[I wrote this story while I was an avid player of Travian, an online city-building game set in the war-torn Dark Ages. It wasn't all that long ago but I'm classing it as juvenilia because of its tone.]
Chapter I
The four men sat around the bonfire, facing into its orange light, contemplating the day’s carnage.
“Fires burn a lot of wood,” said the eldest. He shook his head slowly and stroked his beard.
“Yes, and water is wet,” said a younger man, slightly annoyed. “Are you going to tell us what color the sky is now?”
The youngest and brightest of the haeduans cut in, “Still your tongue! The old-timer has seen plenty and it is our privilege to share his wisdom.”
The miner spoke up. “Is there any more bread?” He probably shouldn’t have interrupted the haeduans, but he was hungry. He had only gotten employment in the town upon the upgrade of the main iron mine, which occurred midway through the celebration of that day's big victory. So he had missed most of the party.
"Who the devil are you?" asked the irritable haeduan.
"I'm Steve," said the miner, who was beginning to realize his misstep. "I'm new."
"Your name is Steve?" the haeduan squawked. He was sick of new hires blundering around the village.
"Yes, Steve," said the miner. "Is that odd?"
The youngest of the haeduans was ignoring this, scanning the palisade for possible flaws or invaders. The eldest sat stroking his beard. Their irritable comrade wasn't giving up. He replied with, "Well, I'd kind of expected something more ... you know ... Gallic."
"Like what?" Steve asked.
"Well, you know, like Vercingtorix, or ... Archaeopteryx." At this point the youngest of the haeduans burst in to laughter. Steve thought he was being mocked and hurried back to the mine, red-faced. "That guy was an imbecile," continued the irritable haeduan, whose name was Jeff.
After a decent pause Chad, the eldest of the haeduans, continued again. "Such bold consumption of wood bodes ill for our little village."
Chad's high hopes that he wouldn't be interrupted were dashed again by Jeff's familiar sneer. "Little village? Our village is bigger than it ever has been. Why, four new miners and six new ceramacists have joined our village this very day."At this point Dennis, the youngest haeduan, grew impatient. "Come now, comrade Jeff, the old-timer isn't done. Our village is smaller than three others within an hour's walk. Let him finish."
Chad nodded and continued. "Gentleman, I have grave doubts about our leader. It seems to me that, trusted and revered though he may be, he has made error after error, strategically. He sent us twice to an abandoned village that was obviously being raided by our neighbors from BIZKIT4EVERlol Villa and iamasamuriwarrior Vi. We came back empty-handed -"
"Nonsense!" He was cut off by the ornery Jeff. "My steed carried three bars of iron, and Dennis brought home a sack of flour."
Dennis was embarrassed for his friend. He stared into the flames. "More of a pouch, actually," he said softly.
Chad opened his eyes. "Jeff, please listen. I am completely loyal to cheetOHMunky94, I simply regard some of his errors as the mistakes only a total novice would make."
Jeff stood up. Both Dennis and Chad grew uneasy. An angry haeduan could be a grave peril. "Are you calling our very own cheetOHMunky94 a noob?" Jeff growled.
Just then the sound of a triangle rang out. It was Imelda the bakery matron. She stuck her head out of the window and called toward the bonfire. "Friends, it's time to feed the prisoners. There's a sackful of day-olds just inside the door."
The haeduans got up, grateful that something had broken the tension between Chad and Jeff. They collected the sack and dropped a small, hard loaf into each of the half-dozen pits strewn around the village, each of which contained a very uncomfortable Teuton.
The final pit contained a clubswinger named Timmy. He called up through the gloom in a stentorian Germanic basso, "Aww, don't you have any baguette?"
Dennis spun around and furrowed his brows. "Baguette...? No." Chad appeared to ignore the whole matter and Dennis didn't search Jeff's face for a reaction.
The basso called back from the pitfall, "Oh, but I hate pumpernickel. I get captured by Gauls, I want French bread!"
Dennis started to grin but Jeff was incensed, as usual. He marched over to the pitfall and got down on one knee. "Look, you foul-smelling noob, we didn't bake that bread. The Teutonic Red Cross delivered it to our bakery this morning, just like they did yesterday. You can thank your countrymen for the fine quality of your fare, thank you very much."
Chapter II
cheetOHMunky94 sat alone in his room playing Runecape. He had gotten his Dwarvish Jedi up to the 221st level, only to have him ambushed a Mountain Troll. He felt that the Mountain Troll was obviously cheating, since at a crucial moment in the duel he was able to summon a pair of caped Nihilists with an Electricity Charm. "Mtn trollz cant do electrictiy chrams u haxx!!" he typed angrily, as the Nihilists brandished their enormous crystalline katanas. As he dispatched the enormous purple Nihilists, the Mountain Troll emptied three (3) clips from his 5.56mm Steyr assault rifle into his caped, lightsabre-wielding character.
