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The Wonder Worlock: It’s Not Easy Being Green, Part 2

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Posted by: Byron Brewer, Contributing Editor
created 07/13/2014 - 9:47pm, updated 07/13/2014 - 10:09pm



(Cover by Tony Savage and Jasmin Steele)


The other-dimensional planet of Orthgona, throne world for the Orthgon Solar Imperium, spins about a common yellow sun called Threlvon. On its lush surface, thick jungles and forests rise toward Threlvon's warmth, creating a world whose appearance is emerald from spaceside.

Even her people are green!

The Orthgons are 12 feet tall, have four arms and eyes mounted on the side of their heads. They are of a general nature barbaric and nomadic, rarely form families, have little concept for friendship or love and enjoy inflicting torture upon their victims, a practice Traven frowns upon.

Their social structure is highly communal and rigidly hierarchical, consisting of various levels of chiefs across the Imperium, with the highest office of king obtained by mortal combat.

In the entire Imperium, none are mightier than King Andros!

The current ire of Threlkel, its inhabitants have inexplicably taken to their old ways of banditry and lawlessness across the Empire. Andros has promised relief to his fellow worlds, but something totally different is now ongoing in the Palace Royale.

In a secret chamber below the dungeon, Andros brings together a long-brewing plot to shower the untapped riches of the planet Microsha upon Orthgona. Seated before the king is the Star Blazer called Prism, a naturalized citizen of Orthgona whose orphaned heritage of Caucasian humanoids had never really been known.

"Now, my daughter," Andros says, "the word is finally given to you."

"But, sire ..." says Prism, a girl with the heart of a hero. After years, she can no longer resist the siren call of her blue stone, the very heart of the fabled Ruby of Reality.

Now, Master? it beckons. Now?

"Now!" Prism says. "Now!" And again, as has occurred for the last few months, radiant beams of azure light from her stone envelop diverse natives of Orthgona, wherever in the vastness of the Empire they might be. And it brings a great evil, a great madness about them, embellishing emotions and ritualistic habits they have been trying to put into their cultural collective past.

Rob, lie, cheat, steal, murder! the cobalt stone's long-silenced voice says.

"Oh, Your Majesty ..." Prism moans in the dank emptiness.

"I know of your great achievements among Emperor Traven's elite army, and your people are proud!" Andros says. "But you and I have been working on this so long, my child. With the Empire scouring the four corners of the galaxy for outlaw Orthgons, my plan to invade and extract the riches of those simpletons on Microsha will go all but unnoticed! Bwahahahaha!"

And the monarch speaks true, for the recent focus of Traven and all member worlds of the Circle of Allies has been the so-called "green menace." All over the Empire, the greens have seemingly gone mad: tribal rages, commune slaughters, cases of rape, maiming and even isolated murders.

The irony, which Andros appreciates, is that no green is mindful of why they are doing these evils, reverting to past habits.

Who would guess, Andros thinks, a blue rock and a little pink girl in my sanctum are responsible?

The prize: the unmined riches of a once-subatomic world! Unknown treasures and resources beyond the dreams of avarice!


Olympia rotates around the star Helios in opposite orbit to its newest neighbor Microsha. Home of the headquarters of the Star Blazers, praetor Prima Dona puts a team of elite soldiers through their paces.

Outside, in the Garden of Nirvana, King Zavar relaxes his powerful telepathic mind amidst the flora of this world.


But then, through a self-made stargate soars late arrival (as usual) Prism, breaking the sound barrier by accident in her haste.

As she silently bows before her third king today (having seen Traven and Andros earlier in the morning), Prism inadvertently relaxes her powerful psi-shields placed in her mind by Andros via her blue stone.

Suddenly, in a garden of peace, Zavar's bald head flares white-hot like a newborn star!

The powerful telepath uses his mind to stop Prism in her tracks, a temporary statue amid the fountains, as his talent reaches out and into her mind. His psi-self battles translucent, ghostly hands -- gripping, clutching --  and jungles of cobalt vines which crawl and cling.

But Zavar will not be stayed by a mere magical rock, and thus he bursts through the SB's mental defenses ... eventually.

What he learns chills his physical self to the bone.

"Smoke!" Zavar verbally summons the SB teleporter, who arrives silently. "I am exhausted ... my mind ... Emperor immediately ..."

"Sire?" Smoke waits patiently.

The battle has exhausted the monarch, so he tries verbally to communicate his thoughts but fails. In one powerful mental burst, it all hits Smoke's mind.

"By Memorell!" a startled Smoke says, disappearing from Olympia and reappearing on Threlkel almost simultaneously.

"Your Highness!" Smoke summons her Emperor, who is playing with his army of children nearby.

The news is not good.


The air cracks and breaks, literally, on Orthgona as the warrior king Traven steps through the hole in space his enchanted blade has carved. This feeling of betrayal is personal so Traven will take care of this himself.

"Andros!" the Emperor's piercing voice shouts. "How many times has the Circle of Allies said thee nay on your asinine, selfish proposals for Microsha? And you would subjugate your own people so that 'green menace' has become a battle cry of undeserved prejudice and racism? How is this mess to be cleaned up, coward?"

"Coward?!" hisses Andros, leaping from a balcony above Traven's head. The Orthgon's four arms put Traven in a strong bear hug, but the sword swinger is a warrior born.

Quickly, Traven throws the green form off his muscled physique and stabs at the Orthgon king with Memorell. His thrust is met with a blade of equal weight and a smile appears on Traven's face. It has been a long time since Memorell has met a worthy opponent in battle.

For the next few moments, the Emperor is lost in the sheer joy of sword fighting and boyhood memories. Meanwhile, Andros is absent four of his six limbs and, pretty soon, has an ebony blade sticking in his heart like an Echelon pig.


At the next meeting of the Circle of Allies,  Eorge Wellton reports for a silent Traven on the business of the day, including the mental cleansing and probation of Star Blazer Prism, the collective apology from the Orthgon Imperium to the Circle and that body's acceptance, and the recent winning by mortal combat of the title "king of Orthgon" by Krom.

The 12-foot green ruler rises to great applause by most of the Circle.

"King Wellton?"

"The honored representative of the I'rhjats has the floor."

"At this time," King Flor Tkutjn begins, "and in keeping with the honorable co-Chair's report preceding, the people of I'rhjats  hereby formally rescinds its resolution of session last."

Tkutjn's request is approved by the Circle as the yellow monarch walks across the chamber floor to put his arm around the high, high shoulder of Krom.

As he does, the emerald war-hardened king says to Tkutjn: "You know, milord, it's not easy being green."




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