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by John 'Monk' McCarty
"It all started when Mul's head came flying into my arms.
I was heading towards the kitchens, as usual, when I heard Warlord
Prax bellowing and ranting. 'Runt!' 'Pathetic dungball!' and 'Less
effective than a Callidian's testicle!' where some of the things
I heard. As I turned the corner, I saw poor Mul, cowering in front
of the mighty Ur, a spilled mug of grog pooling at his feet. Warlord
Prax had his yaksha paw club in hand, which he swung at Mul's
head. It struck poor Mul so soundly that it decapitated him, sending
his head flying in a graceful arc into my arms. I instinctively
caught it.
Mul's head was still moving, even detached from his body. His
eyelids flickered and his mouth gasped for the air he had no lungs
to breathe."
"Ewwww," chanted the Darkling children. Smak's face
was contorted into an expression of Mul's dying moments. The children
laughed as Smak continued his antics.
"I want to hear the story!" one insistent little voice
said. Smak looked down to see the tiny face of a Darkling boy.
The youngling was stern-faced, his brow furrowed and ear fins
back. It was obvious he wasn't amused by Smak's display.
"Of course, of course," Smak continued, "Warlord
Prax then said 'You, with the head. Put it down and bring me a
mug of grog. Don't spill it or I'll kill you!' Well, I don't have
to tell you that I have never been so careful with a mug of grog
before. I brought him the grog and he was so pleased that he made
me his personal servant. He often consulted me on matters of politics,
such as the Akbar Raid, or Lode's Rebellion..."
"You're lying!" the little voice said. Smak paused and
looked at the interruptive child with disdain, before continuing.
"It all happened on the day of the Brawl, when the Warlord
must defend his position against all contenders in a grand melee.
Warlord Prax had survived three Brawls; the first to win the position
of Warlord, and the other two to keep it.
All of his minions had gathered to pay him tribute. Failure to
do so meant certain, painful death. After the tributes were given
the Brawl would commence. Whoever was left standing would become
the new Warlord.
As I was scurrying toward the audience chamber with Prax's favourite
meal, seared-but-not-cooked leg of Erd, I encountered Hov, a Darkling
who ran some sort of spying operation for Prax. This surprised
me, since I had been told that both Hov and his tribute had gone
missing.
'Tell Prax there will be a special tribute tonight, and follow
everyone's lead.' he said, before he disappeared into the shadows.
I brought the steaming meat up to Prax, who was sitting on his
rough-hewn throne at the head of the chamber. His advisor, the
Stryx Mandragar, stood behind him.
'Master,' I said, 'I believe someone has a special tribute for
you tonight.'
'Really, you dark little wretch? And what might that be?' Prax
said.
'I am but a humble Darkling, and do not comprehend for sure Master,
but I am certain it will be something grand and wonderful,' I
said. Prax looked at me with suspicion for a moment, then said
'Bring on the gifts!'
The tributes began. One by one, Prax's officers brought forward
furs, stolen loot, weapons and riches. Then, last on the list
was Hov. He came in with eight Darkling porters bearing a gurney
with nothing on it. Yet the porters were struggling with the weight
of it. They brought the gurney to the center of the room and were
visibly relieved to put it down.
Hov stood before the gurney, 'Warlord Prax! As you can clearly
see, we have brought you this fabulous magical gift.'
The other Darklings feel to their knees, and chanted in wonder,
'At last, it is found', 'Look at its golden shine', 'Behold its
fierce beauty', 'Magic glows deep within it', 'He who wears it
will never die', and many other things. I joined in, bowing and
scraping as well. Prax's interest was aroused.
'What is this? What are you gesturing at?' Prax said.
'Why, surely you recognise this most splendorous armor, sire?
It is the armor of the Darklord; one-time ruler of the Darklands
in the days of old. Its wearer becomes invulnerable. Furthermore,
it can only be seen by a warrior of worth. Besides us lowly Darklings,
only mighty, brave and fierce warriors such as yourself, and your
company here gathered can see the armor. Are there any here who
cannot see it?'