The screen went black. cheetOHMunky94 shook his fist at the sky. "My character is dead, never to swing a lightsabre again! If only someone, somewhere would create a massively-multiplayer online roleplaying game in which the player could simply log in again and revive any dead character at the touch of a button...." His thoughts trailed off as he sadly powered off the computer and stood up. He put on an old t-shirt and walked into the chilly night air.
The victory celebration had long since ended. Imelda and her junior bakers were walking among the tables, sweeping crumbs onto the ground and generally cleaning up. The haeduans were nowhere to be seen, having left in a huff after Timmy's culinary critique. Steve the hungry miner ran past the cheetOHMunky94's house just as the leader stepped out.
"Who are you, and why are you in such a hurry?" cheetOHMunky94 asked. He was used to new people arriving in the village every few minutes, and while he never actually learned their names, he felt he should at least act like he cared.
"I'm Steve, the new miner," he said as he skidded to a halt and turned around. cheetOHMunky94 wasn't dressed like the others, and Steve was curious. "I'm hungry, and looking for some leftovers from the celebration. Who might you be?"
"What, don't you know? I'm cheetOHMunky94, your leader. I would have thought you could guess that."
It suddenly made sense to Steve. The outlandish outfit cheetOHMunky94 was wearing - a t-shirt, sneakers, and jeans three sizes too big - was obviously the regalia of a respected village boss. Before that moment Steve had never seen one. He immediately went down on a single knee and thrust his arms outward in the traditional Gallic gesture of respect. In that posture he was no taller than cheetOHMunky94. "Oh, good sir, I did not realize it was you. It is my honor to make your acquaintance," he said breathlessly.
"Yeah, whatever," said the leader, turning away. He moved over to where the outdoor tables were being broken down. He addressed Imelda, "Say, are there any cupcakes left?"
The next morning, it was time to feed the prisoners again, and the Haeduans were assigned that task. The three walked in a small group, continuing their discussion from the previous evening.
Jeff's mood was better since his digestion had improved. "Like it or not, cheetOHMunky94 is the only leader we've got. We'd best serve him well."
"Aye," Chad replied.
Dennis shook his head. "I'd rather serve him by raiding Gandaltehpowerfl Vil. That village hasn't grown in a week. I'm certain it's full of riches beyond compare. And Teutons can't really defend themselves...."
At this moment they were passing right above the pit containing Timmy, who had been listening intently. While most of the Teutons were half asleep on their twin-size Red Cross issue mattresses, Timmy had been doing squats all morning, and was quite alert. "Hey, I heard that! We Teutons are brave on defense as well as offense."
"Yes," Jeff laughed. "On offense, you steal bravely from the defenseless. On defense, you die bravely on Gallic swords. Pumpernickel?" He tossed down a loaf. Timmy stuffed it into his mouth so as not to have to think of a comeback.
Dennis wasn't finished. "Gentlemen, are we certain there is no way we could make the raid ourselves? ... On our own initiative? Surely the leader wouldn't mind if we returned with goods."
"No," said Jeff. "I say we just march into his house and give him a piece of our minds. We're the best warriors he has. He'll have to listen!"
Chad shook his head and said firmly, "Banish the thought, young comrades. We'll simply have to wait, and pray to the Dagda that our leader be enlightened. There is no other way, for there is no other possible leader for our humble village." Timmy strained to hear the conversation from his underground vantage point.
"Hush up men," Dennis hissed. "It's the leader," he pointed in the direction of the approaching cheetOHMunky94, who face was smeared with frosting.
----
Chapter III
cheetOHMunky94 had summoned most of the village's warriors to the rally point. He wanted to order a big raid, and quickly. He was bored and feared his men were getting bored too.
A few dozen men gathered around their leader as he wiped off the frosting and cleared his throat. Chad and Dennis were apprehensive but the rest looked excited.
"Uhh ... okay guys. It's time to raid a place we've never raided before. It's a little village some Gauls abandoned a few days ago. It's called SmugSmogSmug, and I'm sure it will be filled with treasure for the taking!"
It was a rousing speech by the standards of cheetOHMunky94 Villa. Some of them men raised their swords in the air.
cheetOHMunky94 went on. "I'll want Haeduans and Druidriders in the first wave, Swordsmen in the second. I want to gather as much of their stuff as possible before those jerks from iamasamuriwarrior Vi get it." He looked around. "Okay ... you can go now."
