A hideous catastrophe written on
http://www.piratepad.net.
Written in realtime collab by Me, Matt, and David.
PROLOGUE:
SHEFF DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE BIRDS AND THE BEARS?
HUH? HUH? DO YA?
What is this birds and the bears? Can you show me?
Ask your mother, son. ... Actually. Don't. Bears are too violent a subject.
The birds and the bears...
They hold a vicious rivalry.
Perhaps rivalry is too soft a term.
Chaotic hatred, formed from generations of bloodlust and greed?
That will suffice.
It all began during the Cretaceous period. There was once a bear by the name of Beartholomew, and he was the hoariest of bears.
Please, John. Help me spin the tale. OF THE HOARY BEAR.
The hoary bear.
The old, wise hoary bear.
Who lived in his cave up in the Clamber mountains.
BLAST. I thought you knew the tale of Beartholomew.
CHAPTER 1
Beartholomew was a mighty warrior of old, the first of a long line of bearback riding bearhanded bearfighters.
Holfon was the leading bear. He rode his musky galliant steed through the magnificient berry fields of SOUTHINGWESTERLANDSMIRE where the Salmon-fanged rocket-manatees laid their fell traps underneath the heady burrberries. Beartholomew at his side, the two of them rode far into the wilderness of the berry fields. It was there that the Manatees' Meadhouse of yore was located, filled as it was with many a strange elixer and dark tincture, and that the King of Manamead long lurked. Far beyond the kingdom of Ramalama-ding-dongius the Second, Son of Halberdingdongius the Third, Brother of Strewth and Step-son to the great and magnificent Haggledybutt the Brothweaver, Wise Crone and Sage to Emperors.
The land was not a friendly one, darkened as it was by hoary skies, and eldritch mists, and the Manateemeadhouse was full of equally hoary and eldritch seacow brothers ready to defend the honour of the casks of Fishberry Crumblejuice, which supplied them with their precious manatee vitality and macho fertility. But Beartholomew and his forces knew of its unholy potency, and the magnificence it could grant the BearForce of his mighty bearmen and their seed, and their seed, and the children of bearwarriors for decades, nae, generations to come.
And lo, meanwhile, deep in the sea of Gramble-stank, Tagulonacular, the bear-king of all crablords, plotted his extremely suspicious vengence against the cold and uncaring surface bears. A gracious and benevolent albeit promiscuous rake of a ruler, Tagulonacular cared for his people, and would do anything for them, including snapping the necks of their dire-enemies, and ripping from them the evil war-bowels of unrighteousness. Many foes of the deeplockers feared his justice-claws and their claws, and their claws, and the claws of justice-claws for decades, nae, generations to come. Thoughout the depths, the war-cry of the crablords would echo: Braaaaachshshshscraaaawadoopdoop!!! And so it rang on and on through the endless halls of the crablordsdeep helm, and all trembled in fear and awe at Tagulonacular and his legions of fiendish and blood-thirsty crablordwarriors.
Beartholomew was not a fearing bear, nor a bear to relent to the threat of dire-harm and extremely suspicious vengeance from manatees nor crablords nor their fishberry crumblejuice, nor their fertility-claws, or their children's claws, or their children's children's claws, or their ancestors' claws of decades, nae, generations past.
Except for the one Ancestor Who Refused to Die, his name burnt forever upon the record of the time-epochs and steeped in legend, for no mortal man knew what it was. Only it was known that he had made a terrible and tremulous blood-deal with the time-epochs in return for another vowel-strand in the Dire-Wheel of Never-Fortunes. Alas, though he ended up with was _EA-CO_, he could not guess the word, and thus he was doomed to immortality until he could decipher this riddle, and was also given a limitless supply of snacklered crablord-cakes to ensure that this would be so. Alas he was exceedingly dim--although exceeding dim is a more old-timey way of spelling it--and thus lo, he roamed for many years, unable to open the negaplastic snacklered-crablord-cake seal-packaging, growing long in tooth and justice-claw, yet never did the light of life leave his eye. Hungry and estranged from the outside world, he devoured many a soul of evil undercreatures, feasting on their demise.
Thus did this one Ancestor Who Refused to Die become Beartholomew's gremlin, his Grendel, his gringo, his bug-a-boo, his bump in the night, the object of his fear and trepidation, and thus the object of his rage, for Beartholomew was a proud bear, the thing of bearwar story bearlegend, and did not easily consider that there was yet anything in the world that could frighten him, nor did he want to close his eyes, yea, even fall asleep, for he would miss the impending doom of the Ancestor, who they called, "you, taker of the bear baby, devourer of bearspring and bearsource," and he trembled to think that such a fiend would slip past him in the night, or the next night, or the night after that, or the nights for weeks, nae, years to come.
THE END
