity by the
large staff he held, an obvious symbol of his office, and one he wielded with
authority. An aura of power crackled around this man, an aura ignored at one’s
own peril.
Sweeping the room with
his gaze, Tandilus asked if all those travelling to the Games were present.
When no one spoke to the contrary, Tandilus nodded and muttered to himself.
Though they couldn’t be sure, the people present thought they heard the words
“errand boy” and “gopher” being bandied about. Nevertheless, the mage
negligently waved his staff in the air, murmuring whilst he did so, and then
pointed the staff at the participants. A nimbus of energy coalesced around the
end of the staff and then expanded, slowly enveloping those destined to travel
to the Games in its corona. Those within the aura of power felt an increasing
tension around them, as if the very air was tightening in anticipation of what
was to come. A latticework of small, dark lines extended into the nimbus
surrounding the contestants, much like a grid, and the tension felt in the air
thickened as these lines snaked out. When those within the grid were completely
enclosed by the lines, a burst of power shot through aura, turning the envelope
opaque, blotting out the guards, Tandilus and their surroundings. A solid white
bubble of energy surrounded the Games participants, cutting them off from any
sense of reality.
A slow ripple of
coruscating colour flowed across the inside of the barrier and then split, as
if like lightning, into jagged spears of multi-coloured energy. These spears
split again, and then again, until the inside of the obstruction was
crisscrossed with throbbing, pulsating veins of dazzling brilliance. Suddenly,
the bubble began to shrink, the edges moving in, the top collapsing down, to
the point that each member of the travelling party was outlined by the strange,
vibrating power, not unlike a second skin. And then that, too, began to shrink,
and each person shrinking with it, until such time that the aura winked out of
existence, taking the participants with it.
Within the energy field,
a moment of eternity, an age of brevity, an instant of infinity, an epoch of
seconds. Each felt their skins turn inside out, and their souls along with it,
their consciousness expanding to fill the cosmos and shrinking to dance on the
head of a pin, at being one with all and being one with nothing. Then, just as
suddenly, they are back in their own skins and back in their own souls, their
consciousness shrinking and expanding back into to their own heads. The
envelope of power expanded out into the bubble of crisscrossed, throbbing lines
of dazzling brilliance, which reversed its process of splitting, so that they
were, once again, as they started.
Or almost as they
started. For when they started, they were in their own camps, or in their own
cities. Now, they were…elsewhere. They stood in a valley, surrounded on all
sides by vast mountain peaks. A lake lay in the valley, next to which was a
large field surrounded by twenty huge banners a hundred feet high and thirty
feet wide. On the shores of the lake stood a dozen or so tents, each flying a
flag of an empire of Lorasia. Each group of contestants appeared by the tent
with their appropriate flag, their home for the next two days.
The sky above was a
strange, muted grey, with swirling patterns not unlike clouds shifting and
changing. Whilst the sun could be seen through this fog-like substance, it was
plain to see that this was here to serve one purpose—that of a filter. What
with the different and disparate empires and, indeed, races attending, it would
be difficult to find a time of day that would suit everyone. The hosts of the
Games solved this problem by creating an atmosphere that punishes neither
goblin nor dwarf, dark elf nor elf, in that the sky is neither day nor night
nor even dusk. All participants would be on an equal footing.
Around them, activity
bustled. There was much for a wandering gaper to gape at. Amidst the tents and
encampments of the various competing empires, pennants proudly proclaiming
their allegiances could be found athletes training, runners running, warriors
warrioring, and Grelgs looking shifty, whilst merchants hawked their wares of
poorly cooked food, hats with the Lorasian Games motif emblazoned on the front,
and, for no readily justifiable reason, huge gloves with one finger pointing
into the air. At each tent, and at other places throughout the valley, stood
three figures in arms, armour and sash, the mirror image of the three who
appeared with Tandilus. Their vigilance, particularly around the tent of the
Grelgs, was fierce.
Those who attended the
Games last year recognised the floating eyeballs, nerves dangling in draped
tendrils, that were Tandilus’ watch…eyes at the Games. They floated in
seemingly random patterns, passing in between tents, around the field, through
the banners, their unblinking stares watching all that passed before and
beneath them.
Yet
this year, for all the sights on offer, the gaze of all were drawn, like moths
to something moths like, to the encampment of the Xaati, and of course to the
big bad bugs themselves. There were, it seemed, several types of bug on offer.
Most – and there were perhaps fifty or more busying themselves about the
encampment – were about ten feet tall, or rather long, for they tended to move
about on all fours, leaving a further two limbs, together with a pair of mobile
mandibles, to work with.
Of
the remaining half dozen, all but three were closer to fifteen or sixteen feet
tall, thicker-set, and moving upright on two limbs, leaving a further two sets
to use as arms. Although when they needed to move more swiftly, they fell onto
four limbs to run. Most of the creatures’ limbs were relatively slender, if one
could call foot wide and heavily carapaced slender, but the uppermost pair of
one of the yet-larger Xaati’s limbs were truly immense, glistening with row
upon row of barbs, whilst his mandibles hung equally huge, razor-edged and
capable – so he was happy to demonstrate – of biting through tree trunks. Black
carapace harder than steel encased his body, both back and – those who looked
for weaknesses were alarmed to note – underside, whilst within his mouth were
backed row upon row of teeth.
Which
left but two. One, scorning such huge array of weaponry, seemed almost
inoffensive by comparison, though that was not to disparage his own still-sharp
set of mandibles. Yet this was made up for in his carapace. Whilst those of
most of the Xaati seemed fairly functional, coloured a universal black, his
seemed shaped, sculpted about him almost as a cloak, and glistened with a dark rainbow, blues and
purples seeming to flow over it as he moved in the half-light of the games.
Impressive
as this shiny fellow was, even he seemed dwarfed by the final Xaati. Eighteen
feet long, and possessed of some dozen or so pairs of limbs, she was surrounded
at all times by a pair of guards, and fussed over by another half-dozen of the
smaller bugs, who moved to act on her slightest whim, be it easing an itch or
chewing her food. This, clearly, was their queen.
So
much for the bugs themselves. But their encampment was equally unusual.
Spurning the tents proffered by the hosts of the games, instead they had
brought with them large quantities of a dark, clay-like substance. And as the
larger Xaati strutted about, clacking at any who came near, the smaller
creatures busied themselves consuming the clay, before excreting it into long,
sausage-like shapes. These they moulded with remarkably rapidity into low,
dome-shaped buildings, connected by a series of low, tube-like corridors,
until, only a few hours after their arrival, a single building of
interconnected domes sat, lurking, at the edge of the field. The Xaati had
arrived.
Eventually, the winking domes
of energy bringing their gaping passengers slowed and, finally, stopped. With a
final burst of power, Tandilus and the three faceless guards flashed into
existence, near a small stage set up in the centre of the banners. Officials
gathered the different empires together, bringing the leaders and the
contestants together in front of the stage. It was a strange mixture that stood
in front of the stage—human, elf, goblin, dwarf, giant, titan, and bug, all
gathered together in this strange valley, to participate in the most
anticipated event in Lorasia.
Tandilus, along with the
three guards, had taken their place on the stage and they were soon joined by a
small, bespectacled and somewhat bedraggled figure. In one hand was a sheaf of
papers, in the other a stick of charcoal, which he used to mark various papers
in the sheaf. His hair stuck out at all angles, his robes were dishevelled and
there were some stains on the front. There was a ripple of laughter as he
walked on the stage, clearly focussed on a train of thought, crossed in front
of the crowd and started to walk off. With a shake of his head, he looked up
and smiled sheepishly.
“Greetings, one and all.
For those of you who don’t know, my name is Alran, and I have the honour of
being the chief official at these, the Third Official Lorasia Games. I know
that most, if not all, of you have heard my spiel before. Well, you’re going to
hear it again. My apologies, but I have to make sure that everyone knows what
is going to happen and how the Games will be run. Just so no one has any
misconceptions,” and here Alran gives a hard stare at the contingent of Grelgs
in the audience, “I have no hand or say in any of the judging or scoring of the
different categories of competition here at the Games. My job is to insure that
there is no cheating and that the Games are run fairly and without prejudice.”
“Ha!” A small goblin by
the name of Smoovie, who most of the participants, unfortunately, knew, stepped
forward. “Wivout prejudice? Wivout prejudice? There ain’t nothin’ but
prejudice an’ bias in all these here games. It’s a conspiracy, wot’s designed
so’s all th’ other empires wot thinks they’re better’n’ us cin show how they’re
supposedly better’n’ us—but only ‘cuz they cheat! They know as they
can’t beats us in a straight up…” The goblin’s tirade slowed to a halt as a
large and hulking shadow fell over him. Looking up, he saw a huge guard
standing behind him, arms folded across his massive chest. “Maybe we’s cin talk
‘bout this when there’s not a wall o’ muscle breathin’ down me neck.” Smoovie
waves at the back of his neck and rubs his grubby shirt, clearly irritated.
“Yaz steamin’ up th’ duds, bub. Quit yaz breathin!”
Alran paused while
Smoovie tried to put a few of the other Grelgs between him and the huge guard,
and then continued. “The Games, like last year, are a two day event. The
competitions will begin tomorrow, which will see the Inventions, the Obstacle
Course, and then, in the evening, the Performances. The following day will see
the Joust and then will close with the Gladitorial Contest.
“The prizes for each
category and for the overall Games will remain the same as last year. That is,
500 gold will go to the winner of each category, with the runner up receiving
100 gold. The overall winner will receive 100 troops of their choice. Since the
method of calculating the overall winner worked, in our opinion, quite well
last year, the same scoring system will be used this year. For those of you who
aren’t aware, the winner of a category will received 3 points, 2 points will go
to the empire that came second, and the third place finisher will receive one
point. The empire with the most points will, naturally, win the grand prize.
“This evening, however,
it gives me great pleasure to announce that the wedding of Aethelu Wintersong,
Matron Mother of House Wintersong and the Warrior Bard of the Horseclans of
Ageria, to Lyrehdian bard Taliensin of Port Royale. There will be a wedding,
which will be followed by a reception, and all participants in the Games are invited
to the festivities. Now…”
“’Scuze me,” Smoovie
said, moving closer to the front of the Grelgs whilst still keeping a number of
goblins between him and the large, ever present guard, who seemed to be
mirroring the Bard’s movements.
Alran fixed the Grelgs
with a fierce stare, which the goblins ignored with practiced glee. Pinching
the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, Alran speaks, his tone curt. “What
is it?”
“Weeeelllll…see, one o’
our number, one wot ain’t here right now, well, see, he’s sorta like a 15 foot
tall psychopathic killing machine, with four arms an’ all…Yaz said we’re all
invited. ‘S’that include Eenie?” Smoovie, and the Grelgs around him, give big
toothy smiles, obviously envisioning the carnage that may ensue.
At this point, Tandilus
spoke up. “That depends, my little green friend. Can your fifteen foot tall
psychopathic killing machine—with four arms and all—survive without magic? Hmm.
I can see by your crestfallen little faces that he wouldn’t. Well, I don’t know
that I can speak for the right honourable Mistress Wintersong—ha, won’t be able
to say that for very much longer, now, will I?—but I, for one, would be most
interested in seeing him show up. Being fifteen feet tall does have its
advantages, I do admit, but without magic, he’s really nothing more that a
scrap heap, isn’t he?”
“Yaz don’ talk ‘bout me
baby like that!” One of the goblins leapt forward, spittle flying, as other
Grelgs sought to hold him back. “He’s a good baby, he is, so yaz keep yer dirty
no-magic ter yazselves! I’s worked too hard ter have it wrecked by the likes o’
yaz!” Some of the Grelgs managed to get a hold of the goblin, and pulled him
back, muttering and cursing. The words “baby” and “my darlin’” are heard in his
mutterings, but they still managed to calm him down. He was not the only goblin
grumbling, however.
Alran’s mouth was pinched
and his hand gripped the sheaf of papers tightly. Shaking his head, he spoke
once more. “Well, now that we’ve heard from Tandilus on that matter, perhaps we
can hear from him on other matters magical. He will now explain the rules
concerning magic in these Games. Tandilus?”
Tandilus gave Alran a
small, perfunctory bow as he made his way to the front of the stage. “Thank
you, Alran. Well. Now. Magic. It seems I’ve given this spiel before. First and
foremost, with the exception of the Inventions category, magic in all it’s
forms is not allowed in the Games. This includes both secular and divine magic,
as it all pretty much comes from the same source. Of course, we of the proper
school of magic understand that our way is the most pure form, but that is
neither here nor there. The fact remains that magic of any sort, be it spells
cast by mages or prayers uttered by priests, is not allowed.
“The same holds true for
magical items, or items that are powered by magic. I will use the definition I
used last year, to define what a magical item is. A magical item is considered
anything either fashioned by non-mundane means, or affected by non-mundane
means, or created from non-mundane materials, or powered by non-mundane means.
My little green friend’s fifteen foot tall psychopathic killing machine, for
example, would be considered, for the purpose of these contests, a magical
item, since the killing machine is powered by magic. Finely crafted arms and
armour are not considered magical, for the aid they give the bearer is not
derived from magical means. I shall be casting a spell before each contest that
will render any magical items inert, so that magical weapons and armour can, if
they wish, be used—it’s just that the benefits the user gains from any magic
will not be operational. As such, these items could be utilised in one of the
competitions. If, for example, the ubiquitous fifteen foot tall psychopathic
killing machine were to enter the Gladitorial Games, he would be allowed to do
so, but without the aid of any magic.
