The Wonder Worlock: Do You Believe in Magic? Part 1
Posted by: Byron Brewer, Managing Editor
March 22, 2012 10:51 | Updated: 30 weeks 9 hours Ago
March 22, 2012 10:51 | Updated: 30 weeks 9 hours Ago
Weeks ago, in the solar system around the other-dimensional star of Helios --- full-blown and already populated with those known as the Subatomics – appeared the world of Microsha, for all of the Threlkellian Empire to see. Many were the plots to enslave these native Microshans, a people so naÃ¯ve, so happy to even be acknowledged as a group and as individuals.
Standing in their way? One person: Prima Dona of the Star Blazers!
Heroes all, the Star Blazers are an army of powerful beings from throughout the worlds of the Empire. Prima Dona is their leader, and the blonde is quite formidable in her own right. The sole survivor of a traitorous world destroyed during the Great Solar Wars, Prima Dona possesses strength on a superhuman scale as well as the wisdom to use it. Like few others, she also possesses the ability to use cosmic energy to augment her life force, granting her great longevity and regenerative abilities. Her only known weakness thus far has proven to be sorcery.
Sorcery, like that from her current mentor -- the Wonder Worlock!
“OK, we need those bricks over there and that cement over in that corner -- Careful! My budget from King Zavar does not include any funeral expenditures!” shouts Prima Dona as she drills the population of Subatomics, in the midst of building their first real city – the first city for them to live in and learn. “Careful! Arrrgghhhh!!”
The Star Blazer praetor is as known for her fiery temper as her leadership ability, but these innocents have about driven the young Criptonan to her breaking point.
It is as she watches some of her charges on break, playing an innocent game of whackerball in the long trench where once dwelled an object that might have not only destroyed Olympia, the planet on which the Star Blazers are now headquartered, but a goodly chunk of the Threlkellian Empire as well, that she recalls the hell these innocents have truly faced of late.
And the object? The former Macrotron! Construction of this miles-wide device began almost the minute metals were found in the caves of Growmon Pharr. The Subatomics began increasing the time they spent on mutated scientist Java Lyn’s “special project,” as he called it, until whole families had shifts at the site of its beginning.
Java Lyn had dropped onto the subatomic world from the skies like a lumpy monstrous god, and the spawn of his mind grew almost larger than his kingdom itself, a huge engine that would probably be visible from the space outside the subatomic world, if there were any to so view it.
And its purpose? Well, it was quite the opposite of his Lyn Locks, as the name Macrotron infers. This mechanical colossus was built solely to take Microsha out of its vibrational place in the Scheme of Things and bring it – atmosphere, Subatomics and all – into the world he had left, the dimension of Threlkel. In addition, the mechanism was attached by Java himself (in one of his greatest feats of strength) to a massive starship engine of Java’s design on the Microshan south pole. This engine could drive the planet constantly through space upon a theoretic return.
Was it concern for the welfare of the Subatomics or his beloved Olympia that, in the end, caused the doomed scientist to destroy the Macrotron himself? Prima Dona wonders, for unbeknownst to many, this super-girl had always been a fan of Java’s wondrous mind and the many discoveries and inventions he had bestowed upon a seemingly ungrateful Empire.
“You guys! Break is over. We have to have this set of dormatories under roof by week’s end!” Prima Dona yells, then, looking out of the corner of her eye, adds: “So says my mentor and friend, the Wonder Worlock!”
“Nice touch, Dona,” the dark mage laughs as he walks through a throng of the Subatomics – and no hard hat! “Your people -- and they are your people now, Dona – seem to be doing stupendously, working even more swiftly for you than they did for Java! I believe this first city will be done within the month and then we can take down these awful tent cities of the bolder Subatomics and bring the languishers in from the caves at Growmon Pharr, where some still think Java is around.”
“Agreed, O sir,” Dona says, “ and if I might, I would like to assign a few of the SBs to work with me in this endeavor. It is quite the chore – and one I do in my spare time in service to Emperor Traven.”
“Good enough, lassie,” the necromancer says, “and I would recommend both the Inhuman Tornado and Prism for that task. Not only are they strong and smart and did themselves proud during the Olympian Incursion, but they are quite organized and, I hear, rather jealous of what you are accomplishing over here on Microsha as separate from the Blazers!” <Laughs>
“Speaking of the Blazers, I have to oversee their next training module and you, O Mystic One, are already late for --”
<Bamf!> Crack of lightning, smell of brimstone and the wizard is gone!
“ -- the circle of allies --.” Dona’s speech trails off as she flies under her own power from Microsha to Olympia, in orbit on the opposite side of Helios.
