The Wonder Worlock: It’s Not Easy Being Green, Part 1
created 06/27/2014 - 12:36pm, updated 06/27/2014 - 12:54pm
(Cover by Ben Ferrari and Jasmin Steele)
PART THE FIRST
On the volcanic other-dimensional planet called Threlkel, science not war has been the general order of the day.
At least since warrior king Traven took the Empire in his strong but noble grip not too many bleems after the last of the active boom darts -- aka nukes -- blew up traitorous Cripton.
Now, in the great and open palace of Traven, he brings down his enchanted sword Memorell upon a gigantic round table, bringing to order the Circle of Allies, those who fought together to save the homeworld from the renegade Olympians under the command of the late Warlord Kwang.
"Order! Order" says Emperor Traven as Eorge Wellton, king of the planet proper sitting to his right, gives several delegations a cold stare. "Order!
"The honored representative of the Bluecher has the floor."
The great dra'al (chieftain) Hromkrr arises among his Bluecher fellows, an air of respect felt around the great table for Threlkel's staunchest ally and planetary kingdom which suffered the most casualties during the Olympian Incursion.
"O Great Traven, I fail to see what we have to discuss here," Hromkrr states in an echoing voice, the half-moon symbol above his brow glowing crimson.
"These -- these green apes -- these Orthgons have proven themselves utterly incapable of adapting to any civilized existence. One way or another, this recent surge of banditry and lawlessness across the Empire on their part MUST be brought to an end!"
"We of I'rhjats never trusted the green people," says King Flor Tkutjn. "I am only too sorry our suspicions were well founded."
"Watch your tongue, yellow man," threatens one of the Orthgon entourage.
Andros, King of Orthgona, regally stands among his "green apes" and bids his fellow to yield, which he most certainly does.
"The growing restlessness of the tribes concerns me too!" Andros shouts across the chamber. "But I am committed to ..."
"'Growing restlessness?' That's a fine way of putting it. You dissimulate like a first born, Andros!" comes a strangely loud call of an Orthgon from the gallery.
"Hold!" Tkutjn says. " I propose a resolution! The green people will cease all attacks against the other races of the Threlkellian Empire. Immediately! And if they do not, the civilized nations will take it upon themselves to exterminate every last one of them!"
"Here, here!" a member of Hromkrr's delegation yells.
"I am already taking severe measures against the trouble-makers among my kind," Andros says. "But I cannot possibly guarantee all incidents will cease 'immediately.' Surely you can see that?"
"Did you hear that? Andros ADMITTED it!" screams Tkutjn. "He admitted he has no control over the green hordes!"
"I said no such thing!!" Andros cries.
Posturing, Tkutjn declares to Andros: "Threlkel will never have peace until his people are wiped out once and for all!"
"Hrah!!" Andros snarls, leaping at Tkutjn.
"Andros, nay!" yells the Emperor as palace guards separate the rulers and their fellows.
"Bastard king! You will regret those words!!" Andros cries, a guard's muscled body and spear separating his emerald form from the yellow physique of Tkutjn.
"You greens are all alike!" a restrained Tkutjn decrees. "Violence is all you know! That's all you'll ever know!"
A silent Wellton looks to Traven at his left, still seated. The Emperor's head is smashed into one hand.
"The Circle is in recess!" Wellton finally declares after a telepathic suggestion from Zavar, present ruler of sanctioned Olympia.
Later that day, in the heart of the kingdom's market square, the Emperor walks with one of his favored wives, Generosa, and former chamberlain-turned-king Zavar.
"Well, THAT could've gone better," Traven smiles, arm-in-arm with his love. "I don't know what I was thinking when I established this 'Circle of Allies.' Where is that Wonder Worlock when I need him? I think it was HIS idea. Hah! Yes, I am sure it was the mage ..."
"Give it time, my husband."
"Generosa, you still haven't said where you're taking us," Traven says.
"You'll see in a moment!" she says.
"If only we knew WHY the Orthgons are reverting to their bad old habits ..."
"Whatever the reason," Zavar chimes in, "we must find a way to mitigate the disaster in the plenary session today."
"Zavar, Andros was provoked," Traven says. "I could have smashed that royal yellow braggart myself."
"Be that as it may, Andros' actions play right into the hands of the I'rhjats and the Bluechers. They could very well abandon the Circle if they don't get their resolution passed. It's only a matter of time before they form their own alliance and perhaps even declare war within the Empire. Remember Olympia... and Cripton!"
"Then what are you suggesting?" asks the Emperor. "That we go along with their plan of exterminating the greens? Pah!"
"I don't like it, either," the telepath says. "But the people of Threlkel want this 'green menace' dealt with, too .... "
Generosa interrupts the theoretical politics: "This is why I brought you here ... Say hello to Selah."
Under a polled canvas, well protected from the blaring noon-day energy rings, is the daughter of Andros... holding her sheltered egg.
"Selah!" says the stunned warrior king.
"Please don't be too angry with Andros, Emperor," she says. "Father feels terrible about losing control in the council chamber."
"Alright, my dear," Traven says. "How is your egg?"
"It quivers more and more with each passing revolution," Selah says. "Andros will be a grandfather before long."
"How happy that makes me," Generosa says, petting Selah's head. "Forgive us for disturbing you."
Leaving the tent, Generosa says to Zavar: "Selah took care of me, Zavar. Protected me when I was a captive among her kind. She is more of courage, love, strength and nobility than anyone I have ever known save my husband. The green people can become part of this greater society we're trying to build. Selah is proof of that. We must fight for HER. And we must never succumb to the prejudices of the past."
"I -- Generosa, I am ashamed we ever considered ..." The telepathic king falls to his very knees before the woman. "Majesty, forgive me!"
"There's no need, Zavar," she says, pulling the Olympian monarch to his aged feet. "I know you just want what's best for Threlkel, for Traven."
"But what if it DOES come to war with the Bluechers and the yellow men?"
"Easy, old man," Traven smiles. "We win."
TO BE CONTINUED ...