“There will also be spot
checks throughout the Games, and if any magic is deemed to be in use—from, say,
potions or spells—I will be on hand to counter those effects. Oh. Yes. One last
thing. You all know about my eyes—and if you don’t, why not?—but they have been
modified as well, so that they can detect the use of magic by anyone trying to
affect the contests being held. Hmm. Yes. Well, that’s all I have to say.” With
that, the mage steps back.
Alran steps forward and
nods to Tandilus. “Thank you, Magus, for making those points. Just a few more
things before I let you go to get ready for the wedding. First, you each have
your own areas, designated by the appropriate flag. I ask that you remain
within those areas. If you do have reason to leave, contact a Games official
and a guard will be assigned to escort you.
“Second, Tandilus brought
up the floating eyes, which I am sure you have seen. Tandilus created
these…devices for last year’s Games and they worked so well, we asked if he
could bring them again. So he has, with the appropriate modifications he
described. Like last year, they will be used to keep watch on all the
proceedings. Please pay no attention to them but we do ask that no one try to
tamper with, destroy, eat or—“ and here Alran sighs, looking at the Grelgs—“hit
them with spitballs.”
Heads turn toward the
Grelgs, where several members had straws in their mouths and a huge wet wad of
paper was stuck to one of the floating eyes. Looking like a kid caught with his
hand in the cookie jar, the Grelgs lower their straws. “Geez, they’re gonna
ruin all our fun,” one of the culprits mumbled.
Clearing his throat,
Alran waited until everyone was looking forward once more. “Finally, and most
importantly, everyone have fun. That’s what the Games are all about. Enjoy
yourselves tonight and whilst you are here. The first competition will begin
tomorrow at
Wedding Bells
As the participants make
their way back to their respective areas, they can see workers beginning to set
up two large open air tent for the upcoming wedding and reception. Candles of
every shape and size were set up in and around the tents, as well as flowers
and colourful plants. An altar was set up at the front of the tent where the
wedding was to be held, the symbols for Lyredh and the Balance prominent on the
coverings. Also on the altar is Aethelu’s sigil, that of a harp super-imposed
on a running horse, and Taliensin’s sigil, the three musical clefs in a
diagonal line, with the base clef at the bottom left, the viol clef in the
middle and the treble clef at the upper right. In the reception tent, carpets
and matting have been placed upon the ground to provide seating, and lanterns
have been hung from poles, their flickering light playing over the
festivities. Around the perimeter low
tables are placed for food and drink.
Seating is cross-legged. There is much scurrying and rushing about, as
the craftsmen and helpers from Wintersong erect the pavilion that will hold the
wedding and reception.
Finally, the tents are up,
the musicians are in place and the guests are ready. It is time for the great
celebration of the wedding of Aethelu Wintersong, Matron Mother of House
Wintersong and the Warrior Bard of the Horseclans of Ageria, and the renowned
Lyrehdian bard Taliensin of Port Royale.
The ceremony begins with
the entry of the guests, starting with the Campfire Girlz. First to enter is Queen Maelora, escorted by
Ksenia the Raven. They are followed by
Tsianina, Knight-Regent of Maelora-Ced.
Next to enter are the leaders of Klan Ulminbore, Sam Skulcap and
Eavylyn, Dr’nubulax and Elron Hoofer, smiling a huge, goofy smile. They, in
turn, are followed by Kamaran Zagora, October Ragnorak, Draconis Ankora, Blaid
Syrire and Kandark Vulgara of Dark Phoenix. Behind the
A new clan to the games,
the Legion of Light, are led by their leader, Gog, a large, strapping Giant of
imposing demeanor. He is followed by Gigantica, who, whilst not as large or
imposing as Gog, nevertheless cuts a striking figure as she strides down the
aisle. The last empire to enter is one no one has heard of before, a new empire
entering the struggles of Lorasia. One Layman Rhinehart of the Hart Clan,
marches tall and proud to his seat. One
empire, noticeable in its absence, is the Xaati. Social niceties apparently a
skill not covered in the hives and burrows of the Bugs, their omission from the
festivities is not mourned. In fact, many breathe a sigh of relief when they
see—or fail to see—the huge monstrosities at the wedding. Finally, the members
of the Horseclans begin to enter.
First to enter is Lucan,
Chief Warlord of the Horseclans, and commander of the Agerian Crusaders,
looking ill-at-ease in his formal attire.
He wears the sword “Quickflame” in its scabbard at his side. Lucan escorts Bradamante who wears a full
length dress that narrows at the waist and then flares out into a flowing
skirt, upon which are emblazoned the symbols of the Cosmic Balance. She wears knee-high dark coloured boots and a
ceremonial broadbelt secures the dress about her narrow waist, as well as a
sword – a rapier – at her side as a mark of honour. Next to enter is the
Paladin Prester John, Grand Master of the Order of Balance, Society of the
Golden Scales and commander of Knights of the Rose. He wears formal attire as well, but over it,
a White Tabard emblazoned with the Emblem of the Order and Society. He walks with a noticeable grimace and
weariness, and it is apparent to all that he has recently been seriously
injured. Walking with him is Najhara,
the Crusader of Light. They are followed
by Jalal ad-Din, the tall, dark-haired lord of House Sericana, who escorts
Marfisa, current commander of Wintersong, attired similar to Bradamante, but in
a much more provocative style. Her
ornamental chain skirt is slit all the way to her waist and accented with an
armored corset, knee-high leather boots with metal guards, and bracers. The other members of the clan arrive in quick
order, Lisa, Rebekah, Malagigi the Older and Malagigi the Younger, and Aleath,
the dark mage, and finally, Graydon and Philo, who have evidently begun their
celebration early, and the new bard, Tamaria.
The
remaining guests file in, mostly members of Ksenia’s Campfire Girlz, fractious
as usual, along with other members of the Grelg clan, who are watched closely
by the Campfire Girlz. Bringing up the rear, Iroldo, Priest of Lyredh and the
Balance enters, attired in robes emblazoned with the symbols of Lyredh and the
Greater Ones, and takes center stage, nodding to Queen Maelora, and looking
expectantly down the aisle.
There
is a moment of silence. Taliensin of Port Royale enters, singing a soft tune
that nonetheless is heard by everyone,
“She is the wild dandelion of the plain,
Free riding sweet breezes ‘cross verdant vale,
Her will, so strong, so clear, and yet so frail,
Her innocence, my heart and soul, sustain.”
He
walks up the aisle and stands beside Iroldo.
His voice drops, then ceases altogether, although each member of the
celebration could swear he still sang.
He is accompanied by his best man, Red Eye. Red Eye is a tall gnoll who
also wears the accoutrements of a priest of the Temple of Balance, and those
who have travelled to Port Royale know that he is the head priest of the Temple
of Balance in that city. He takes his place next to Taliensin, looking smart
and proud.
Aethelu
Wintersong appears, and all heads turn in her direction. She is attired in a gown of white, trailing
out behind her in a crescent as she ascends the aisle. No one, not even her own clan members, have
ever seen her attired in anything this delicate or fragile; a marked changed
from her usual casual slacks and blouse, or ceremonial chain. As she walks up the aisle she is followed by
one bridesmaid, Gabrielle of the Campfire Girlz, smiling wistfully, and for
once, not even Queen Maelora’s legendary beauty win an eye from her. Behind them comes Alcina, playing the role of
wedding planner, and making sure that everything is just right.
And
so the ceremony begins, with Iroldo intoning the sacred rites of Lyredh and the
Greater Ones, uniting Taliensin and Aethleu as one in beauty, and, as they say
their vows, holding hands and peering into each others eyes, Aethelu actually
keeps the vows to a mere three succinct stanzas. And just like that Iroldo pronounces them man
and wife, bard and bard, and they parade down the aisle as one. They are followed by Queen Maelora and
Ksenia, and each of the honoured leaders, whereupon there is then a general
stampede to the reception.
A place is reserved for
Taliensin and Aethelu at the head of the reception. To their right is seated Queen Maelora and Ksenia,
as well as Tsianina, while to the left sits Sam and Eavylyn of the
Ulminbore. Behind Taliensin and Aethelu
sit the remaining members of their clan—Lucan, Arislan, Marfisa, Bradamante,
Alcina, Antea, Meridiana, Prester John, Philo and Graydon. Arrayed lengthwise to the right are Najhara,
Gabrielle, Andromeda, Amarys, Va’Id and Joxar, followed by Fwalin Thunderbearer
and Ori Barkskin. Arrayed lengthwise
along the left are Smoovie, Grim, Swotti and the Grelgs, followed by Kamaran
Zagora, October Ragnorak, Draconis Ankora, Blaid Syrire and Kandark
Vulgara. Opposite Aethelu are the
Tamaria acts as hostess,
showing the guests their seats. The serving of the food and drink by waiters
and waitresses is overseen by the newest bard, and she is quick to upbraid any
of the servants who seem to be neglecting their duties. She also makes the
rounds of the guests, making sure they are having a good time and sharing a
joke or a wry comment with them all.
Finally, the bride and groom
made their entrance, attended by Gabrielle and Alcina, and they are
seated. Aethelu, for once at a loss for
words, thanks each of the guests for coming. She congratulated Smoovie on
becoming a bard. The food and drink was
then brought, and the dancing girls and musicians began to perform, much to the
delight of the guests. Once the main courses were completed, and desert and
after-dinner drinks were served, Taliensin and Aethelu gave a short
performance, singing of love and life and the trials and tribulations of
married life. When they finished, they invited Gabrielle, Smoovie and Kamaran
to do the same. Gabrielle performed a touching story of two girls (naturally)
in love, which is filled with sly double entendres and witty plays on words,
much to the delight of those in attendance. Smoovie repeated his performance of
dirty limericks just like he did last year, although these limericks were new
and, if possible even lewder than those performed previously. Finally, Kamaran
repeated his performance of last year’s Games winning Bard entry, “A Call to
Arms” and the effect was no less moving than it was last year. Once that is
finished, October and Blaid stand and, in honour of the bride and groom, they
perform a duet in the “Dance of Swords,” a balletic, graceful performance of
athletics, swordsmanship and dance.
With the hour well past
The Opening
Dawn broke over Lorasia,
and the excitement that stirred the blood yesterday was trebled or quadrupled
today. For today, the Games began! Across the land, people flocked to their
town squares and market places, to witness the events taking place on the Games
pitch. In these town squares and market places, vendors hawked their wares,
everything from food and drink to banners with the names of the different
contestants printed on them. Jugglers, acrobats and that dreaded evil of all,
mimes, wandered the crowds, providing distractions while the spectators waited
for the Games to start.
At the Games themselves,
people began to stir as the sun, covered by the swirling grey miasma overhead,
rose higher in the sky, allowing light to filter down on the various
encampments. Those party goers who imbibed heavily were feeling somewhat worse
for wear, and the smell of cooking breakfast made them moan and
promise—ardently—the promise that all heavy drinkers make at one time in their
life—that they would never touch a drink again. And this time, they meant it!
For the attendees who did
not imbibe, or who were able to moderate their consumption, breakfast was a
pleasant affair, the smells of food wafting through the air, and taking their
leisure as the meal was brought to them. For most of the people, that is. Some
were not so relaxed, as they concentrated on the events that were to take
place. Those entering the Invention contest were putting the finishing touches
on their entries, or were polishing, shining, adjusting or otherwise tinkering
with those innovations that they hoped would bring them victory.
Those attendees who were
to compete in the Obstacle Course were concentrating on the task before them.
Some, like Akemi of the Campfire Girlz and Blaid Syrire of the Dark Phoenix,
limbered up, stretching their limbs and bending in, some might say, suggestive
ways. There were certainly a fair number of spectators as these two women
warmed up. They also kept up a constant stream of banter with those spectators,
cracking jokes and engaging in ribald humour. Others kept a more disciplined regime,
like Marfisa of the Horseclans and Gog of the Legions of Light, who maintained
a distance from any distractions, choosing to focus, instead, on the matter at
hand. Layman Hart, of the little known Hart Clan, seemed taken somewhat aback
at all the pagentry involved in the Games, but it could be seen by the
determination in his face that he was resolved to make a fair accounting of
himself.
As the morning wore on,
preparations were being made in the circle. At the far end, a stage was being
erected, where the inventions and works of progress could be displayed to best
advantage. In the circle itself, work was being done on the grounds—pits were
dug, to be filled with mud; rocks and huge boulders were placed in various
areas; rope ladders were hung, as were tall walls; a thin beam was placed
across one of the pits of mud, and rope was being woven around stakes driven
into the ground, creating a parallel line of squares. The Obstacle Course was
taking shape.
Inventions
A chime rang out across
the valley, once, twice, and then ten more times, marking the
Alran stood on the stage,
his sheaf of papers, though now clipped to a board, still clutched in one hand.
“These banners, for those of you who have not performed here previously, are
bringing these Games across Lorasia, so that all manner of races and peoples
can witness the heroics and feats of daring do that take place here today.
These banners have twins placed in all the market places and town squares
throughout the land. Each victor’s accomplishments will be heralded by all.
Now. Those entered in the Invention category, please come forward.”
