8/15/2004 Dungnuggets part 1
Dungnuggets!!!!Religious clerics eons and eons ago came together at a truce table. You see, before then they fought for so long that the records were centuries dust since there was peace. There was no record for peace. In fact the word had actually fallen out of the collective dictionary of a language in flux. Nothing had been written for so long except military records. The brevity of each needed to be cut down for the scarcity of the paper. No scrap could be spared, it was too important, records must be saved. Too many resources devoted to war that there was no longer enough to feed the paper industry.
These Clerics were tired of death, tired of fighting. It wasn’t until one of them went a bit on the odd side. An illness as a child had left him slightly off in the head. But he was the only son left to inherit the chaos that was his country. The only thing holding his country together was the citizens almost godlike worship of his family. It was close to an old Egyptian style of government.
In the middle of a Battle at what was politely referred to as an operational pause (which is actually getting our shit back together after the real world stepped in on our battle plan.) He dropped his swords and armor, going naked out on to the battlefield, standing up in his saddle. He wobbled a couple of times on the way, but managed to make it all the way down to the bowl of the valley where all the death was. The other generals were in turn, amused, insulted, worried and intrigued.
One by one they, and only they saddled their horses and started down the slope. They however did not drop all their weapons and clothing. When they reached the bottom, they found the ill chieftain sitting cross legged on the dirt. He had spread a white cloth out in front of him and retrieved from his saddlebags the finest wine that his country still produced on occasion carried in the thickest leather skin. None of them missed the trademark givaway carried on the bottom of the most prized possession on the planet, a Thick Skin of Vyn. (the named had morphed in the couple hundred years since it began distilling the elixir. Th-in Vyn to the more stylized “Thvyn.”
There had been a minor skirmish between two of the countries over a bottle once, recently enough that it was still in memory.
“Intriguing” said Jar of House Kah, freehold clan. “Are you offering us drink, ser?” A slight twitch of his head, “My god! He is without clothes.”
Worry lines creased the forehead of the 2nd down the hill. Was this a trick? He had secreted a message for his archers to surreptitiously maneuver in to range of the gathering and he kept his horse tight against him. His troops were on edge behind him, skittishly ready to strike at the slightest rumor.
“Jackass” Genney swore and was immediately punished with the slightest rush of nausea. It had been happening a lot lately. Spitting the bile taste out of his mouth he paraded himself down.
A chuckle escaped the lips of the last General to arrive. “You old sack of dungnuggets, you’ve finally lost it.”
Thvyn of house Thvyn started up into the sun at them. An almost inaudible croak escaped his lips. A couple of the others heard it but didn’t comment. At length, Thvyn’s mouth opened again and this time a low but hypnotically soothing voice emerged. “Please stretch yourselves out. You’re limbs are too short. We need to encircle the earth.”