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Post By DONAR Wed Aug 25, 2004 at 10:15:20 pm EDT |
Subject
Because Shep demandethed it..and Vish dared me...a story??? | |
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Ausgard: The Royal Palace. (Well, obviously it's the 'royal' palace as there's no other palaces in Ausgard per se...but just calling it the 'Palace' tends to be confusing and a lot of mail ends up going to England, Denmark and Sweden. Anyway. This is a prologue, not an architecture lesson. On with the story.)
Imagine if you will a huge hall inside this Palace. No. More huge than that. *sigh* It may come as no surprise that your inferior human brain obviously cannot even begin to conjure the majesty of the this hall in this castle, so in an attempt to encourage Ausgardian-Human relations, we will put it in your mind piece by piece and allow you to join the dots, assuming you don't eat the crayon.
This (huge) hall has walls of purest gold, detailing what appear to be intricate carvings of Gods and monsters frozen in eternal battle. In fact, it is a battle frozen in time and said to be reawakened come World's End. That fact is one of the reasons for the numerous guards lining the walls (the guards themselves almost works of art, each man no less than 8 feet tall and armed with spears long enough to poke you in the eye from the top of a large hill).
The great hall (still huge) is lit by the Ausgardian sun that wafts through the layers of round shields that form the roof and refelcts from the gaurds' winged helmets to the golden walls and back before resting as a relaxed glow of the room. To look in this hall is to know the heart of Ausgard. Strong. Brilliant. Eternal. And huge.
At the end of the hall are two thrones on a raised platform, and before this platform is a large round table. One could imagine a huge banquet being placed upon this table for heads of state visiting the royalty that would sit in the thrones. Perhaps platters of traditional Ausgardian cuisine like pickled herring, dragonheart stew or roast horse. But this table is not for dining, and never will be, so don't even think about it, mortal. Keep your toasted cheese sandwiches far far away, because around this table sit the men and women of Ausgard that serve her people and her King & Queen. They are the lawmakers, the policy reviewers and the quill drainers.
On this day, in this (huge) hall, the thrones that should hold Ausgard's monarchy are empty. Nowadays, this is not so odd. To say the new King does things as his Father once did would be quite the lie. Instead, the men and women of the Ausgardian parliament sit around the table and again wonder aloud amongst themselves when he will return.
They do not wonder for long. With a sudden crash and a booming voice that echoes through the hall, their King has returned. Gjodyn, speaker of the parliament greets his King on behalf of the table.
"Lord Donar! Tis good to see thee returned anon.."
"Aye. Thee also, Gjodyn. Tell me, hast there been word from the North from the Frosting Giants? Will they now submit to the might of Ausgard and ne'er threaten her walls again?"
"My Lord...we're not at war with the Northern Frosting Giants."
The King paused mid-glory, shifting in his stance and stooping down to Gjodyn's height. "Art thou sureth, because I couldst have sworneth.."
"Aye Milord...tis the eastern Gjellertrolls that doth vex our boundaries. We art not at war with the Northern Frosting Giants."
"I see." said the King, discarding his Kingsword, (upon which was impaled the severed head of Maxseridoa, the Northern Frostern Giant's Tribal Leader) upon the table. "Well, we art now. Sendeth his widow a ham."
"Aye, your majesty..."
"Now, tell me. What must needs smiting next? What foul miscreant shalt suffer the wrath of the Oldmanson in the name of justice and the Ausgardian way?"
"Your majesty, maybe you should sit down."
"But...there art smiting...maybe e'en rendering and exsanguinating..."
"Nay milord. There art no problems that need be resolved with thoughtless smiting."
"NAAAY!!! My kingdom is gone?"
"Not at all milord...here.." Gjodyn passed the King some official looking documents. "These require your immediate attention. The Queen has been most gracious in the running of most of the day to day business the land has required, but many things must be completed by yourself."
"Art they..declarations of war?" The King asked, his hopes rising for a moment.
"In a way...milord.." Gjodyn hesitated. "We are waging battle against..uh...unsanitary streets."
The king paused. "That does not sound liketh a very epic battle."
"Well milord we need 50 new streetsweepers..err..'broom warriors'...to work the lower east sector of the capital, and the budget will need to be rectified to allow for their new ongoing status. As a result the sales taxes on swords must needs go up by 2.6 percent but there will be a fringe benefits rebate on all shield purchases made during this quarter, assuming that the pre-requisite for the purchase is primarily for business usage, depending on the...milord?"
The Kings' mind had wandered, which was also not an oddity of late. Donar may not have been a genius..Hel, he may not have been remotely smart, but he knew enough to know when he wasn't needed.
He had been feeling increasingly distant from his people. What hadn't occured before was who his people really were. His subjects were once his people, but even when he was still a prince he wasn't actually among them as much. He knew who his people were. He ignored Gjodyn's words and meandered over to his Father's..no...His throne and took a seat. His right hand came to rest upon the crystal orb in the throne's armrest and he stared. Often has his Father used this orb to see the happenings in Ausgard, Middlegard and all the Gards between. In truth, he had sacrificed an eye to the orb in order to be kept aware at all times of everything that happened anywhere. Donar flipped through the orb's channels until he spied what he missed most. There they were. Happy. Together. It seemed they had aged so much from what he remembered, but that's bound to happen when you're not immortal. He admired their brief lives that they lived with such power and passion. These were his people now. He knew what he had to do.
"Gjodyn." Donar stood and scribbled on a nearby piece of parchment with a quill not yet fully drained. "Thou art in charge util mine return. Pass this note on to mine beloved *Annj. She will now what to doeth."
"But milord."
Donar wasn't listening. He left the hall and headed for the foyer/amory of the castle (in Ausgard, you never know who's at the door. Better to be armed than dead.) and opened the 14th diplay case on the right. "Come along, mine old friend. Friends await." Mjalcolm flew into Donar's hand as summoned. If ever a baseball bat with an enchanted nail in it needed lips to smile with, today was the day.
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It had been a slow day an the Bean & Donut. So slow that Shep was almost happy to hear a thunderous crashing noise from the former kitchen followed by plumes of dust and splintered wood through the door. She couldn't tell who it was walking through the remaining pieced of the doorway, but they were big and had horns. It stretched it's massive arms out, clicking muscles and bones back into place before speaking.
"Heilsa, milady. Dost thou knoweth where I canst findeth the Dancer? I believe she said I owed her an adventure..."
Well Shep? Be careful what you wish for....
(*'ANN-ee' for those of you not fluent in usage of Ausgardian j.)
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