Threlkel’s Circle of Allies: a new body consisting of all planets which came to the throne world’s defense during Olympia’s recent attack, now known by the peoples if not by the governing planets as the Olympian Incursion. At the lofty seat of power sits Traven, barbarian king of this otherwise scientific volcano-laden sphere. To his right, former vizier/now Olympian ruler Zavar, the most powerful telepath in the Empire. To his left, Favored Citizen of Threlkel the Wonder Worlock.
All around the table sit representatives of the proud worlds who saved the Empire from a crazed Warlord Kwang: the Orthgons, the Sconscions, the I’rhjats and more. And at the Round Table’s other end – that is, opposite Traven, sits a tall, noble Eorge Wellton, the Emperor’s chief general and an individual many credit with winning the war almost single-handedly. He is enjoying his new station as His Majesty, Lord Wellton, ruler of Threlkel (as opposed to Traven’s master title of Emperor Prime).
<Bang! Bang!> The heavy sound of Traven’s enchanted blade banging the Round Table brings the chit-chat of a dozen different languages to a halt as the Emperor speaks.
“Glad I am this day, at our regular meeting, to welcome friend the Wonder Worlock to Threlkel!” <Applause> “Some among you say he is here far more often than I am!” <Laughter> “Be not worried, however. I am not keeping count -- although the mage is!” A great release of nervousness empties into the large throne room with this jest, a Sconscion earl striking the dark-clad wizard on his back, much to the surprise of both.
“I know there are many here who wish to talk of our new addition, Microsha, a world from another realm peopled by a simple population willing to give you the shirt off their back for just a ”˜hello’ -- if they wore shirts, that is,” Traven said. “And I stand here as your Emperor and say you nay! Their populous shall not be put into bondage or treated as second-hand citizens as Java Lyn had desired, and their lands and resources will not be mined to death or pillaged for the good of any one part of this Empire.”
“But Your Highness --” Andros, King of Orthgona, interrupted. “Surely we --”
“Any one part of this Empire!” repeated Traven, slamming Memorell against the new table.
“We will respect this world as we respect our own. We will share, but not until such time as these people can understand and barter for themselves, until they themselves have representation on this council. Aside from myself, Zavar, the wizard and members of the Star Blazers, this zone is now as forbidden as the former boom dart factory area of this planet, the -- er uh, the Forbidden Zone.”
The decision is met with a smattering of applause, but more light bulbs flash on over the heads of these diplomats and rulers this moment than in Times Squareat midnighton New Year’s Eve.
Light years away from Threlkel’s Forbidden Zone is Olympia, new headquarters of the planet’s fighting elite, the Star Blazers!Prima Dona – tall, sleek, of golden hair and with strength enough to juggle asteroids -- is praetor of this elite corps, which also protects and carries out the personal directives of the Emperor, Traven, or on occasion King Zavar (usually when Traven is off-world).
Currently, the praetor is watching an exercise in the guard’s brand-new Panic Room, a facility filled with traps, projectile firing devices, flamethrowers and mechanical dangers such as presses, collapsing walls and the like intended to challenge the trainees – in this case, Prism and the feral Wolfin. As the two powerful SBs make their way through the dangers, Prima Dona takes a sort of inner pride at the team work this military unit is building.
The pair – Prism using her mysterious cosmic stone and Wolfin his sharp claws and animalistic might -- literally leaves the facility a shambles as they easily make their way through the last collapsing wall, working as individuals and in tandem. It is then that Dona’s atomic vision fires from her red eyes, striking a panel on one wall. A holographic image appears, its gigantic tentacles swinging and swaying as it gathers nourishment, its huge eye sending force bolts that send Wolfin reeling to the floor even as Prism’s hastily-made shield manages to actually reflect some of that power back toward the image. It is -- Kat’Wallidur!
“Wolfie, listen!” yells Prism, as the tentacles flail at her shield. “Hit the wall! Take your claws and hit the wall, not the eye!”
One mighty thrust of the sharp cat-like claws that can cut through any known substance, and – ZZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTZZZZZZZZZZZZZTT!! – the lights are out, the party’s over!
<Clap! Clap!> “Well done, guys, at least as good as I could have done,” jests Prima Dona as the members exit the training room. “Of course, you must concede it a cheap victory. You beat the room, not Kat’Wallidur. You can slice through 10 or 12 sections of that training facility and kill the programs. But I will give you points for thinking and those shields -- Prism.”
The slight to Wolfin is noted by all, and the grumbly guardsman grouches all the way to his quarters, knowing Dona’s super-hearing can pick up his gripe: “Hell, I didn’t sign onto this team to battle illusions or holographs anyway. Bring me on some more Olympians!”
As if on cue (although only Wolfin and Dona would know that), the rear wall around the SB HQ comes tumbling down like the Jerichowall eons ago from Intz attack. But this is no Olympian, no Intz that appears here this day.
It is the great wizard Thaumaturge of the planet Rubicon IX!
TO BE CONTINUED --