Four empires had entries
in the Invention category, and these four empires’ representatives made their
way to the stage. First out was Va’Id, of the Campfire Girlz, follwed by the
Titan Andromeda, wearing a dazzling set of armour. Next came Kandark Vulgara,
of the Dark Phoenix, and in his hands was a strange contraption of spinning
metal and blades***. The next to the last entrant was Graydon of the
Horseclans, and in his hands was a rectangular box about
twelve by six by three inches, with wooden sides and bronze doors on the front
and back. There also seemed to be dials and other sorts of devices on the box,
but it was hard to see at this time. Last, and certainly not least, was a pair
of goblins. The first, Swotti, sauntered through the circle, a rag in one hand
and a leer on his face. The other, however, was not a normal goblin—rather, it
was a goblin sitting in a metal structure fifteen feet high, with four arms—two
fists, one pincer claw and a ballista—and two legs. Stranger still, it looked
as if the goblin was permanently attached to this device, for there were all
sorts of rods, poles and pins sticking into his body. This device walked
to the stage, and there was a slight tremor that pulsed through the ground
every time this...thing...took a step. Swotti used the rag to wipe the bottom
three feet of the legs of this beast, as he could not really reach any higher.
Finally, all four contestants reached the stage.
Clearing his throat,
Alran now spoke, both to the contestants and to those watching the proceedings
throughout Lorasia. “We kick off the Third Annual Lorasia Games with the
Invention category. This category takes into account any and all unique
creations, be they works of art, weapons or” and here, Alran stares at the 15
foot tall goblin “any other device the inventors might think of. The inventions
will be judged on three different criteria—aesthetic value, use or
practicality, and technical difficulty to create. Each contestant will be given
an opportunity to explain what he or she has made and then to give a
demonstration of its use. The judges will then examine the designs for their
difficulty in construction, after which they will make their decisions. So. The
first on the list is Va’Id, of the Campfire Girlz.”
The elf steps forward,
and motions the titan to step forward with him. “My entry is the Armour of
Beauty but, seeing as how armour is to be worn, I have asked Andromeda to model
it for all of you.” As Va’Id speaks, Andromeda turns slowly, allowing the elf
to point out each element he is speaking at the time he is speaking of it. “The
armour is made of silvered steel, alloys of precious metal and tempered, folded
steel that are as bright as gold and stronger than iron. As you can see, the
breastplate, arm and leg guards are intricately carved with scenes that would
please Lyredh, the beauty goddess, including Maelora’Ced and other scenes of
beauty. Chain mail covers the joints at neck, elbow, knee and midriff, so that
movement is not hindered but the maximum amount of protection is provided.
Tabards and sashes of brightly coloured pastel silks have been added to the
ensemble to give it that extra bit of elegance and class. Great detail went
into the creation of this armour, with as much attention paid to the beauty and
intricacies of the armour as to the practicalities and efficiency of the
armour. As you can see from Andromeda, the armour has been fitted to mould her
body, again giving her freedom of movement with as much protection as possible.
She will be wearing this armour in the Gladitorial contest, so you will get the
opportunity to see the armour in action.” With a flourish, Va’Id gives a bow.
“Thank you for your time.”
The next to take the
stage is Kandark Vulgara, of the Dark Phoenix. He brings his invention up and places
it before him. He also brings some pieces of lumber. “Very simply, my creation
is called a lathe. It is used to shape and create intricate designs on wood and
even metal. With the right blades, you can do both. The machine spins the wood,
metal or other material you want worked, and the blades make the incisions and
cuts as the material spins. The precision you get with this machine is much
greater than what can be done by hand, and it is quicker as well. I will now
give a demonstration.” Taking a piece of lumber, he places it in the lathe and
sets the machine to spinning. There is a sound and smell of cutting wood and,
after a few minutes, a chair leg is produced, carved with designs up and down
the leg. Waving to the crowd, Kandark takes his leave of the stage.
Graydon of the Horseclans walks onto the stage as Kandark is
leaving, holding the box in his hands. He introduces his Antikythera
Computational Device. This design consists of a rectangular box about twelve by six by
three inches, with the bronze machinery contained by wooden sides. The front
and back are covered by bronze doors on which are inscribed detailed
instructions. Inside are two inscribed parapegma calendar plates. Three dials, one on the front, and two in the
back, display the device's readout.
The first dials shall
contain two concentric bands; one showing the signs of the Lorasian and Cosmic
Balance zodiac, a sixteen-degree-wide belt straddling the apparent path of the
sun, and the other the names of the Lorasian months. A pointer reveals the
position of the sun in the zodiac for every day of the year. The second dial
displays an eighteen-year cycle of solar eclipses, while the third dial keeps
track of the different phases of the moon. Both scales are carefully marked off
in degrees. The front dial fits exactly over the main driving-wheel, which
turns the pointer by means of an eccentric drum-assembly. The purpose of this
dial is to show the annual motion of the sun in the zodiac. By means of key
letters inscribed on the zodiac scale, corresponding to other letters on the
parapegma calendar plate, it can also show the main risings and settings of
bright stars and constellations throughout the year.
The back dials are more
complex and they must account for more information. The lower dial has three slip rings; while
the upper dial has four. Each dial has a little subsidiary dial resembling the
"seconds" dial of one of the clocks Graydon made for Maelora’s
wedding. Each of the large dials is inscribed with lines about every six degrees,
and between the lines Graydon inscribes letters and numbers. On the lower dial
the letters and numbers record "moon, so many hours; sun, so many
hours"; and therefore indicate the main lunar phenomena of phases and
times of rising and setting. On the upper dial the inscriptions present
information on the risings and settings, stations and retrogradations of the
planets known to the Horseclans and Elves and Ulminbore.
Graydon explains that he
made his calculations using advanced geometry, and the arcs on the dials were
first divided geometrically, and the subdivided by the same means. A slip ring mechanism is designed to account
for leaps years.
Inside the box, some
thirty-nine bronze gears are meshed on parallel planes and set in motion by a handle
that needs to be turned once a day. These are linked through a kind of toothed
turntable that acts as a differential gear train, permitting two shafts to
rotate at different speeds. The gears are designed so that they may be turned
and mechanize the cyclical relation of the sun, moon, planets and stars, which,
to some extent, move at different rates but must be synchronized. Using such cycles, Graydon explains he
designed the gearing that would operate from one dial having a wheel that
revolved annually, and turn by this gearing a series of other wheels which move
pointers indicating the sidereal, synodic and draconitic months, and in turn
other gears to represent planetary phenomena and movement.
Throughout the design are worked images relating to the Cosmic
Balance and its pantheon, the Horseclans, the Campfire Girlz, the Ulminbore,
and even the Dwarves and Grelgs, and images depicting their struggles and
co-operation, and humorous episodes.
Aethelu, Ksenia, Odo, Fwalin, Cleetus, and even Smoovie are depicted in
heroic episodes.
Graydon
gives demonstrations of the devices purpose, asking people to call out a date
and then calculating the rising of certain constellations, the sun, the phase
of the moon and any number of other calendaric phenomenon. When he finishes,
there is surprising applause from those in attendance, impressed with the sheer
engineering feat.
That
left just one contestant left. Swotti mounted the stage, his chest swelled and
his hands shaking in anticipation. Following him was Eenie, the fifteen foot
monstrosity with four arms. Using his rag, Swotti continued to rub and buff
Eenie, though how he could hope to rise any more of a polish or shine in the
gleaming contraption was anyone’s guess. As Swotti buffed the metal, he made a cooing
sound, almost like a father to a child, but that image sent waves of disgust
through most of the audience, as the thought of a goblin being a father to
anything other than...well...another goblin was perverse and twisted. Swotti
patted Eenie’s cheek and whispered in his ear. Then he turned to his audience.
“Dis
here’s wot called a Dred. It’s a purfect blend o’ metal an’ magic, an’ it has
one purpose—ta break things. Dem fists can punch through walls, an’ it cin pick
up big stones an’ throw ‘em far. Eenie, show dem judges wot for. Show ‘em why
as dey should vote fer us.’
With
a maniacal gleam in his eye, Eenie stomps out into the circle and picks up one
of the huge boulders with his pincer arm. Then, turning toward the greatest
concentration of spectators, he hauls the arm back and slings it forward,
sending the boulder hurtling toward the audience. At first there are some oohs
and aahs, as the boulder flies through the air, and then realisation dawns
amongst the targets and screaming breaks out. A mad scramble is made, with
people trying to get out of the way of the deadly projectile, but a few
unfortunates are not quick enough and end up crushed under the huge stone.
Swotti
leaps up onto Eenie’s back, crowing with excitement. “Yes, my baby! Shine, my
baby! My baby, ooohhh, my baby! That’s papa’s baby, yaz it is, wuz he a good
baby? Yaz, he’s as wot’s good in all a’ us!” His diatribe continued as the
screams in the audience grew louder. As the screams grew louder, Eenie seemed
to take that as encouragement, bringing up his ballista arm and aiming it
across the circle of banners. With a bloodthirsty scream, he released the
projectile, scattering witnesses and impaling a few.
The
blood seemed to encourage Eenie and, with another bloodthirsty yell, he started
stomping toward the spectators. Guards ran from all directions, putting
themselves between the audience and the rampaging metal monster. Various judges
and officials were screaming at Swotti, telling him to control the beast and to
stop the killing at once. Eenie appeared to take exception to this and reached
down with the pincer arm, attempting to grab one of the judges. The judge was
able to scurry out of the way but, seeing as how Eenie was still coming after
him, he chose that time to run screaming from the fracas. Rage contorted
Eenie’s face and he raced after the judge, pincer arm snapping with deadly
menace. The Grelgs in the audience started to get caught up in the mayhem, and
they began to scream and holler as well. Some picked up stones and hurled them
at passers-by, and the others seemed ready to riot.
Suddenly,
a deafening voice boomed out over the field. “That is ENOUGH!!!” Up on the
stage, the figure of Tandilus stood twenty feet tall, and his visage was
terrible to behold. His eyes crackled with energy, and his face was twisted in
anger. Lifting his staff, a ball of energy coalesced around the head, and he
brought the end down, hard, into the ground. A slight tremble rocked the
assembly, and most eyes turned toward the fearsome figure dominating the
grounds. At the same time the staff hit the ground, the ball of energy became
blindingly luminescent, and then a bolt of power erupted from the brilliance at
the top of the staff.
The
bolt hit Eenie, cascading over the Dred as if water poured over a glass dome.
All at once, the machine stopped. The arms fell to its sides and the legs froze
where they were. Unfortunately, one leg was in the air, causing the hulking
mound of metal to totter precariously, and then fall over, face first, into a pit
of mud on the obstacle course. There was a moment of silence, and then all of
the Grelgs started laughing, side splitting laughter, that left them wheezing
and rolling on the ground. The only Grelgs not laughing were Swotti, who was
now next to Eenie, crooning to the psychopath like an overprotective mother,
and Eenie, who was screaming for the blood of whomever did this to him.
With
the excitement now over, Tandilus returned to his normal size, but his face was
still stormy. He stalked over to Eenie and Swotti and planted his fists on his
hips. “Usually, these sorts of events are bloodless ones. If you can’t control
your pets, they just won’t be allowed to play with all the others. You wouldn’t
want that now, would you?”
Swotti
leapt to his feet, matching the mage stare for stare. “We wuz jest showin’ th’
people wot ol’ Eenie cud do. Wivout a demonstration, yaz won’t know wot
specialties a Dred wot has. Can we help it if some uv ‘em couldn’t git outta
th’ way? That’s not our fault, now, is it?” Now Swotti’s face was the
very picture of innocence—or, at least a goblin’s idea of what innocence was
supposed to look like, which wasn’t very—and he smiled a sickeningly
ingratiating smile up at Tandilus. “But yaz cin all see how ‘fective Eenie wuz,
and how deserving we wuz in gettin’ this prize. So th’ judges cin skip th’
whole judgin’ part an’ jus’ give us our prize now.” Another toothy grin from
Swotti made the other participants, and the judges in particular, rather queasy.
Alran
now took the stage, holding out his hands in a placating manner. “Our apologies
for the disruption, ladies and gentlemen. The judges will now retire to
consider the entries. As a penalty for the carnage, the Grelgs’ entry will be
docked points for the mayhem caused. I...”
A
small explosion of sound erupted from the Grelgs. Swotti and Smoovie both ran
to the front, both yelling. “I tol’ yaz, we wuz jus’ demonstratin’,”
Swottie yelled at the same time Smoovie screamed, “Cheat! Cheat! Cheat! It’s
bias, I tells yaz, bias and discriminatin’ ‘gainst us! Yaz knows we’re goin’ ta
win!”
The
head official spoke right over their protests. “It’s that or you get
disqualified altogether. The judges feel your entry does deserve some
consideration, but a fracas like this can’t go unpunished. So take your pick.
Penalty or disqualification?”
“We
had this one won, an’ yaz couldn’t allow that, so’s yaz had ta cheat,” grumbled
Smoovie. “It’s a conspiracy, wot like it is every year. Yaz’re scared o’
us’s wot it is.” But the Grelgs left the field, muttering and complaining the
whole way.
A
great deal of screaming was still coming from the field, as a group of guards
and other officials wrestled with the inert Eenie, dragging his face through
the mud, causing even more screams and threats. Finally, Tandilus sighed, shook
his head, and waved his staff at the prone hunk of metal. There was a slight
sucking sound as the frame was lifted out of the mud, and then it floated
across the grounds to the Grelgs’ camp, where it was deposited on its back. The
mage informed the Grelgs that the anti-magic spell would be lifted when the
Grelgs returned home.