The men eyed each other a little. The rally slowly dissolved as men prepared for departure. Dennis, Jeff, and Chad were joined by the village's other four Haeduans and the three Druidriders at the stable. The men had gathered weapons and were leading their horses back to the rally point. As they saddled up, Dennis was suddenly stricken by a question about human anatomy. "Chad, do you remember what the three bones in the human ear are called?"
Chad stroked his beard, as he usually did. "Oh, well, one's called the anvil, and another's called the hammer, and the third one doesn't have a name." Dennis took in the man's wisdom, as did one of the Druidriders in earshot, a man named Biff.
The men brought their horses to a canter and rode for a half hour solid, until Chad called a halt. He was the senior warrior, and had the authority to do so, but the other men were a bit surprised. He sidled his horse to face his comrades and spoke up. "Men, I have grave doubts about the journey were undertaking. I fear that SmugSmogSmug may be a death trap for raiders."
Jeff was appalled. "What on earth are you talking about? It's an abandoned village! What could possibly be there to threaten us? Rats?"
"Surely you know there are nonliving things a Gaul can use to stop a raid. And we've all heard the rumors." Chad spoke slowly and gravely. He looked around and noted the Haeduans nodding sagely. Then he noted blank stares in the faces of the Druidriders. He addressed Biff: "Have you not heard the rumors?"
"Apparently not," said Biff, with a toss of his long hair. "We don't hear too much from raiders. We're busy ... a lot." None of the Haeduans had any idea what he was talking about. cheetOHMunky94 Villa hadn't been attacked in weeks. But they let the matter drop.
Chad spoke up, and chose his words carefully. "Before word got out that SmugSmogSmug was abandoned, this area was crawling with Roman raiders. Legionnaires, Imperians, horsemen. And now they're all gone! They haven't been killed defending their towns, and they haven't been raiding anyone with an army. So where did they go. When's the last time you saw a Roman?" The other warriors shrugged. The Romans had picked every Gallic village in the region clean, except cheetOHMunky94 Villa. Chad had a good point.
James spoke up, "Chad, if you're suggesting we abandon this mission, you're a traitor, and you'll end up underground with the Teutons." He stopped short. He'd made his point, and most of the warriors nodded in agreement.
"Of course not, young comrade," said Chad calmly. "I only recommend extreme caution. We'll not gallop into this village, and we'll not howl a battlecry. We'll go in dismounted, slowly, not tearing around the village looking for someone to beat on. There probably won't be anyone."
The other warriors could hardly disagree. It was another forty minutes ride to the outskirts of SmugSmogSmug. As promised, it was just about deserted. The remnants of a small fire implied that perhaps a few peasants scratched in the fields occasionally and huddled at night, but the buildings were tumbling down. Anyone who lived there would be well out of sight.
The men led their horses to the stable, which was in comparatively good shape. They left the youngest of the Druidriders, a skinny whelp named Viv, as a guard, and started up the main street with Chad in the lead. "Anyone here?" he called out. "We demand food and supplies. If we receive them, we'll harm no one."
There was no reply. The men came to an intersection; off to their left lay what looked like a warehouse. The top had clearly burned slightly, but it looked promising. They started up the street, and Chad repeated his call.
This time, to their surprise, a voice called out in return. The warriors were startled at first, but quickly realized there was no danger. It was a thick Italian accent, somewhat muffled, but the Gauls could understand it nonetheless. "'Ey mate, do you fink you could lend a fellow gentleman a hand?" The voice seemed to coming from an upturned wagon in front of a small woden building.
Chad turned to face his men. "Dennis, Jeff, sheath your swords and help me turn over the wagon. You others, stay ready." The men did as they were told. The three had little trouble turning over the flimsy vehicle. Underneath it lay a man in a starched collar and tights, with a jerkin over a finely-woven doublet. His flat cap lay off to the side, its feather shamefully bent and lying in the dirt. He was the very picture of a proud Roman Imperian, or he would have been, had he not been trussed up head to toe in twine.
The Haeduans staggered backwards in shock. What kind of bizarre place was this? Biff's heart raced and he backed against the building; it was his first raid. The helpless Imperian blushed a little, and started to speak. "The rest o' my maniple's aroun' here, I reckon. The blokes an' I fought we was gonna have an easy time of it, y'know, this village bein' abandoned and all." He trailed off.
Jeff finally broke the silence, "How long have you been here?"