The Ur in the crowd began to grunt in the negative. One lone Ur
spoke up, 'This is stupid. I don't see anything. There's nothing
there'. Several other Ur glared at him, 'Coward!' 'Weakling!'
they cried, and a hail of yaksha club blows rained down upon the
unfortunate, outspoken Ur.
I saw Prax whisper to his Stryx advisor, 'Mandragar, do you see
this armor?'
'Well, no sire. You see, we Stryx are neither brave nor fierce.
We are cruel and cunning, so of course I do not see it,' Mandragar
said.
Then Prax spoke to me, 'You, little Erd turd. Tell me the truth
or you shall meet the fate of your predecessor. Do you see the
armor?'
I knew my very life was on the line. Regardless, I did the right
thing and lied anyway, 'Of course, my lord, it is the greatest
armor I have ever seen.'
Prax considered for a moment. 'Where did you get such armor?'
he asked Mul.
'Stolen, my lord, from the collection of a Sindaran. When I learned
of its existence, I had my spies obtain it for me, so I could
present it to you, Lord.'
'How do I know that your untrustworthy Darkling tongue is not
telling me a lie?' Prax said.
Mul responded, 'And share the fate of that unfortunate over there?'
He motioned to the Ur still beating the gory corpse of their comrade
who had not seen the magic armor. 'Not even a Darkling would be
so foolish, Lord. Perhaps you would like to try it on?'
Prax came down from his dais. The Darklings quickly and quietly
took off his armor and replaced it with armor they held and handled,
but could not be seen. They tightened straps that weren't there
and asked if they were too tight. They laced up gauntlets that
did not exist and even handed pieces to each other. When they
were done, they knelt in front of Prax, bowing low, arms spread.
'Oh, Darklord, you are great. You are the mightiest warrior in
the known world. You shall rise and conquer the world' they said.
'Would you like a test, Lord Prax?,' Mul said.
'Certainly, ' said Prax. Mul clapped his hands. The Darklings
quickly got up, drew out their knives and began to slash at the
Ur. He instinctively kicked one Darkling away, whose limp body
flew across the room. But then he realised that the other's attacks
weren't touching him. each blade always stopped before it hit
its target. Prax looked amazed, 'It does work' he said.
'Would you like a harder test, sire?,' asked Mul.
'Alright, ' Prax responded.
Mul scanned the crowd, 'Hmmm, let's see... You!,' he pointed at
another Ur. 'Will you please strike Warlord Prax full in the chest?'
The Ur looked around. 'I, er, dunno if I can hit the Warlord.'
'Gran, I order you to come here and hit me as hard as you can,
' Prax said.
So, Gran came forward and raised his yaksha paw club, ready to
strike Prax. 'Are you sure about this?,' Gran asked Prax.
'Yes. Strike me,' Prax exclaimed.
Then I noticed that Gran and Mul exchanged a knowing glance. An
evil grin spread on Gran's face.
'Hit me you simpleton!' Prax shouted.
Gran swung so hard that Prax's rib cage caved in. Prax collapsed
on the ground, his face contorted in surprise and immense agony.
Gran swung his club overhead, bringing it down with great force,
crushing Prax's skull.
All was silent for several seconds before a roar filled the room
as all the Ur lunged for each other in an impromptu Brawl. In
the end, only Gran was left standing.
He paid Mul his weight in lumens for that day's work, and I was
forgotten, allowed to go back to work in the kitchens, out of
harm's way.
And that is how Warlord Gran came to power; by Darkling trickery".
The Darkling children all looked stunned when the story finished.
They turned to look at each other, and as if answering some invisible
call, ran off together to play. Only the little Darkling, who
was so obstinate earlier, remained.
"Was that a true story?" he asked.
Smak reached down into his pouch and brought out a topknot of
what looked like Ur hair. "As a matter of fact, it is. But
don't tell anyone that I was telling a true story."
The little darkling immediately grabbed the topknot from Smak's
hands, inspected it intently for a moment, and said "I won't",
before quickly running to join his friends, topknot in hand.
Smak knew the youngling was lying, and would show the equs mane
topknot to his friends and tell them. But that was alright, because
Smak was lying too.
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