A
short break was called as the judges made their determinations for the contest.
Alran asked that the Obstacle Course contestants make themselves ready, as the
Course would be run right after the winners were announced. The entrants to the
Obstacle Course began to warm up and, fifteen minutes later, the judges
appeared with their decisions, and three laurels for the winners. The third
place laurel went to Va’Id of the Campfire Girlz. The second place laurel went
to Kandark Vulgara of the Dark Phoenix. In first place, the winning laurel went
to Graydon of the Horseclans of Ageria, for his wondrous Antikythera Computational Device. Guards had
to be brought in to escort Swotti from the arena, screaming and spitting about
the bias, discrimination and general cheating happening at the Games.
The Obstacle Course
The
chime that rang in the noon hour rang once more, its tone cutting across the
compound and calling attention to the circle, where the Obstacle Course was to
be run. With the next chime, the officials called those contestants
participating in the Obstacle Course to make their way to the Course itself.
Six empires made entries into the Obstacle Course, and those individuals now
made their way to the circle. The first to step onto the field of endeavour is
Akemi of the Campfire Girlz, dressed in calf high boots, skin hugging trousers
that come to mid thigh, and a loose, comfortable top. Next is Blaid Syrire of
the Dark Phoenix, a young dark elf dressed in a light trousers and tunic.
Following her is Gog of the Legions of Light, tall and commanding, as is only
right for a giant, and his accoutrement, too, was light and flexible. Marfisa
of the Horseclans came next, outfitted in leather armour and carrying a sword.
The Hart Clan’s representative, Layman Rhinehart, walks tall and proud into the
arena, his strides strong and purposeful. Bringing up the rear, but by no means
any less impressive, is Mraag of the Xaati, the impressive, black carapaced
warrior bug who drew so many eyes when the Xaati first made their appearance.
He neither looked left or right, simply made his way to the small stage, where
the other contestants stood.
Alran
called for everyone’s attention. “This is the Obstacle Course, where you, the
contestants, will be running a race. It is one of endurance and agility. The
run itself is several kilometers, but what makes this an interesting race is
the obstacles placed in your way. It is your task to make your way through,
under, over or around these obstacles. Just a few points. First, we are looking
for style as well as speed. You can choose to go around every single obstacle,
but you will lose a great many points if you choose this option. The sense of
flair and ability you show in overcoming these obstacles will count just as
much as actually overcoming them. Second, this is a race against the clock, the
course and each other—but this does not mean that you are allowed to interfere
with any of the other competitors. I understand that there may be some
jostling, but if any of you go beyond that—if you actually try to interfere,
attack or injure another participant, you will be disqualified from the
competition. Lastly, there will be some magical obstacles, provided by
Tandilus, that can appear anywhere, anytime. Please keep your eyes and ears
open, so as to avoid injury. Now. The Course.”
An
explanation of the course is given. It starts with a run around the perimeter of
the circle. There is a sprint of 200 meters, after which there is a field of
boulders the contestants will have to climb over. Another 50 meter sprint is
followed by a rope swing, with three different ropes, over a pit ten feet deep
and twenty feet long. A 100 meter sprint comes next, and then a 100 meter dash
through deep sand. The second 200 meter ensues, which leads to the crawl
spaces—and these are mandatory. The competitors cannot go around these, they
must go under them. Another 100 meter sprint and then come the mud pits. At
this point in the run, around three quarters the way around the Circle, the
course goes outside the circle, where the participants will run around the
Competition Circle—a one and a half kilometre run. There are areas with treacherous
footing, like holes, large rocks and other complications, and at least one of
the magical obstacles will be on this part of the course.
The
runners enter the Competition Circle where they left it, and continue around
toward the starting point. 75 meters after re-entering are three walls, each
taller than the previous wall before it. An additional 75 meter run is
proceeded by a balance beam 20 meters long. The final obstacle, a parallel set
of rope squares the competitors must run through, is preceded by 100 meter
sprints. Finally, there is a 200 meter sprint to the finish.
The
competitors lined up at the starting line and were told that the next chime
would signal the start of the race. All of the participants concentrated,
waiting for the chime that would start this event. Across Lorasia, the world
held its breath, anticipating the start of the first physical competition of
the Games. And then the chime rang out.
With
a surge, the contestants raced forward. Layman Rhinehart took an early lead, sprinting
full bore toward the first obstacle. Mraag, running on four legs, took second,
followed by Gog, Blaid, Akemi and Marfisa. They stayed in that order as they
approached the boulders, and then they hit the first obstacle. Layman Rhinehart
leapt onto the boulders but immediately had problems finding decent hand holds.
Mraag had few problems, using his four legs and two arms to traverse the
boulders easily. Gog, too, had little problems with the boulders, grabbing them
in his huge hands and pulling himself up and over. Akemi and Blaid hit the
stones with equal fervour, using their athletic training to take them up and
over, flipping and leaping with gentle ease. Marfisa, too, scrambled up the
boulders, not quite as graceful as the two other women, but surmounting the
pile of rocks easily.
Coming
out of the boulders into the next 100 meter sprint, the ranking was Mraag,
Akemi, Blaid, Gog, Marfisa and Layman Rhinehart. The order stayed the same,
with Mraag gaining a small amount of ground, as they came up on the rope swing.
Mraag hit the rope running, his four legs churning the ground, but he made no
attempt at swinging over the pit. Rather, he grabbed the rope and just kept
running, snapping the hemp with no thought—and no slowing down. Akemi, however,
was a picture of grace. She dove for the rope and, catching it, swung
skillfully over the pit. As the rope hit its apogee, she let go, tucking into a
back flip and landing on her feet, continuing her run. Blaid made a similar
manoeuvre, swinging and ending the swing with an acrobatic flair. Gog and
Marfisa were next, and each did what they had to to make it through the
obstacle—that is, to swing over and land on the opposite side. Layman
Rhinehart, just on the heels of Gog and Marfisa, chose a similar tactic.
The
next obstacle, the sand pit, was a bit trickier. Mraag maintained his pace,
using his four legs to churn through the sand, though even his strength was
tested in the giving terrain. Akemi, Blaid, Marfisa and Layman Rhinehart had
even more problems, their legs churning to get them through, but the sand
proving to be a difficult obstruction. Only Gog seemed untroubled, his huge
legs pumping and churning through the sand. Coming out of the sand pit, Mraag
had gained some ground, as had Gog, who was now a bit ahead of the three women.
Layman Rhinehart ran on, his head held high as he made his way through the
course.
The
following obstacle proved to be a difficult one for the two larger contestants.
Both Mraag and Gog reached the crawl space ahead of the other contestants, but
their large size was a detriment in this particular obstacle. Squeezing their
bodies as flat as possible, they wriggled and squirmed their way through the
small spaces. The humans, however, had far less problems, and Akemi in particular
dove into the hole, using her momentum to gain on the two larger opponents. A
series of grunts and yells came from within the crawl space and, when the
competitors emerged, Akemi and Gog both had scrapes and cuts on their bodies.
Each gave dirty looks at Mraag, who ignored them and continued on his way. The
order, however, had changed. Akemi was now out front, but not by much. She was
pursued by Mraag who was, in turn, followed by Marfisa, Blaid, Gog and Layman
Rhinehart.
The
mud pit was the subsequent obstacle and, like the sand pit, this favoured the
larger participants. The mud itself came up to about thigh height on the
humans, somewhat lower on the giant and the Xaati, but it nevertheless made
footing treacherous. Akemi and Blaid used their acrobatic skills to navigate
the first part of the pit. Akemi ran and sprang forward, spreading her arms and
then tucking into a forward flip, landing on her feet. There were some shouts
of encouragement and lewd suggestions from the Campfire Girlz, seeing Akemi now
covered in mud, but she was not to be distracted. Blaid went for a simpler
approach, using the run up to the pit to launch herself into a long leap,
covering nearly two thirds of the pit. The lewd shouts met her landing as well.
Once landed, however, both Akemi and Blaid struggled to fight their way out of
the mud. Mraag and Gog once again slogged through, using their size and
strength to their advantage.
The
order of the contestants had changed once again. Mraag had retaken the lead,
with Akemi keeping second, but now Gog edged Blaid for third, followed by
Marfisa and Layman Rhinehart. Coming up the point where the course ran outside
the circle, both Mraag and Akemi trip and fall, as if they had stumbled over a
root or some other obstacle. Gog surged into the lead, followed closely by
Blaid, but Mraag is up on his feet and running once more, and Akemi is not too
far behind—but she is now closely pursued by Marfisa. Layman Rhinehart looks as
if he is struggling, but he doggedly keeps his feet moving.
In Amongst the Spectators
Those
watching the race are enthralled by the competition, seeing the leaders change
places, oohing and aahing at the acrobatics of Blaid and Akemi, murmuring their
awe at the prodigious strength of the giant and the Xaati, admiring the courage
of Marfisa and Layman Rhinehart. Everyone, that is, except the Grelgs. As the
race continues, they start to jeer the contestants and then, as they racers
reach the crawl space, a few begin to huddle and whisper, which, for any sane
empire or race, would make them extremely nervous.
Just
as the runners reach the mud pits, the few huddlers break up and seem to be
trying to hold in their laughter. The other Grelgs start pestering them but
they just stand there, trying to hold a straight face. When the Xaati and the
Campfire Girl trip and fall, all the Grelgs fall down in a fit of howling
laughter. At the same time, Tandilus’ head snaps up, and his eyes dart around,
falling at last on the howling Grelgs. Marching over to the Grelgs, he demands
to know who cast a spell.
The
goblins give wide eyed, innocent looks, which only makes them look that much
more guilty. Smoovie raises his hands, and invites Tandilus to cast whatever
spell he wants on the Grelgs. “Wasn’t us, Tandy. Weez likes wot it did, no mistake,
but weez innocent. As weez always is.”
Tandilus
scowls at the goblins, and then his staff starts to glow, infused with magical
energy. Inscribing runes and other arcane symbols in the air, particularly
around the Grelgs, his scowl deepens. After a moment, he consults with Alran,
pointing at the Grelgs and shaking his head. The two talk for another minute,
and then Tandilus nods and walks away. His staff glows once more, and he first
walks around the spectators, and then around the circle, inscribing his runes
and arcane symbols in the air. The Grelgs seem to think this is the funniest
thing since—well—Eenie fell in the mud.
Back on the Course
With
the kilometre and a half run ahead of them, the competitors settled down into a
steady rhythm now. Those of hardier constitutions, like Gog and Mraag, seemed
to fair a bit better than the other contestants, who weren’t necessarily built
for long distance running. Mraag regained the lead, followed closely by Gog,
then Blaid and Akemi, jostling for position, and Marfisa and Layman Rhinehart,
struggling ever onward. Approaching the area of treacherous footing, Mraag
continued using his four feet to maintain stable footing. He entered the
obstacle with assured confidence, but even he was forced to slow, as the footing
became more and more dangerous. Sharp rocks, large holes, and, as the
contestants made their way through, ice, of all things. The ice proved
difficult for Mraag, Gog, Marfisa and Layman Rhinehart, but Akemi and Blaid
took in stride, using long, skating motions to make their way through the
obstacle. As they exited, Mraag still maintained first place, but Gog had been
overtaken by Akemi, followed by Blaid and, close on her heels, Marfisa. Layman
Rhinehart was some ways behind now, all thought of winning gone from his head,
hoping now just to complete the course.
The
first magical obstacle presented itself between the treacherous footing and the
hill of scree, and this obstacle was magical jets of flame, horizontal to the
ground and at differing heights. Mraag chose to deal with this obstacle by
ignoring it. He continued his pace, simply letting the fire bounce off his
thick carapace. Blaid did a rolling dive over the first and then fell quickly
to her back as the second jet erupted, kipping up to her feet and running in a
low crouch. She rolled and leapt the ensuing flames. Akemi used twisting flips,
her torso parallel to the ground and her feet spinning spread apart, forcing
her body to spin as well. It soon became apparent that there was a pattern to the
flames, and it wasn’t too long before the other contestants figured the pattern
out, waiting for the jets to fire and then running past them.
The
next set of magical obstacles made their appearance shortly before the spot where
the competitors re-entered the Circle. These obstacles were three magical hoops
or rings, hanging in the air, each higher than the other. The first one was
about knee height, the second around waist height and the third about chest
height. 10 meters separated each ring. Mraag made to deal with these in the
same way he dealt with the jets of flame, and that was to run straight through
them. When he did so, however, he bounced back as if he hit a wall. Akemi
passed Mraag and dove through the first ring, passing through it with no
problems. She did the same with the last two hoops and came out in the lead.
Blaid simply hurdled the first two hoops and then flipped through the last one.
Seeing what he had to do, Mraag rose up on two legs and slipped through the
rings, using his upper legs to catch him as he exited the rings, looking
somewhat like a caterpillar. Gog jumped through the hoops, as did Marfisa and
Layman Rhinehart.