Another man answered in the same Italian accent. "I've been 'ere free days. Nigel down there - he was a'ready here!" This voice came from above Biff, apparently from the roof of the small building. Dennis and Chad crossed the street to get a better look at the roof. There they saw a similarly dressed Roman also bound tightly in twine, lying on the edge of the roof.
Dennis lost his patience, "Okay, Romans, we'll let you go if you'll just explain to us what on Earth is going on here?" Chad gave him a brief look and took charge. After freeing Nigel and assigning Biff to watch him, he directed the Haeduans to hoist Dennis on the roof to free the second Roman, who was named Alistair.
After dusting themselves off and stretching sore muscles, the Romans directed the Gauls to a well. Alistair called down, "You blokes fancy a lift?"
A cheer rang up from the dry well. "Hip-hip ... HUZZAH" came three voices. These men looked even paler and unhealthier than the Imperians. They wore the traditional muffin caps and simple jerkins of the Legionnaires. They were glad to be free.
Since they were unarmed and half-starved, the Gauls let the wretches wander the village. By the time the swordsmen from cheetOHMunky94 Villa arrived, 67 Roman soldiers had been freed. They related that they had had nothing to eat for days or weeks, except for a single loaf of focaccia apiece, brought by dirty peasant children in the night. As they started to relax, the briefly discussed the villages they were from, and that they had been sent on material raids, though that was obvious.
Biff probed for more information. "Were you defeated? Trussed up at knifepoint by warriors?"
Alistair was leaning against a shed hoping to regain his strength. He said, "No sirrah. All of us was caught in some kinda pitfall. The dirty Gauls - beggin your pardon, good sirs, but they were plenty unwashed - came out of the woods, plucked us out the traps one by one in the most infernal net fings ... then they done bound us fast in this hateful twine."
Jeff was as bewildered as most of the Gauls, only angrier. "But who would do such a thing?" he cried.
The Romans who were gathered around him thought it was a very funny question. "Wot you askin' us for?" one replied as he lay on his side rubbing welts the twine had left in one arm. "You're the Gaul!"
Biff addressed Jeff, "You know, he does have a point."
"But it's so strange, though. Who would build dozens of traps to defend a town with next to nothing in it worth stealing?"
The question weighed heavily on all the men's minds as they headed for home.
----
Chapter IV
cheetOHMunky94 dismissed the swordsmen, who clearly knew very little, and addressed his cavalry at the rally point. "So you guys're, like, telling me all you found in SmugSmogSmug was a bunch of stupid Romans and no treasure?" He was irritated and stared at Dennis for no particular reason.
The Haeduan felt the need to speak and blurted, "Sir, I actually don't fink -". He stopped short and cleared his throat. "Sir, I don't ... think they were particularly incompetent. Just unlucky. The Imperians I spoke with were from Nova Roma, governed by a tribune named Tacitus."
cheetOHMunky94 searched his memory to place the name, but all he could picture were stone trolls with assault rifles. "Were other villages represented?" he asked, resting his eyes on the only Haeduan he really recognized, Chad.
Chad spoke up. "Well, sir, yes. I spoke with a member of the Equites Imperatoris from the village of...." He paused and flushed a little. "They were from Tha ShugaShak."
"And their leader?"
Chad cleared his throat and looked at the dirt. "They are led by LUVmuffn42."
cheetOHMunky94 sat down on a woden stool. His blood-sugar levels had been varying widely over the last few days, not surprising in a diet entirely lacking in meat and vegetables. He addressed his troops once again, "Do you have any idea why we got no treasure?"
Chad was annoyed by the term "treasure" used to describe lumber, grain, and clay, but he answered anyway. "It seems that after the Romans had filled up all the traps, the village kept getting raided. Several of them said they could here men moving through the village, shouting ... 'ows geh tsike nut' or something."
Timmy replied from his trap. "They were saying ausgezeichnet"; he had apparently been listening the whole time. "It means "excellent" in German. You got beaten by my brave, physically-fit countrymen. Ha ha ha."
Jeff had had enough. He marched over dramatically and began bellowing down at the Teuton, all sorts of gibberish that no one could understand.
cheetOHMunky94 was taken aback, not at the lack of military discipline, just in the rawness of Jeff's emotional state. He looked at Chad and asked, "Do you ... know what's up with that guy?"
Chad looked a little sad. "Coeliac disease," he replied briefly.
cheetOHMunky94 frowned and nodded. He inhaled and wished he were playing Runecape, wished his beloved Jedi were still alive. He faced his troops and tried to think of something bombastic and stirring. "Okay, guys, uhh, we should avoid SmugSmogSmug, and raid other places. Yeah. Dismissed."
