Yesterday's News...
Special Disclaimer:
#13 is a continuation from last week's epic tale. And it's not strictly a news story, like I try to make them. Translation will be posted on Friday. OH, yeah! And this week is a twofer. The second story is a very special congratulatory shout-out to one of my oldest and best friends, who has scored a major professional-life victory this week worthy of special mention. Again, translations will be posted tomorrow, unless one of you psychotics knows how to outrun me.
13.
“Idols and worshippers-those are mine, and you shall not touch them, Sarbox Kingsbane.” Narthex the Obviator locked steely gaze with his ageless rival, Sarbox the Destroyer. Sarbox spat back curses to turn sailors pale and retorted with muscle, bone and axe. “They distract the king and disrupt the land with their mewling-thus I will obliterate them.” For many long days, the titans locked swords, neither taking an inch of ground against his opponent, and neither giving. The moons grew pregnant and wept themselves thin, and still neither man would budge-within minutes, both remaining idols were lost in the great shadows cast by true heroes, and the masses, whose eyes wander quickly, were made to forget their fanatical devotions and turned to find new deities to worship. Thus did Sarbox and Narthex break their stalemate…upon the arrival of the Phoenix of Black Albion, Mad James the Lost Mohican! While Sarbox tried to overpower his rival with his devil-stare and Narthex resisted through clenched teeth, James the Mad gathered the eye of the milling throng and gathered them to forge a new path and become a new army.
14.
Mighty war ravaged the fields and destroyed all thing living upon the Plain of Beeg in the Kingdom of Awfis. Swords clashed against shield, spears glanced across fierce armors, and battle cry mixed with dying moan, across the wicked Beeglands. The Tribes of the Morning, warped by inhuman madness, raged in their excitement to make terrible conflict against the Ichor-Swilling Tribes of the Dusk. But Sarbox the Destroyer would have no part in this, for he had dark business in the caves beneath: miles below the surface and the vile conflicts that raged across its fields, Sarbox hunted. Legends spoke of the terrible infant-headed swamp-demon, Balthedrina the Unclean, glutinous defiler of the sane and innocent, who was the mother of gorgons and sister to the howling swamp-dragon, Koorag. Sarbox had once fought against Koorag and wore the oozing, pustulent vastness of her tongue upon his shield for many moons after. Reaching deep to the center of the earth, Sarbox came upon a great cavern, lit with guttering candles, made from the tallow-fat of human infants, and reeking of dark sorcery. This is where the amorphous blubber of Balthedrina fell upon him, for its foulness had lay in wait for this day-wishing to take revenge for the defeat of its foul sister. But Sarbox would be triumphant, for Balthedrina the Unclean had aged poorly, as trapped devils can do, and no lesser fiend may stand in the might of the Omen of That Which Must Know No Name. In time, Sarbox would emerge from these caves and loft high the severed head of the slain devil. But even long after her death, her dark influence would remain, forever tainting relations between the Tribes of the Morning and the Tribes of Dusk.
#13 is a continuation from last week's epic tale. And it's not strictly a news story, like I try to make them. Translation will be posted on Friday. OH, yeah! And this week is a twofer. The second story is a very special congratulatory shout-out to one of my oldest and best friends, who has scored a major professional-life victory this week worthy of special mention. Again, translations will be posted tomorrow, unless one of you psychotics knows how to outrun me.
13.
“Idols and worshippers-those are mine, and you shall not touch them, Sarbox Kingsbane.” Narthex the Obviator locked steely gaze with his ageless rival, Sarbox the Destroyer. Sarbox spat back curses to turn sailors pale and retorted with muscle, bone and axe. “They distract the king and disrupt the land with their mewling-thus I will obliterate them.” For many long days, the titans locked swords, neither taking an inch of ground against his opponent, and neither giving. The moons grew pregnant and wept themselves thin, and still neither man would budge-within minutes, both remaining idols were lost in the great shadows cast by true heroes, and the masses, whose eyes wander quickly, were made to forget their fanatical devotions and turned to find new deities to worship. Thus did Sarbox and Narthex break their stalemate…upon the arrival of the Phoenix of Black Albion, Mad James the Lost Mohican! While Sarbox tried to overpower his rival with his devil-stare and Narthex resisted through clenched teeth, James the Mad gathered the eye of the milling throng and gathered them to forge a new path and become a new army.
14.
Mighty war ravaged the fields and destroyed all thing living upon the Plain of Beeg in the Kingdom of Awfis. Swords clashed against shield, spears glanced across fierce armors, and battle cry mixed with dying moan, across the wicked Beeglands. The Tribes of the Morning, warped by inhuman madness, raged in their excitement to make terrible conflict against the Ichor-Swilling Tribes of the Dusk. But Sarbox the Destroyer would have no part in this, for he had dark business in the caves beneath: miles below the surface and the vile conflicts that raged across its fields, Sarbox hunted. Legends spoke of the terrible infant-headed swamp-demon, Balthedrina the Unclean, glutinous defiler of the sane and innocent, who was the mother of gorgons and sister to the howling swamp-dragon, Koorag. Sarbox had once fought against Koorag and wore the oozing, pustulent vastness of her tongue upon his shield for many moons after. Reaching deep to the center of the earth, Sarbox came upon a great cavern, lit with guttering candles, made from the tallow-fat of human infants, and reeking of dark sorcery. This is where the amorphous blubber of Balthedrina fell upon him, for its foulness had lay in wait for this day-wishing to take revenge for the defeat of its foul sister. But Sarbox would be triumphant, for Balthedrina the Unclean had aged poorly, as trapped devils can do, and no lesser fiend may stand in the might of the Omen of That Which Must Know No Name. In time, Sarbox would emerge from these caves and loft high the severed head of the slain devil. But even long after her death, her dark influence would remain, forever tainting relations between the Tribes of the Morning and the Tribes of Dusk.