Now
the long run was beginning to take its toll, particularly on the two front runners,
Akemi and Blaid. Against each other, they seemed to fair rather equally, but
Mraag made up ground as they entered the Circle. A short distance away, the
three walls stood, looming. Mraag bore down on the two women and drew equal
with them nearing the walls. Rising up on two legs, Mraag used his height to
simply pull himself up and then, using his rear legs, crawl right over the
first wall. The same technique was used on the next two walls and the Xaati
champion was out in front once again. Akemi leapt up the first wall, hands
grasping the top and then vaulted over the top. Performing a couple of
handsprings, she catapulted herself to the top of the second, landing on her
feet and leaping down. For the third, she simply ran straight up the wall,
catching the top and pulling herself over. Her actions were not without their
consequences, however, as her chest was heaving when she came over the last
wall.
Blaid,
too, was feeling the effects of the run, so that she simply used the run and
leap tactic, catching the top of the wall and vaulting over. Marfisa leapt up
the walls as well, the simple tactic seeming the easiest and least taxing to
get over the obstacles. Gog simply pulled himself up and over and Layman
Rhinehart, labouring heroically, jumped and struggled to gain purchase, taking
two attempts on the last wall.
The
race was now between two contestants, Mraag of the Xaati and Akemi of the
Campfire Girlz. Mraag has the lead and seemed to be the stronger of the two,
yet Akemi was more graceful and surmounted the obstacles with more flair and
panache. The balance beam spanned a
large pit, devastating if one of the competitors fell, for they would then have
to climb out of that pit. Mraag hit the beam with surprising agility for a bug
so large. Up once more on two legs, he traversed the beam using his other
appendages to give him balance. Akemi, on the other hand, attacked the beam
with a front walkover, reversing the manoeuvre so that she did back handsprings
across the beam, dismounting with a flip and a twist, hitting the ground
running. Blaid ran across the beam without slowing, her steps graceful, like
those of a dancer. All of the other participants ran across the beam, some
slowly, like Layman Rhinehart and Gog, others quicker, like Marfisa.
And
so the last obstacle approached. Mraag was still in the lead, but Akemi was
right on his tail. Covering the ground before the last obstacle on four legs,
he rose one last time on two legs to attack the rope squares. Moving with
perfect precision, Mraag threaded the squares perfectly, his feet moving so
quickly that it was difficult to see them. He made it through with no
difficulty and hit the last 200 meters running hard, his arms pumping, his four
legs churning. Akemi attacked the squares with the same speed and
determination, her legs moving nearly as fast as Mraag’s, and she, too, hit the
last 200 meter stretch with her legs pumping, her head down, her arms driving.
The question was, could Akemi catch the Xaati? In the end, the answer was no.
The Xaati was too strong and his legs gave him an advantage over the tired
human. Mraag was the first to cross the finish line, a good 5 meters ahead of
Akemi.
The
battle for third, between Blaid and Marfisa, was a closer affair. Blaid hit the
squares at full speed, as did Marfisa, both running side by side, both chests
heaving with the effort. Dark Phoenix and Horseclan ran neck in neck, neither
able to get ahead of the other, neither allowing herself to fall behind her
opponent. The crowd rose to its feet and a huge cheer went up from the banners
as the two neared the finish line and, as they crossed, no one wanted to be the
person to try and decide who won that last foot race.
Gog
made the last obstacle and got through it, though he did slow down to make sure
he didn’t trip. His huge legs rose and fell, rose and fell, and when he crossed
the finish line, a smile was on his face. Last but certainly not least, Layman
Rhinehart lifted weary legs, one after the other, each seeming like lead, but
sheer will made him lift the legs again, and again. When he finally did cross
the finish line, a huge cheer went up from those attending and, indeed, those
watching the competition. The sheer tenacity of his performance won him praise
and admiration from all those in attendance and, indeed, even from some of his
opponents.
So
it was that the order of finish was determined: Mraag, Akemi, Blaid and
Marfisa, Gog and Layman Rhinehart. Now it was up to the judges to determine
what effect the technique of each performer played on the competition, for
there were varying styles, some clearly going for the more dramatic while
others opted for simply finishing the course. The judges came out, again
holding three laurels. The third place finisher was announced as Blaid, for,
although the finish between Blaid and Marfisa was a tie, Blaid won third on the
merit of her technique. Second place went to Mraag who, while finishing first,
did not have many points in technique and who was penalised for interfering
with Akemi and Gog in the crawl space. Cheers and adulation went up around
Lorasia for the winners.
Performance
The
excitement of the thrilling race had people in a jovial mood, and much laughing
and joking went on. Evening started to fall and, as it did, the smell of
cooking food wafted throughout the encampments. Around Lorasia, the spectators
took advantage of the time to purchase their own comestibles, find a
comfortable spot and sit back and enjoy the evening. In the valley, a stage was
erected in the middle of the Competition Circle, in preparation for the
Performance contest.
Once
the stage was completed, the different competing empires took their places
around the stage. All the empires brought food, but the Grelgs were conspicuous
in their choice of foodstuffs, which included mounds of rotten fruit, mushy
tomatoes, and other questionable items of produce. While there was some doubt
as to the purpose of said produce, the fact that the Grelgs were munching on
the food as they entered (causing more than one person to run off to the latrine)
gave the guards no choice but to allow them to enter with their “food.” Once
everyone settled down, torches were lit around the Circle and around the stage.
Then the first performer took the stage.
Up
to the stage came Elron Hoofer, Mayor Eavylyn of Ulmindale and Deacon Donp
Reston, of Klan Ulminbore, along with a full choir. After taking a short time
to arrange themselves and set up their instruments, Elron moves to the front of
the stage, a loopy, goofy smile on his face. “This little gospel number is a
ditty we call...the ‘Black Ka’kt Woes. We hope you like it.’
Deacon
Donp sat at the keyboard and rostrum and begins the song with a nifty little
keyboard work, after which Elron, Eavylyn and the choir begin their number.
Elron Well it reigns
unoppose’
An’ the lan’ turn dark an’ soft.
Well it reigns unoppose’
An’ the lan’ turn dark an’ soft.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Eavylyn Bad
troubles takin’ place
South of the Borial
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Elron Woke up this
mornin’
Can’t even get out our door.
Woke up this mornin’
Can’t even get out our door.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Eavylyn That’s enough
trouble
T’make a poor Gel wonder where she wanna go.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Elron If’n they row a
li’l boat
’bout five months ’cross the pond.
If’n they row a li’l boat
’bout five months ’cross the pond.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Eavylyn I pack up all my
t’ings
T’row ‘em in an’ they might row me ashore.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Elron Well, it Suck-up
an’ it Suck-down
An’ the worl’ begin to melt.
Well, it Suck-up an’ it Suck-down
An’ the worl’ begin to melt.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Eavylyn There’s thousands
o’ people
Ain’t got no place to go.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Elron So us went an’
stood up
On some high ol’ lonesome hill.
So us went an’ stood up
On some high ol’ lonesome hill.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Eavylyn An’ us look down on
The isle where we used t’live.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Elron Black K’akt
woes done caused us
T’pack all us things an’ go.
Black K’akt woes done caused us
T’pack all us things an’ go.
Chorus Woh-oh-Oh-oh-Oh-ohhhhhh
Eavylyn ‘Cause our worl’
fell down
an’ we can’t live there no more.
All MMmmm-mmMM – Us can’t move no more
MMmmm-mmMM – Us can’t move no more
Ain’t no place for us poor ol’ folks t’go.
A
cheer went up when the choir finished, although the response was somewhat
subdued, perhaps because of the subject matter. The next performers to take the
stage are Aethelu and Taliensin. There is much cheering, particularly from
those who attended the wedding last night. Aethelu walks to the front of the
stage and smiles when catcalls rise from the audience, particularly from the
Grelgs, who shout and scream and yell as if it were one of their own on the
stage. The noise is so great it’s even a little distracting. “Thank you, one
and all. We will performing a love duet that we composed. This is a sonnet
entitled ‘Wildflowers (A Pair of Intertwined Sonnets)’. Enjoy.”
Taliensin
starts the song, and looks into Aethelu’s eyes as he performs. His voice is
rich and full, carrying to all points in the valley, and those touched by his
voice feel it throughout their body, if for no other reason than the depth of
emotion he very clearly feels.
“She is the wild dandelion of the plain,
Free riding sweet breezes ‘cross verdant vale,
Her will, so strong, so clear, and yet so frail,
Her innocence, my heart and soul, sustain.”
Aethelu
returns the stare and smiles hesitantly. She then responds, her voice equally
as strong, her love equally as deep.
“He is Goldenrod, his love my heart stings,
I long to be near him, my path wanders far,
Ever closer, ever distant, my guide star,
I seek his strength, his tenderness, to cling.”
Seeing
her smile, Taliensin responds with a smile of his own, and it lights up his
already handsome face. His next verse is clear and strong.
“She is a bold sunflower, with auburn mane,
Her spirit blooms bright, always to prevail,
‘Oer any hardship; her spirit does not fail,
Nor does the sunflower in its beauty wane.”
Aethelu
bravely raises her voice once more, and none in attendance aren’t touched by
the effect this song is having on the two of them.
“He is the sage of my heart, his wisdom sings
A song deep and rich, like the ancient shofar
That captures my soul, and heals many a scar
His voice, my vigor, to my ear clearly rings.”
Now
both Taliensin and Aethelu join their voices together, and each sing their final
verse in counterpoint to one another. Their voices blend perfectly, each
complementing the other, and the sound brings chills to those who hear it.
“She is the Wintersong. Listen to her voice.
It is as pure and free as any wildflower
That grows upon the eternal endless plain.
It is crisp like fresh flowery fruit, rejoice,
It speaks, a thundering avalanche, daughter
Of the plain, a gentle breeze, my counterpart.”
Aethelu
grabs Taliensin’s hand and her voice almost, but not quite, breaks as she sings
her final verse.
“He is now my wildflower, my new song;
I am no more the forgotten child of fate.
Like the wildflower he seeks the plain,
Without reservation, to dwell lifelong.
No more will I fill my heart with hate
And no more will I find my heart in pain.”
Taliensin’s
eyes are closed, lost in the rapture of the music, holding that last note, with
the bittersweet knowledge that, for now, the song is over. His eyes pop open,
however, when Aethelu, choking back tears of joy, adds one more line.
“Taliensin
is my destiny, and I embrace him with all my heart.”
Her
song now finished, she throws herself into a surprised Taliensin’s arms. They
both kiss and walk off the stage, holding hands. The crowd’s reaction is
instantaneous and somewhat muted, as if scared their applause will ruin the
moment the two of them have forged together, and shared with the world.
A
collective gasp was heard when it was discovered that the Xaati were next. The
name of the Xaati to speak was announced as Avatar Hogo. This turned out to be
the impressive bug people saw when the Xaati arrived, the one with the
seemingly shaped and sculpted carapace. The head is held proudly, multi-faceted
eyes catch and hold the attention of any foolish enough to meet his gaze.
Raising four of his arms for silence, Avatar Hogo clacks his mandibles, the dry
sound of breaking bones, as it finally becomes clear what the whole nk nk nk
thing is about.
“nk nk nk
“words, insubstantial are
“deeds, forgotten are
“only death, forever is
“so this we offer now in praise of Ya’Zii”
So
saying, he gestures to one side of the stage, at which sign a Xaati scuttles
up. Smaller than the Xaati, at only 10 feet, it moves to kneel before Hogo.
“my life, given me by Ya’Zii
“my life, I now offer now in praise of Ya’Zii”
A
moment’s silence, the tableaux frozen, before Hogo brings a mandible flashing
down to sever the Xaati’s head, catching it in his arms before it falls. As the
body collapses, Priests Raidon and Taro move forwards from the back of the
stage to drag it away, whilst Hogo, lifting the head high, clacks his
mandibles.
“lived in service of Ya’Zii, his life was
“given in service of Ya’Zii, his life was
“lived with honour, his life was”
So
saying, Hogo crushes the head, allowing the blood and gooey bits to drain into
his opened mouth, before swallowing the rest.
Guards
are on instant alert and the crowd is visibly nervous. The scene of brutality
is severe, and no one is sure what the Xaati’s next move will be. Will he turn
on other life forms, sacrificing them for the good of Ya’Zii? Would their lives
now be given in service to Ya’Zii? No notice of this is taken on stage, as
another Xaati is ushered up, and the ritual is repeated. When it is discovered
that the Xaati only intend to kill their own, the crowd relaxes, and is
mesmerised by the sheer savageness of the ritual.
Finally,
when fifty Xaati have been finished off, Hogo moves to the front of the blood
and gore-soaked stage, carapace stained red.
“not one Xaati lives, who would not give their life in praise of Ya’Zii
“not one Xaati dies, who does not die in service of Ya’Zii
“so will all peoples and lands, bow before Ya’Zii will
“else all peoples and lands, perish before Ya’Zii will
“all hail Ya’Zii
“nk nk nk”
And,
so saying, in silence Hogo glides from the stage. The crowd itself is silent
when the Xaati leave the stage, and there is one question on everyone’s
mind—who will dare to go next? And in the next instant, it is clear who will go
next, for the Grelgs all start cheering the Xaati performance, whistling and
shouting, yelling and cavorting. Then a chant starts in the Grelg camp: Smoo-vie!
Smoo-vie! Smoo-vie! Sure enough, the next person on stage—and it may just
be that the organisers of the Games are scared a riot will ensue if Smoovie
isn’t the next performer—is Smoovie Grelg, who walks onstage and strikes a
pose. His fists on his hips, he turns his head to his left, the audience’s
right, and looks up in the air with a fatuous smile on his face.
