The Warlord's New Suit
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.
Drohem (7/12/2010) - This article was compiled from the archived Shooting Iron Design website.