The Wonder Worlock: Magical Mystery Tour, Part 2

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Posted by: Byron Brewer, Managing Editor
created 04/05/2013 - 4:25pm



(Cover by Jim O’Riley)


As Dona warns her fellows that this is indeed Thaumaturge and not their mentor the Wonder Worlock, black oceans rain down inside the headquarters of these Star Blazers, heroes of the Threlkellian Empire, on the planet Olympiadimensions from Earth.

The rain is inside.

Speed of lightning, roar of thunder and Dona is outta there, courtesy of Whiz. “What now, chief?” he asks the still-puzzled blonde.

This is what Zavar and the Dark Mage have been training us … me … for,Dona thinks. Time to earn your title “praetor,” Dona!

“Smoke has already seen to the safety of Zavar and will be back shortly,” Dona barks out, a natural-born leader. “Tery! Tornado! Gimme a fast-ball special now!”

Out of the whirling winds of the Inhuman Tornado comes Terysaur, pride of the Aerie, his sharp wings and claws tearing into the “Dark Mage” (really a disguised Thaumaturge, ancient sorcerer of the dead world Rubicon IX) before the wizard can erect even personal shields.

“AAARRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!” he screams. It has been a long, long time since Thaumaturge was in a battle of this nature. To win last time, he destroyed his wife and world.

As he tumbles, the mage casts a spell of illusion and transforms into an Orthgonan Saleur’pon, an amphibious rhino with horns on every side like a porcupine.

Prism is swift to counter his lightning, but upon sight of one of her childhood nightmares the SB screams and her cobalt construct shrivels.

It is then that Thaumaturge in Worlock’s clothing hears a sound, a sound so sweet he drops the illusion of a Saleur’pon and makes himself vulnerable to a vortex imprisonment courtesy of Whiz.

Master, it calls, master!

“By the Rings of Randak!” Thaumaturge exclaims into the winds. “’Tis the blue heart of the Ruby of Reality, still extant after all these centuries. It shall be mine, MINE!!!”

Erecting a shield so strong it may be mistaken for that of Survok, master of the Shamans of faraway N’Moy, Thaumaturge grabs Prism with a Guided Muscle of his own as the young girl gasps.

“Where did you acquire this stone, whore! How did you get it to embrace you when I am here? Are you in league with the Rock Trolls?? With Ymok??! Did you help destroy my world, kill my wife??!!”

Master, it calls, master!

As he grasps Prism, he brings into play the Pinchers of Power. Like a businessman getting ice for his drink, he deftly uses the esoteric tongs to grasp the cobalt cosmic stone from Prism’s hand. It will not budge.

“Very well, since I am in the Wonder Worlock’s form, I will use his own knowledge to get the rock from that bitch!” Thaumaturge says as the SBs strain and struggle against his barrier, Dona hitting it with blows that could crack a moon and more! “From what he seems to call ‘Old Ways,’ I summon … the Net of Niflheim!”

Immediately, a net of solid ice, colder than anything ever seen in this dimension, wraps itself around Prism, freezing the young girl as well as the arm of Thaumaturge.

Dona points, and the SB called Flame unleashes his star fires through an unbreakable cosmic rod of his own design. The blazes darken Thaumaturge’s barrier but have little effect on the eldritch Net of Niflheim.

Flame ups the ante, tapping into the Soulfire as taught him by the Dark Mage himself, and the Net from the Old Waysdissipates into so much steam.

Up, up, up Prism flies, catching Thaumaturge-in-Worlock-form unawares in an emerald pyramid construct. The magician seems baffled, and at that time Dona with her eye beams and Tery with his blasters strike with tremendous blows as Prism lifts the pyramid. Thaumaturge is thrown off-balance; just the moment the savage Wolfin has been waiting for.

“Rrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!” is the only sound that emanates from the SB as his berserker rage takes over. He claws at the wizard’s stolen ebon garb, and Thaumaturge has trouble concentrating.

Master, master, Prism can hear her cobalt stone screaming. With that last call, the stone loosens itself from her grasp as she falls from the skies. The Inhuman Tornado captures Prism in the parts of his limbs still solid as the cosmic stone finds a home in the grasp of the necromancer.

“Now you are mine, Heart of the Ruby!” Thaumaturge cackles.


Floating in a land of no where, not even the lighted forms of the Nexus of All Realities to find his way.

Nothing, nothing.

This is where the Wonder Worlock finds himself now.

There is nothing, no time, one moment failing to slip into another.

And yet the Wonder Worlock is conscious, of that he is certain. This is not the Dream Dimension or Limbo.

He is in stasis, and all about him he feels the handiwork of the former Scientist Supreme of Olympia, Java Lyn.

Ah, Java, you were always the best at what you did, the Wonder Worlock compliments his old foe in thought.

Then he feels the aura of another old foe in this cottony strangeness: Thaumaturge the Master Mage!