He
holds that pose for a full minute while the cheers continue with wild abandon,
and then he lowers his head, looking out at the audience. With an insouciant
eyebrow waggle, he smiles even bigger, showing off yellow, crooked teeth to
good effect. “Now that wuz a show!” said Smoovie. “Course, we
wanted ta do somfin like that last year but we weren’t ‘llowed ta do it, cuz
them cheaty judges knew we’d win! Now. Yaz wanna hear some real good
poems?” There was a loud shout from the Grelg’s camp, and even from some not in
the Grelg’s camp. “I can’t heeeaaaaarrrrrr yaz!” A huge roar erupts from
the audience all over Lorasia. Smoovie nods and strikes his pose once more.
“Shall I compare
Yaz to a Summers Day?
Cos Yaz Green and
Smelly,
And I wudent wont
yaz enny other way,
than crawling on yaz belly.”
Another
raucous cheer goes up as Smoovie takes a grand bow, turning and waving to each
and every one of the banners. Then he faces the main audience in the Circle
once again. “Thank yaz, thank yaz. Now, I wuz savin’ one for a tiebreak, but
we’re gonna win—or be cheated—so...yaz wanna hear it now?” Once again,
boisterous applause erupts from the audience. Smoovie strikes his pose and
lifts his hand skyward.
“Tandilus iz a cheaty old poo,
Who stops the Grelgs from winning,
But we will anyway,
There
is a brief moment of silence whilst the audience digests the poem, and one of
the Grelgs shouts to the stage. “Hey! That doesn’t rhyme good!” Smoovie is
suddenly pelted with a barrage of rotten fruit, mushy tomatoes and any other
foetid produce that comes to hand. At the same time, many cheers go up from the
Grelgs, and a chant of “Weer ded good.” is started.
The
chant is silenced, however, when Tandilus comes to the stage. Looking over the
gore and rotten vegetables, he wrinkles his nose and waves his staff. The stage
is enveloped in a wash of light and, when it vanishes, the stage is clean once
more—although Smoovie isn’t. Which doesn’t seem to bother him very much. After
Tandilus retreats, some of the Grelgs huddle together, whispering and pointing
to different people in the crowd. Most of them are nervous. Most of those
around the Grelgs expect something to happen but, after a minute, nothing does,
so it’s on to the next performance.
On
to the stage now comes Joxar of the Campfire Girlz. He is dressed in a very
fetching Anne Summers outfit borrowed from Ksenia’s saddlebags. When he starts
to sing, it is with more enthusiasm than bardic talent, and it is a voice that,
truly, only a mother could love. But as for enthusiasm, there is plenty of it,
and he’s not afraid to use it. Before each stanza, he shouts out the title and
then launches into the song.
Transvestite Stanza
He's Joxar the Mighty
He's wearing Ksenia's nightie
Though the fit is kind of tight-y;
He's a Lady (in his
dreams)
But nothing there is what it seems-
For Joxar, Joxar the Mighty
(Mighty queer, that is)
Nudity Stanza
He's Joxar the Mighty
He gave Gaby such a fright-y,
He was naked - she went white-y;
He thought he had a hunch
But his manly figure lacked the punch
Oh Joxar, Joxar the Mighty
(Mighty small, that is)
Campfire Boyz Stanza
He's Joxar the Mighty
He makes noises in the night-y
He snores so loud, it's no delight-y;
His bedtime sounds, they wake the dead
But he remains asleep and abed
Yes he's Joxar, Joxar the Mighty
(Mighty lazy, that is)
Whoop-ass Stanza
He’s Joxar the Mighty
He’s not too proud to
fight-y
He’ll put the Xaati to
flight-y
With frying pan and
chamber-pot
They’ll die laughing;
he’ll get the lot
At the hands of Joxar the
Mighty
(Mighty feeble, that is)
Underwear Stanza
He's Joxar the Mighty
Goddess, what a sight; Eeee!
He looks far from all
right-y;
He doesn't care for sports
He'd have to show his Joxar Shorts
'Cause he's Joxar, Joxar the Mighty
(Mighty puny, that is)
Thank-God-It’s-The-Last
Stanza
He's Joxar the Mighty
He now says nighty-nighty
And hope the bugs don’t
bite-y;
So he is off to
bed
To rest his tired and puzzled head
A long day for Joxar the Mighty
(Mighty dumb, that is)”
As
soon as he finishes, another barrage of rotten produce hits the stage, pelting
Joxar with a variety of vegetables, fruits and even some meats. There are some
boos mixed in with the cheers, but many figure it is a comment on his choice of
apparel rather than a commentary on his singing. Except for the Grelgs, who say
their boos mean just what boos mean—that the singer was bad.
The next to the last contestant is Gigantica
of the Legions of Light. A relatively young giantess, she is nevertheless well
spoken and possessed of a singular confidence. Her performance, she announces,
is in the form of riddles. Four brain teasers to test the mental acuity of one
and all. A murmur goes through the crowd, for now they must use their brains, a
function perhaps not best suited for this time of night. The first riddle is
thus:
“A farmer has 21 normal pigs: 9 Pink; 7 Brown; 5 Black. How many pigs can
say that they have a partner of the same colour?”
Elron of Ulminbore pipes up, his ever present
loopy grin still on his face. “Why, none of them. Pigs can’t talk!” A groan
goes up from the audience, and then a number of smiles. The second riddle
follows:
“Two men are born on the same day of the year
to the same parents, and yet are not twins. How so?”
There is a pause, and Gigantica looks around,
seeing if anyone has an answer. After twenty seconds, she gives a small grin.
“We’ll come back to that one. Here’s the next.
“A
man was killed by a human sword, but the sword was not man-made. How?”
Gabrielle
answers this one. “That’s too easy. It’s woman-made.”
Gigantica
nods and proceeds with the final riddle.
“A
man rode into a town on Monday, stayed for two days and yet it was Friday when
he left. How so?”
Aethelu
speaks up. “His horse was named Monday.”
The
giantess smiles and spreads her hands. “Is there an answer for my second
riddle?” She looks into the audience. “No? It’s so very simple. They are two of
triplets.”
Another
moan goes up from the crowd, and then a rousing round of applause meets the
giantess as she leaves the stage. And so the final entry into the Performance
category makes his way to the stage—Kamaran Zagora of the Dark Phoenix, last
year’s winner. As he climbs the stairs, the Grelgs start bouncing up and down
and chanting his name. Somewhat taken aback, Kamaran hesitates. Being of Chaos
doesn’t mean being stupid, particularly when it comes to the Grelgs, and so
Kamaran is rightly worried. But, when nothing happens, he takes the stage.
He
looks out at the audience, and when he speaks, his voice is pitched to carry.
“This is a piece I call ‘All’s well that ends well.’ It is my hope
that...that...ah...aaaahhhh...aaaahhhhchoooooo!” Kamaran starts sneezing,
constantly, and can’t seem to stop.
At
the same time, Tandilus snapped his head around and looked over the Grelg’s
heads. He muttered under his breath, and some people swore it was something to
the effect of “I’ve got you know, you slippery snake!” Whatever it was that he
said, his staff glowed and a field of energy not unlike that used against Eenie
surrounded the
“Don’t
know how you did that one, my little green annoyance. But whoever your friend
is, he’s gone now. Won’t be able to play any more of your little tricks. Oh.
I’m most dreadfully sorry, Kamaran. Let me take care of that.” With another
wave of his staff, the sneezing fit that hit Kamaran ceased.
The
Dark Phoenix smiled wanly. “My thanks for your assistance, Tandilus. I’m sure
these people want to get on with the evening. My apologies for the
interruption. As I said previously, this is a piece called ‘All’s well that
ends well.’ It is my hope that it will bring you a little joy.
“To
Our
Cheiftan did prattle
(A
foul man and fickle,
But
mighty and vengeful).
A
horse he did straddle,
With
great-sword and saddle;
And
whilst yawns we stifle,
Preparing to travel
From
loves who stand tearful
(Our
parting regretful),
They
look on, and then tell;
That
“All’s well that end’s well”.
“Thou’ll
all die like cattle!
Some
foul witches cackle,
Whilst
we merely heckle
Their
odourous giggle;
“In
misery revel
Thou
ugly crones spiteful!
Our
thoughts you unravel,
To
sow thine foul drivel.
Thou’ll
not with us trifle,
Or
raise up our hackle!”
We
shout back, to fears quell.
And
“All’s well that end’s well!”
“Our
journey, an amble,
Turned
out uneventful,
For
which we were grateful.
We
camped before nightfall
(The
stories we told tall),
Then
slept unto role-call...
Awoke
to a bell toll,
Most
urgent and dreadful;
To
weapons did scramble,
Hands
eager for handle,
And
belief did tremble
In
“All’s well that end’s well”.
“Long
arrows did pickle
Our
leader, who first fell,
And
soil he did drizzle,
With
life blood so vital.
We
o’er him did trample.
They
cut as with scalpel
Defences
so dismal,
Our
losses abysmal.
We
though it betrayal
That
caused this portrayal.
And
truth did not quite gel
With
“All’s well that end’s well”
“A
hole by my navel,
As
if by a bradawl,
Will
be my sure downfall.
I
food for the Jackal,
The
Crow or the Night Owl.
Through
darkness I fumble,
Past
hot fires that crackle
‘Neath
echos of metal
That
ring as a deathknell.
To
dust I will crumble
Once
past death I stumble.
This
truth with my blood sell;
Not
all’s well, nor ends well...”
A
grand cheer went up, for Kamaran’s piece and for all the entries. After a few
minutes, Alran came up to the stage with the three laurels. The third place
laurel, he said, goes to Kamaran of the Dark Phoenix. The second place laurel
is awarded too Smoovie of the Grelgs. At this announcement, the Grelgs started
cheering and the, realising that they did not take first place, they start to
jeer. And the first place laurel, says Alran, is awarded to Gigantica of the Legions
of Light, for her judge stumping riddles.
And
so it was that the first day of the Lorasia Games came to a close. People made
their way back to their encampments, tired from a day full of contests, and yet
eager for the two big events tomorrow—the Joust and the Gladitorial Games.
The Joust
The
second morning of the Games dawned much like the first, and the activities in
the camps was more of the same. Breakfast was cooked and eaten and contestants
for today’s events each prepared as they saw fit. Workers who toiled through
the night clearing away the obstacle course finished their labours, having set
up the Competition Circle for the Joust. The lists were set up, the banners
were flying, and the only thing missing was…the jousters.
That
changed with the ringing of the noon bell, notification once again that the
Games were beginning. Those performing in the Joust were called to the Circle.
Four empires entered the Joust. The first was Grim ‘n’ Grraug, of the Grelgs, a
lone goblin and his warg. The next was Amarys of the Campfire Girlz. From the
Dark
Since
there are only four contestants, the rules are relatively simple, Alran
explains. There will be two jousts, and the rider who unseats his opponent—and
unseating an opponent means that opponent falls out of the saddle and hits the
ground—will advance to the final. It is single elimination, with only one fall
needed to advance. The same holds true of the final—one fall decides the
winner. The draws have been pre-decided, and the first tourney is Grim vs
Marfisa, with Draconis vs Amarys in the second. Having finished his explanations,
Alran calls Grim and Marfisa to the grounds.
“Scuze
me.” There is a general groan as Smoovie makes his way to the stage, for most
people know what’s coming. “Jus’ a few points as wot should be brought ta yaz’s
attention, ‘bout some things wot we feelz iz cheatin’. First, the hoss iz
wearin’ armour, an’ that’s jus’ unfair. We’z ain’t got no armour fer our poor
mount, poor ol’ poochy, he’ll git clobbered out there wiv all them big, bad,
pony daddies. So I think it’s only fair if dat hoss is disqualified, so’s the
competition iz fair.
“Second,
their pig sticker. It’s jus’ too long and too heavy an’ too gud. It gives ‘em
an unfair advantage in this little competition. This should’ve been entered in
the ‘vention category, cuz if they won, it would be a tainted fight, wot wiv
all their advantages in armour an’ horsey armour and big ol’ pig stickers wot’s
bigger ‘n’ our pig sticker. So, ta make it all ‘ficial an’ everyfin, I’m
lodgin’ a formal complaint, protest, report, an’ any other word that means we
think the Hossladz are cheaty, cheaty, cheeeee—teeeeee!”
Alran
rubs his temples, as if trying to assuage a headache, or at least prevent one
from taking root. “This is a joust, Smoovie,” the head official said. “Horses
are supposed to have armour. The lances are supposed to be like
that. We have checked both the horse and the weapon, and both are fine. Now, if
we can get started, I’d…”
“But every time wez
entered a event, someone complains ‘bout us an’ we git disqualified. It’s discrimination,
‘swot it is. Plain an’ simple. An’ it’s as makes the competition unfair, as I
said. All’s I asks is they be shown the same ‘mount of respect as wot wez get.
So. If yaz jus’ take their names off th’ lists, then we’ll be hunky dory an’ we
cin get on wiv this. I’ll jus’ be…”
“Smoovie.
No. The Horseclan entry is legal and will be allowed to participate. Now if you
don’t sit down, your entry will be penalised or disqualified. So let us
get on with it.”
“We’ll
be disqualified? We’ll be disqualified? That’s…”
“Smoovie.”
“I…”
“Smoovie!”
