And so in the Elder Days it came to pass that a son was born unto a wealthy future King, who desired that his beloved progeny be kept safe from the ravages of the world. With food aplenty and lodging fair, the young lad spent his idyllic days making merry mischief, and many an amphibious toadling saw his wrath. Thereafter, the chump change of the once and future King's youth was spent in idle pleasures prevalent of that time, pleasures of the nose and of the liver, and he didst merry-make in the darker dens and taverns that dotted the territories claimed by the King.

The years did manifest their mournful march, but darker tidings ill-informed the boy's delightful days of aimless wonder. As war shook its frightful fist and laid low the men of the land, the rightful Prince was made to vanish for a time, safe from the enemies of the Kingdom, a happy lad at play with potions robust and powders Peruvian and most pure. The days were as of night, dark and obscure, and none dare recall them.

The Father, made King and justly triumphant, ruled the land with justice and mercy and profitable mien. Though vomitous haunted his meals most Oriental, and his surly mate did murk the mirror with her beautiful mind, he steadied his untoward legs, enough to stand and direct the uses of his army to squelch a former ally in the Land of Nod. Victorious and beloved, he returned his gaze to the land of his people, only to see the coin of the realm tremble and fall, silent. Bruised by the vagaries of commerce and debt, he then met on the battlefield a scurrilous and lecherous foe who sought his Kingdom, an opponent agile in the ways of words and mindful conflict. The King, his coinage spent, was laid low, forfeiting his Kingdom and his throne. The princely son, whose nose no longer vacuumed the twinkling crystals of the night, and whose lips had forsworn ale and mead and stronger vapors, saw his father ravaged and dismissed, and was thereafter sullen and forlorn.

Prior to these darker days, the Prince, endeavoring to fall upwards, was given one Yuletide a gift of stewardship of a Mighty Well, for to partake of the bounties of the earth. Alas, as unto an unconstant woman, the murky hole slammed shut, and no issuance was forthcoming. Undaunted, the Prince did appear among the people of a vibrant land deep inside the realm, and did make such use of their good fellowship that a great stadium was built with coins from their purses, and the Prince declaimed that God was good, so good a ranger such as he could increase his bounty with but a nod and a roar and a batter in a box.

With the gradual passing of the former days, it came as if by chance that a magician arrived to offer succor and hope to the Prince, so soon grown weary of his rounders. With conjurings and secret spells, the lad was given a Kingdom of a Single Star, wherein the Prince might practice his Rule of Thumb. It had been said a Silver Spoon was thrust into a swarthy bank account, and when removed would prove his rightful claim to the throne of power he not yet knew was rightfully his. Refreshed, replenished and full of purpose, he successfully removed the Silver Spoon and held it alot, declaring "Gawd is gud. Gawd is gud." Those who heard him cry did know him for a brother, and wished to drink of hops and malt with him, so regular was he. A man now sober and serene, he merely watched them, and wrinkled his nose, and did make funny nicknames and gruntings.

His magician, Rovan the Amoral, made scourings of the land, and with the Father's friends did chant incantations suited for the taking of the Mantle of Power. With stealth and guile, they made advantage of the slenderest of keyholes through which passage could be vouchsafed, as warlocks convened and said that it was so. With pulleys strong and cable fast the Prince was seated upon the throne, and a new King led the land. He looked upon the world as his, and called it gooder.

But ill tidings came from afar: Bin Mordred, a blacksheeped dark goat of his father's allies, who had come of the Oiled Ones but bucked and glowered until finally dismissed into the family nethers--he vanished in wars both hard and fierce, and lurked and haunted in canyons and broken rubble, ever plotting evil deeds. Bitter enemy to those who blocked the return of the Caliphate, he looked across the vast ocean and saw his Royal Cousin Brother King in power glorious and robust, and pondered the uses of such a compatible foe. The newly crowned King ignored him, for malcontents in rags and beards do not the monarchs of glory impress.

Beyond the horizon, Bin Mordred bleated and glowered, and bid the raw young men who listened to his utterings to "...prepare for deeds most foul and fierce." He let fly his fortress of Holy fighters to spread their madness in the New World, and structures vast and impervious buckled in their apocalyptic fury. Many of the New World's people journeyed to the Land of the Dead that bright and sunny day, the land where Kings and peasants cry. In the clouds and ash, Rovan and the Second King, the Dick of Chain, measured the wind, both nodded at the wombs of fury now impregnated with disease: new wars waited to be born.

In the New World, upon the broken city stood the King, who raised his arms to God, and called for Revenge most swift and righteous. No greater glory for a King, to stand upon the rubble, and vow to vanquish the enemies of the Land.

End of Part 1

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