“Zootalaris!” the celestial necromancer screams to no one. “It is I myself that am giving off that aura. I am in the body of Thaumaturge!!”

With that realization, memories sweep over his consciousness as he remembers being with Zavar in the SB HQ, helping to train Traven’s super-army. And then …

… Something about Prism and her cobalt stone, Thaumaturge and his Red Ruby of Reality … Mork … Ymok …the Frost Giants …

“Zootalaris, my old premonition has come to light! I was correct,” he says. “The cobalt stone is part of the Ruby of Reality … likely its heart!”

As with Thaumaturge, the Wonder Worlock begins freedom hex after freedom hex, escape spell after escape spell: all fall prey to the brilliant handiwork of Java Lyn.

Tiring, the wizard takes a huge risk, bows his (or is it Thaumaturge’s?) head low, and then releases his arms in tandem. A bolt of cosmic lightning cracks, there is a blink of reality and stench of brimstone, and the space bending powers of the Wonder Worlock returns Thaumaturge’s form to SB HQ!


Immediately, the Dark Mage is back in the headquarters of the Star Blazers and it is not too long before the Laws of Necromancy flash Thaumaturge back into his own form, and so too the Wonder Worlock.

It is then that the Wonder Worlock has the cobalt heart of the Ruby, which he tosses to a fallen Prism. “Take care of it, girl, as you have.”

Prism shakes her head, but hears nothing from the cosmic consciousness within the stone and so slowly takes it in her hand.

The two again are one!

Before Thaumaturge can teleport away, the Wonder Worlock calls on the Roving Rings of Randak to imprison their other servant, Thaumaturge.

“You threaten to capture me with the methods of Randak, my personal mentor? Bwahahahaha!!” Thaumaturge says, melting the rings like so many winter icicles on an early spring morning.

Blue Blades of Bedevilment empty from the hands of the Wonder Worlock, but they cannot penetrate Thaumaturge’s shield. Meanwhile, he erects a great crimson barrier again that keeps the SBs from the fight. Dona tries to melt it, Wolfin tries to break it and the Tornado looks for any minute openings, all to no avail.

The Dark Mage opens his billowing black cape and from there hurl heavy stones of volley ball size: The Rocks of Randak!

“Again with Randak, eh?” Thaumaturge beams, creating a Conjurer’s Cone which eats up the stones before they ever reach him. He then sends a cadre of Niflheim Knives the way of an astounded mage.

Zootalaris, he thinks, while in my form Thaumaturge has learned the Old Ways! D’ast!!

The Wonder Worlock sinks into the ground like Thaumaturge’s old enemies, the Rock Trolls, aiming to grab his feet from below. But as he begins to submerge, something in the Master Magician’s mind snaps, as it has before.

“Ymok! I knew that was you! I strike at you for my world, for my wife … for HER!!” Thaumaturge screams, unleashing an awesome cosmic bolt at the Wonder Worlock.

A still ebon form is all that is left of the wizard.

“Now Ymok, my final revenge. For me, for my world, for … her,” and blue cobalt fire springs from his hands and takes aim at the still form of the Wonder Worlock.

Dona looks at Prism, and suddenly the latter is seeking something within her stone. Deep her mind penetrates, and before Thaumaturge can unleash his worst chaos magicks, the Master Magician of Rubicon IX finds himself captive of the very rock he sought.

“… And there you shall remain, small man!” Prism laughs.


At the health facility of the GreatOlympianPalaceof Zavar, the telepath visits his just-conscious friend, the Wonder Worlock.

“It is not my call to be in a bed, in a healing facility,” the Dark Mage protests to the amusement of his significant other, Queen Arema of Oceanus, brought here by Dona just minutes ago, and the Star Blazers as well.

“Tell me, O Sir, how does it feel to be the one protected by your students for once?” Dona asks at great risk, suddenly wishing she had not.

Prism, Terysaur and even Wolfin wince.

“My training has done you ALLin excellent fashion,” the Wonder Worlock says in the mock blustery voice he sometimes uses to scare Captain Rand of the Goff. “I am to be congratulated.”


“But where did you learn so much with your cosmic stone?” the mage asks Prism.

“Me and Prima Dona have been practicing such things in the Panic Room, O Sir. I have known quite some time my rock may be related to the Ruby of Reality … but without it, I am just a girl from faraway Orthgona. So I wanted to make sure that I was master of it, not it of me.”

“Well done, my daughter,” Zavar says, and then the Wonder Worlock prepares to contact Traven about missed business at a recent meeting of the Circle of Allies.

Unseen by Tery’s sharp eyes or Zavar’s psi-senses is a brief second when Prism looks into her cosmic stone, suddenly her eyes glowing cobalt.

Free me, Mistress, free me, the stone says to only her.

All in good time, my precious, Prism thinks, with neither Zavar nor the Wonder Worlock the wiser.

… All in good time.


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