“You’re…”
“SMOOVIE!!!”
“Geesh,
no need ta yell, Alran. Alright, alright. Some blokes yaz jus’ can’t talk ta.”
Whilst
all of this is going on, Grraug, the warg, padded around the arena, “marking
his territory” by peeing all over the jousting range. He made low growling
noises, particularly when he got close to the mounts of the other jousters. The
horses were, understandably, nervous at the sight of a warg, and their riders
had to spend time calming the horses down. Finally, the two contestants in the
first joust were on the range and facing each other. Marfisa of the Horseclans
was sat atop a charger, in full jousting regalia. Full barding was strapped on,
and Marfisa’s own armour looked specially made, with a bolted helmet, a metal
flange on the left shoulder to guide any lances away from the neck, and a
shield suspended from the left shoulder. Marfisa looked the very model of the
perfect jouster.
Grim
and Grraug, on the other hand, looked very much like what a jouster shouldn’t.
He sat on Grraug, a much smaller mount, in light armour and a small lance.
Grraug was wearing no armour or barding, and the two of them howl together,
setting everyone’s teeth on edge and causing the mounts of the other riders to
become somewhat skittish.
The
two opponents set up on opposite sides of the range, their lances held, their
mounts ready. At the middle of the range, a maiden stood with a kerchief held
aloft. When it was dropped, the joust would begin. The maiden stood stock still,
holding the kerchief up, and then it dropped. With a snarl and a yowl, Grraug
sets off at a run, gaining speed much quicker than a horse. Marfisa sends her
charger rushing toward the other end of the range, her lance lowering to engage
Grim. The horse, however, hearing the growls, yowls and howls of Grraug, did
not keep a straight line and the first pass resulted in no strikes.
The
second run started much like the first, with the same growls coming from
Grraug. Although he was smaller, he did seem to be more agile than the horse,
and used that to his rider’s advantage, dodging out of the way of the enemy
lance. On the third run, Marfisa almost scored a hit, missing the Grelg by
scant centimetres. If the goblin had not leaned all the way, putting his back
against Grraug’s, the tourney would very likely be over.
The
fourth run brought an unexpected surprise. As the two steeds charged toward one
another, their riders levelling their lances, Grraug leaps the barrier, trying to
go for the horse’s throat. Whinnying in fright, the charger rears, striking at
the warg with its hooves. It strikes a glancing blow, not enough to injure
Grraug but enough to knock the warg off his target. There is an explosion of
sound, particularly from the Grelg camp, as they complain that the horse was
trying to hurt Grraug and so should be disqualified.
After
a few minutes, Alran walks onto the stage and announces that the Grelgs are
disqualified for “Unsportsmanlike conduct by rider and mount.” The Grelgs
protest vociferously, saying it is everything from racial discrimination to
cheating by the Horseclans to a conspiracy theory against the Grelgs. There is
a near riot as the goblins shout and scream about unfair treatment, but one
look from Tandilus seems to quell the most ardent and vociferous Grelgs.
Marfisa’s charger, however, is useless, as it is too frightened to perform as
needed. Marfisa departs the range to saddle and bard a new mount.
While
this is going on, the second joust is prepared and the contestants enter the
field. Draconis Ankora and Amarys both enter, and both are in full jousting
regalia. They both sit massive mounts and both are dressed in full jousting
kit. This includes plate mail for the riders and barding for the horses. Before
the joust is set up, Draconis rides the length of the arena, stopping before
Maelora and Ksenia. He bows from his saddle.
“My
lady Queen, it is customary for a knight to carry a lady’s favour when he is
jousting. I was wondering if you would do me the honour of granting me a favour
of yours, to carry into battle? Being both dark elf and queen, you are the
natural selection for an item such as this. What say you?”
Maelora
smiles and stands and every head turns. The otherworldly beauty of the Elfqueen
is evident in every move she makes. Pulling a kerchief from her sleeve, she
drapes on the tip of Draconis’ lance. “You have asked, and you have received.
Be aware, however, that you face Amarys, a member of my own tribe. This favour
grants you no boons or special treatment. And know that I will be routing for
her to win. But if you do emerge victorious, you will be treated with all due
courtesy and respect. Good luck, Draconis. You will need it.”
The
starting kerchief is held aloft once more, and dropped. On the first pass,
Amarys strikes Draconis, breaking her lance, but does not unseat him. A cheer
goes up as the two salute each other. The second pass has Draconis scoring a
hit on Amarys, who lies back on her mount’s withers, but is not unseated. The
third pass sees no hits scored. And so it goes, each scoring hits, each
breaking lances, but neither unseating the other. The two seem evenly matched
at first, but ever so slowly, Amarys begins to take her toll. Her hits become a
little sharper, Draconis’ recovery a little slower until, finally, on the tenth
pass, Amarys strikes Draconis square on the chest, knocking him out of his
saddle. Rising to his feet, he bows to Amarys, who whoops and hollers like a
true Amazon at her victory. Draconis then heads toward Maelora.
“My
lady Queen, I thank you for your favour, but it seems your well wishes are
necessary for your favour to grant any boons. Congratulations to your champion.
May she fare as well in her next battle.” With that, he bows to the Queen and
walks out of the arena.
And
finally, the finale of the Joust is set—Amarys of the Campfire Girlz against
Marfisa of the Horseclans. Marfisa rides into the arena on a new mount, and
there is some tension on her face. Clearly, this is not the steed she wanted
for this competition, but it is the mount she has so it will have to do. The
two women, fully outfitted in plate mail and their horses in barding, strike an
impressive picture. On opposite ends of the arena, each salutes the other and
then they ready themselves. A drop of the kerchief and the joust is on.
The
first few passes are similar in style to Amarys’ first joust, each scoring hits
and each surviving those hits. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the
greater skill lies with Marfisa. Her strikes are more solid, and better placed.
She holds her weapon with greater skill and uses it to better effect. Before
long, it is clear that, barring a lucky hit by Amarys, the contest will soon be
over, and there is little doubt as to who will have won. And thus, it holds
true. On the seventh pass, Marfisa hits Amarys cleanly and forcefully, knocking
the Campfire Girl from her mount. Rising from the dirt, Amarys places hand over
heart and offers congratulations to the victor. Marfisa raises her lance in
salute, acknowledging the honour and courage of her opponent.
And
so it come to pass that the standings for the Joust are known—Draconis of the
Dark Phoenix in third, Amarys of the Campfire Girlz in second, and Marfisa of
the Horseclans in first.
The Gladitorial Games
With
the end of the Joust, the workers go into the Competition Circle to remove the
Jousting equipment and set up for the Gladitorial Games, the last event of the
Games and perhaps the most widely anticipated event on the roster. So the
contestants are called forth, each one by one. Madlad of the Grelgs, entering
wearing only a huge pincer arm, similar to that installed on the Dred, but
somewhat smaller and attached directly to his flesh. Dr’Nubulax, a titan,
fighting for Klan Ulminbore, and he is dressed in leather armour and wields a
long-handled two-handed heavy axe—albeit for the purposes of this competition a
wooden-headed version with a blunt and padded edge is being used. Next comes
Gog, the leader of the Legions of Light, outfitted in leather armour and
wearing a sword made for a giant. Lucan of the Horseclans enters the Circle,
dressed in fitted Dwarven plate mail and carrying the sword Quickflame and a
strange, staff-like weapon with metal flanges on the end. He is followed by
October, last year’s winner, armed with two curved swords at her belt and
wearing fitted armour. Another titan, Andromeda of the Campfire Girlz, entered
the Circle, wearing a shield, Va’Id’s ‘Armour of Beauty’ and carrying the
Exemplar Sword. Finally, Mraag makes his entrance, carrying no weapons except
the dangerous implements provided by nature.
Alran
announces that the Gladitorial Games will commence soon. In this contest, each
competitor has been assigned an opponent but, since there are seven
contestants, October will gain a bye into the next round on account that she
was last year’s winner. The competition is single elimination—once you have
lost, you are out of the contest. The three winners and October will fight in
the second round, with the two finalists fighting the last contest of the
Games. Once the fight is over—either the opponent has capitulated or he is dead
or unconscious—the fight will stop. Any who refuse to stop will be disqualified
from the competition. The first round fights will be: Mraag vs Madlad, Andromeda
vs Dr’Nubulax and Lucan vs Gog.
Now that the contestants were all gathered
together, Tandilus came to stand before them. Announcing that he would be
checking and dispelling any magical enchantments on equipment, there was a hue
and cry from—where else?—the Grelgs. Swotti cam running forward, a protest on
his lips.
“Yaz can’t do that!” he yelled. “Yaz don’ understan’—STR’s have
been driven inta his bonez, an’ these’re enhanced by MASSCJE's and MMCRD's t’
compensate fer th’ additional weight uv th’ arm an’ frame. So’s yaz cin see
what takin’ away th’ magic’ll do t’ poor Madlad.” When he is met with blank
stares at his explanation, he shakes his head, muttering. “I’ve gots ta ‘splain
everyfin t’ ever’body. Tha’s Steel Tensioning Rods, Magically Assisted Spring
Controlled Joint Enhancements and Magical Muscular Contraction Rate Delimiters.
If yaz turn off th’ magic, poor Madlad’d be inna state o’ total body pain. Once
again, showin’ the judgin’ fer this mockery uv a sham uv a pretense uv a
charade uv a travesty. He couldn’t fight like that! Yaz could kill ‘im!”
Tandilus was unperturbed. “You know the rules, my green smelly
friend. Everyone has to abide by the same set, and that set says ‘No magic.’
Any others having magic weapons will have them rendered inert. My dear Madlad
is welcome to withdraw if he can’t fight without the aid of magic. Or he can
choose to be brave and tough it out, like a true champion. See, there is
another magic weapon, that of the Exemplar sword. My magic will render the
sword inert, so that no magical bonuses can be gained from the weapon. It’s
your choice, my friend.”
“But it ain’t fair! He’s gotta…”
“Swotti.”
“Boss! Da pain! Da pain! It’ll…”
“Swotti!”
“How can…”
“SWOTTI!!!”
“Awright! Madlad, s’up ta yaz. Yaz wanna go through wiv it, yaz
can—it’s jus’ gonna hurt like one a’ Vishuss’ victums. Whaddya say?”
Glowering at Tandilus, Madlad snaps his pincer open and shut a few
times, and then nods his head. “But I’ll need help gettin’ to the ring, cause I
ain’t gonna move so’s gud.”
Tandilus
and Alran nod agreement. Alran asks that Mraag and Madlad get ready for their
fight, as it will begin after the Magus does his business. Two burly guards
stand close to Madlad, ready to carry him into the arena for his battle.
Closing his eyes, Tandilus speaks some arcane gibberish and the end of his
staff glows, sending out an aura of power that settles around Andromeda’s sword
and Madlad’s arm. As soon as the energy winks out, Madlad starts screaming, a
heart clenching, spine jarring scream that is the very essence of agony. The
pincer arm is rooted to the spot, Madlad unable to lift the hulking piece of
machinery. The two guards lift him and place him in the centre of the ring,
where more screaming and cursing go on. Finally, just as the match is about to
begin, Madlad gives one final scream and then passes out, his form hanging
limply from the inert metal arm. Alran approaches Madlad and calls his name,
then, when there is no answer, points to the judge.
“The
winner, by default, is Mraag, as Madlad is unable to compete. The next
match—Andromeda vs Dr’Nubulax.”
The
two titans make their way into the ring, as the guards haul Madlad out of the
arena and Mraag, no expression on his alien bug face, steps back, already
through to the next round. Andromeda and Dr’Nubulax salute each other, bow
their heads toward one another, and then take up defensive stances.
The
two warriors circle each other warily, each seeming hesitant to throw the first
blow. After a couple of revolutions with no action, the crowd starts to get
restless. Then, without warning, Dr’nubulax swings his great axe in a great,
overhand blow, aiming at Andromeda’s weapon shoulder. The blow would have been
devastating, if Andromeda had been there to take it. As it was, she was no
longer there when the strike came, pirouetting out of the way. Spinning around,
Andromeda touches the flat of her weapon on Dr’nubulax’s own weapon shoulder. A
nod from the male titan acknowledges the hit, and then the defensive postures
are assumed once more.
And
so it goes. It is soon apparent that, while both have training in the
gladiatorial arts, Andromeda is simply in better shape than Dr’nubulax and
quickly gains an advantage. For every blow that Dr’nubulax throws, be it
underhand or overhand, utilising strength or agility, Andromeda is able to move
out of the way and touch Dr’nubulax with the flat of her blade. After about five
minutes, Dr’nubulax raises his sword and concedes defeat, doing so with a stiff
formality. Now three contestants are through, with only one contest left from
the first round.
The
last draw of the first round is between Gog and Lucan. Lucan comes and stands
in the centre of the arena, his armour gleaming and Quickflame shining in his
hand. Gog stands in leather armour, his own sword held loosely in his hands.
The battle begins and this contest is more a battle among equals. Gog has a
slight advantage in strength which is only natural, being a giant, while Lucan
has the edge in agility and, it seems, experience. Lucan uses intricate sword
work to aid his fight, using feints, blocks and counterstrikes against the
giant. Gog, on the other hand, adopts a strategy of utilising his strength
against his smaller opponent. Using wide, sweeping blows, he hits Lucan hard,
trying to jar his weapon out of his hand or to simply beat through Lucan’s
defences. The battle flows back and forth—Lucan is able to score a hit using a
deft feint combined with a counterstroke, while Gog forces Lucan’s sword down
and then scores with a downstroke to the shoulder. Soon, each man is covered
with several small cuts and wounds, none fatal, and, as the fight goes on,
Gog’s constitution starts to play a factor. He seems less fatigued than Lucan,
but he is not scoring as many hits as the Horseclan member.
At
first, Lucan appeared to be trying to wear down his foe but, seeing that Gog
had more strength and constitution, he changed his tactics. Allowing for the
fact that he had greater agility, Lucan started using his blade to greater
effect, employing combinations and attacking so that Gog would be out of
position to block the final blow. This is, indeed, how the fight ended. Gog was
pressing an attack, reining blows down on Lucan, but Lucan blocked the strokes with
aplomb. Then, Lucan attacked high, forcing Gog to block, but he left an opening
that Gog took. In forcing the attack, Gog overextended himself and Lucan spun
his blade around, disarming the giant. Asked if he would yield, Gog nodded,
then saluted Lucan. The fourth semi-finalist is decided.
Having
started with seven contestants, now there are four—Mraag, October, Andromeda,
and Lucan. The bouts are set and then announced—Mraag vs Lucan and Andromeda vs
October. The first of the semi-finals is the Andromeda/October match. The two
combatants enter the arena and face each other, October with a practised ease,
Andromeda with suppressed fury. October offers her hand but Andromeda slaps it
away, hissing “Die, Chaos scum!” Then the battle is joined in earnest.
Wielding
two swords, one in each hand, October is clearly the faster and quicker of the
two. It looks to be, once again, the classic battle of speed vs brawn. However,
Andromeda seemingly gives no thought to avoiding blows if it means landing one.
Her singlemindedness is frightening, and she uses her strength to devastating
effect. October is able to block a great many of her blows—in fact, the
majority of the blows Andromeda makes, October blocks. But each strike she
blocks, each thrust she counters, takes something out of her. Her arms seem to
tire, and the blocks become a little less efficient, a little less precise.
Andromeda is implacable in her fury, always moving forward, always pressing the
attack, using her prodigious strength to great effect. Those attacks October
does get in, past the Armour of Beauty, seem to have no effect on Andromeda.
Still she comes, ruthless in her efficiency, brutal in her demeanour.
October
starts to get a little desparate. As her blows are having no effect, and she
can’t hope to match Andromeda’s endurance or strength, October goes on an all
out offensive. Leaping with preternatural speed and grace, her blades whirl
like a deadly curtain of steel. Once, twice, three times, five, her blades
strike home, biting into Andromeda’s flesh. Suddenly, her right blade catches
in the titan’s armour, stuck in one of the joints. With her left hand,
Andromeda grabs October’s arm in a vice-like grip. The sword dancer is unable
to pull away, and Andromeda smashes her sword fist into October’s face,
breaking her nose.
Gasping
from pain, October tries to pull away again, but her head spins and flashes of
pain cascade through her body, centring on her nose. Screaming a scream of
animal fury, Andromeda rears back, both hands on her sword. As her hands reach
the apex of her swing, Andromeda spins 180 degrees, with her back now toward
October. At the same time, Andromeda reverses the grip on her sword and brings
the point of the blade back behind her, almost like a canoe stroke, and pierces
October’s chest. The dark elf’s eyes go wide and she gasps, feeling the sword
slide into her. Andromeda holds the pose, jabbing the sword into the dark elf,
until October falls over in the dirt. Only then does Andromeda rise and,
without looking back, walk from the arena.
A
stunned silence follows, the sight of blood and death both repellent and
fascinating. But death is always a part of the Games, just as it is always a
part of life. The members of the Dark Phoenix make a solemn procession to
gather their fallen hero and bring her back to her own people. Still, there was
yet a contest to conduct, and a combat to see who would face Andromeda in the
final.
So
it was that Mraag, Xaati warrior and champion, came to face Lucan, warlord of
the Horseclans of Ageria. Lucan had changed his gear, replacing the plate
armour with leather armour, and, instead of Quickflame, he now carried a weapon
he called the Exterminator. This weapon was a six foot metal stave but with
metal flanges set at ninety degrees to the pole on either end. An odd looking
weapon, to be sure, but there must be some purpose for it, so the spectators
waited to see how this weapon will work. Mraag is simply Mraag, fifteen feet of
pure killing instinct.
The
combat begins and it is clear that, in terms of physical abilities, Mraag is
stronger, faster, and hardier than Lucan. In fact, it may be that Mraag is the
strongest, fastest, hardiest fighter in all the Games. But what Lucan lacks in
physical skills, he more than makes up for in mental acuity. The first
engagement sees Mraag scuttle across the arena floor on four legs with amazing
speed, his mandibles gnashing. As he passes Lucan, one of the mandibles whips
out, aiming to take one of Lucan’s arms off. Turning just in time, Lucan
manages to fend off most of the blow, but not before a slice on his arm is
opened. It is clear that Lucan has made some study of the Xaati, or at least
bugs, for he clearly has a strategy for fighting Mraag. The problem is that
Mraag is simply too fast for Lucan.
Rising
up on two legs, the giant bug attempts to grab Lucan with one set of arms. The
crafty human is able to fend off the bug’s arms with his weapon, keeping the
staff between him and those arms. With frightening speed, the mandibles whip
around, attempting to close around Lucan. The warlord desperately jams the
flanges into the creature’s mouth, effectively jamming them open. Keeping the
mandibles jammed, however, means that the weapon is tied up and cannot be used
to block the bug’s other limbs. One of the creature’s large upper arms, the
ones covered in barbs, cuts across Lucan’s face, opening a huge gash, from
which blood flows freely.
Scrambling
to get away, to get some breathing room, Lucan twists the Exterminator and
backs away, trying to put some distance between him and the alien Xaati. There
is no respite, though, for Mraag continues to move forward, his mandibles
clacking, the sound of impending doom. Lucan uses the strange weapon to try and
keep Mraag away from him, but the bug simply has too many weapons, and he can’t
defend against them all. His strategy with the flanges on the stave was a good
one, but he is simply not fast enough to take advantage of the brief breather
the tactic afforded him. Another swipe of the arm and Lucan has another cut,
this one on his chest. He is losing blood now, and looks to be getting weaker.
The flanges are having a harder time keeping the crushing mandibles away from
him.
Again,
and again, the barbed arms cut, and once, he is bitten by the mandibles,
creating a great, sucking wound around his midriff. Mraag rises up on two legs,
approaching the bleeding human, who seems to be on his last legs. Suddenly,
Lucan collapses to the ground, the loss of blood too much for him, his limp
form still on the arena floor. The Xaati rises up to his full height, triumph
evident in his multi-faceted eyes, and then starts his descent, his one thought
to end this miserable human’s life. Unexpectedly, the Exterminator lifts from
the arena floor and, with a twist of the stave, a metal spear point extends
from the end, creating an impaling weapon—right under the bug. Unable to stop
his descent, Mraag does, indeed, impale himself on the spear. The carapace
underneath does offer him some protection, but the spear point impales the bug.
A long, low, chittering scream explodes out of Mraag and then, with vicious
purpose, his mandibles come down and lop off Lucan’s head, sending it rolling
away from his prone body. Just like that, the battle is over.
In
the stunned silence, a tableau—a headless human corpse, lying underneath an
impaled Xaati, standing on bloodsoaked sand somewhere in Lorasia. No one moves,
no one speaks, no one breathes. The silence is shattered by those members of
the Horseclans rushing to make sure the Xaati does not eat their fallen comrade.
One who fought so bravely deserves better than filling the belly of a giant
cockroach. And they would not allow that to happen, not to one of their own.
The
shocking veneer of violence has left its mark on the sands here in the arena and
on the world throughout Lorasia. Two deaths in as many fights, with another
contest still another to come. What would this combat bring? Would the foes
fight to the submission or—like in the last two matches—to the death? Queasy
fascination held everyone still, not wanting to miss—but almost too scared to
watch—the upcoming struggle.
Some
small amount of time is given so that the two finalists can tend to their
wounds and gain a little rest before the final. Soon—all too soon, for some—the
bell is rung and the contestants called. The final of the Gladitorial Games.
The last event in the Lorasia Games. The dreams of glory seem far away,
replaced by scenes of gory…slaughter. So it was that the two finalists made
their way to the arena. Each had wounds to deal with. Each had blood on his or
her hands, legs or mandibles. Each faced their own mortality and, one hoped,
each made peace with themselves and their gods.
So
it was that Andromeda of the Campfire Girlz and Mraag of the Xaati came to face
each other on the sand of Lorasia. They stood their ground despite their
wounds, and determination steeled their nerves. This was a battle to tell your
children about—a twelve foot titan against a 15 foot giant…cockroach. Andromeda
brought up her sword, and Mraag gnashed his mandibles, and then combat was
joined.
Both
were far warier than in their earlier matches, knowing that each had sufficient
skill to end the other’s life, and each having previous battle wounds, slowing
them down. Perhaps this could end without death. Perhaps. But neither was
counting on it. Mraag now moved almost
exclusively on all fours, protecting his injured underside. This gave Andromeda
a slight advantage in height, but she moved a bit stiffer than did Mraag. With
a sudden flourish, the two met in a cavalcade of violence.
Mraag
made the first move, scuttling in and trying to bite Andromeda’s leg. She
blocked that with her shield and swung her blade in a whistling arc. Mraag
ducked under the blade and lunged at the titan with his barbed foreleg,
scraping against the Armour of Beauty and not much else. Andromeda dropped into
a low crouch and spun around, swinging her blade at the Xaati’s legs, but the
bug leapt above the cut, landing over the squatting titan. He brought his
mandibles down, aiming to decapitate his foe, but Andromeda planted a fist into
Mraag’s wounded underbelly, causing him to hiss in pain and retreat.
One
more time the pair came together, and one more time they split apart, neither
damaging the other more than superficially. A swing of the sword, a dodge out
of the way. A thrusting mandible, a blocking shield. A leap in, a pirouette
out. A rearing up, a falling away. Back and forth, to and fro, the battle went.
Until. Until the one made the mistake that gave the other the opening he
needed. Mraag was crouched on his four legs, mandibles clacking, forearms
bristling. Cautious of his dangerous weapons, Andromeda aimed a blow at the
bug’s head. Only, as she was making the overhand swing, suddenly Mraag lunged
upward, rising on his two hind legs. This movement brought his mandibles right
into the path of Andromeda’s blow—and with a horrifying crack, severed her
sword hand from her arm. She watched as her hand—and, more importantly, her
weapon—fell to the earth. Blood gushed from the wound, spraying the Xaati
warrior, but he ignored it. Pressing his advantage, he grasped the bleeding arm
and lifted it above her head—exposing the gap in the armour under the arm. With
savage viciousness, Mraag lunged forward with his head, piercing this vulnerable
area with one of his mandibles.
Andromeda
felt the mandible slide into her and felt it perforate her heart. She had lost.
Not too bad a way to go, in one on one combat, but she was gone. Her time here
was done. A final breath rattled in her chest and she slid away, falling
lifeless to the ground. And so it came to pass. Three battles. Three deaths.
But those of the Campfire Girlz refused to let Andromeda’s death pass quietly.
They gather her body and join together in song, singing of life, love, and
beauty, in honour of Andromeda’s life and her pursuits.
The Closing Bell
As
the arena is cleared, of blood and the detritus of combat, Alran made his way
to the stage. Clearing his throat, he looked somewhat taken aback. “Well,
certainly an…unexpected ending to these Games. But, in the same way that life
is unexpected, so to are the Lorasia Games. In many ways, it could be said that
the Games are, in microcosm, Lorasia. Here we have empires of Law, Chaos and
Balance. Some work together, others don’t. There is life—and there is death.
Let us hope that what is learned here can be carried to our own lives, and our
own adventures.
“I
do have an announcement to make before I get to the overall winner of the
Games. Representatives of the Temples of Law, Chaos and Balance have offered
their services to those of you who have lost friends and companions. The cost
is 2000 gold—expensive, I know, but these spells do not come cheap—and what is
2000 gold for the return of a friend? In any event, if you wish to take
advantage of this service, simply let us know before you leave.”
Alran
smiled now. “So now there is one piece of business left, and that is to declare
the winner of the 3rd Annual Lorasia Games. The scoring system,
again, is 3 points for first place, 2 points for second and one point for
third. In the matter of the Gladitorial Games, as there was no clear third
place winner, it has been split between the Dark Phoenix and the Horseclans,
each receiving half a point. That being said, the runner up to the Lorasia
Games is…the Horseclans of Ageria. And the winner is…the Campfire Girlz!
Congratulations to all. We hope to see you all the next time around.”
Editor’s Column
Hello all. Well, here it is, in all it’s 21 page glory—the Lorasia
Games. The bastard is finally finished. I don’t have much to say this month,
but I did want to say that the Performance category was judged by a panel of
Harlequin refs. No names, titles or any other identifying marks were used when
the refs read the submission, so it was all done equally and fairly. I don’t
want people saying I’m playing favorites or anything like that. Oh yes—the
graphics are non-existant this issue, what with the Lorasia Games and all.
Sorry about that. It’ll be rectified next month. That’s about it for right now.
Let me know if you need anything further.
Good Gaming,
Stuart
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