----
Chapter V
"Wakey wakey, dear leader." It was Imelda's voice. She remembered it was Kickoff Day, the appointed day to kickoff the election season. Until then, cheetOHMunky94 didn't. He rubbed his eyes, sat up, and looked around. The tall halogen lamp was leaning against the wall and he wasn't sure why, but he thought it was probably a bad thing. He got up and walked over to the window, stubbing his toe on a Fender Squier six-string he'd never learned to play.
"Oh, thanks, Imelda," he mumbled. He dressed, picked up his notepad, and went outside. Almost everyone in the village was assembled at the rally point, waiting for him. Their cloaks were open or discarded, as the late summer sun had warmed the air. cheetOHMunky94 went to the center of the circle and began reading aloud in his usual bored, woden voice. "Okay, umm, it's time for all nominations for the position of leader ... I nominate myself ... any other nominations?"
He didn't have time for even a perfunctory pause before someone actually answered his question. "I nominate Timmy!" The voice came from one of the traps. The Gauls looked surprised, while cheetOHMunky94 didn't really comprehend. Chad hurried to his leader's side to spare the embarrassment, as Gauls began gathering around the trap that wouldn't keep quiet.
"Dear leader, sir, it appears that the Teutonic prisoners are attempting to enter one of their own in the election." He spoke softly and sadly.
At that moment cheetOHMunky94 had his first real thought of the day, something along the lines of I'm doomed. "Oh my gosh," he spluttered. "Since there's technically nothing in the rules preventing a POW from running for election, we're going to have to allow it!" He'd never actually run against anyone in an election before, and his heart was filled with dread.
Chad pulled a small booklet from a leather pouch on his belt. "Actually, dear leader, it looks like it [i]is[/i] against the rules," Chad replied, shaking his head and frowning in spite of himself. "Right here on p. 4-03, 'No enemy prisoner shall vote or run in any election'. See?"
By the time Chad looked up from the rule book, cheetOHMunky94 had shuffled across the rally point to the trap, where Torvald the Teuton was discussing his politics with a group of curious Gauls above his head. "It's true, Timmy would make a fine leader - of Gauls or Teutons! His biceps are enormous, he has extensive experience modelling buckskin leggings, and he has a stentorian voice which can inspire men to do great deeds!"
cheetOHMunky94 had never been much for vocabulary lessons, and he wasn't particularly shy about it. "What does 'stentorian' mean?" he asked down into the hole. Few of the Gallic villagers shifted their gaze to him.
Torvald grunted slightly. "It means, his voice isn't flat and woden like yours. No offense."
cheetOHMunky94 considered that for a second. "Well, I guess if Timmy the Teuton is going to challenge me, we should let him out of his hole." At this comment both Timmy and Chad beamed joyfully, though cheetOHMunky94 didn't notice.
The operation to free Timmy should probably have been routine, but cheetOHMunky94 decided to supervise. A large set of scaffolding on wheels was rolled from the siege workshop to the space over Timmy's trap. A complex rope-and-harness arrangement dangled from a central beam. Dennis and Steve lined it up on solid ground, but cheetOHMunky94 decided it was off center and told them to move it. They dutifully did so, until one of the wheels was positioned on the fresh spoil where a groundhog had dug. As soon as the smiling Teuton had put on his harness and given the okay to the team of miners and haeduans assigned to hoist up his massive frame, the wheel began sinking into the soft brown spoil.
Dennis noticed it at once and spoke up. "Dear leader, sir! See now where that wheel sinks in. The whole structure will tip."
Something had fallen into one of cheetOHMunky94's eyes and he was cursing fate for having not provided him with a mirror and a cotton swab. "Oh, yeah, that sucks," he said, rubbing his eye.
A few more pulls on the rope and Timmy's head and shoulder had appeared. Unfortunately, as this happened more weight shifted to the wheel over the groundhog mound. In a few moments the angled stress on the undercarriage did its damage, and the scaffolding toppled over. The men instinctively let go of the rope and Timmy fell back into its hole. Eventually, the entire trap had to be destroyed to free him, with a long, sloping ramp cut into one of its sides. Timmy timed his ascent from the trap beatifully, with a bevy of recently-enfranchised Gallic bakery wenches looking on.
His oiled, musclebound form appeared at the top of the ramp as Dennis and Chad watched. "Any idea how he's in such good shape after seven weeks at the bottom of a pit?" Dennis asked, trying not to show his jealousy.
Chad stroked his beard and spoke slowly. "It's just the way the Teutons are, lad."
----
Chapter VI
cheetOHMunky94 and Timmy stood at roughhewn podiums facing one another as the Gauls crowded around. cheetOHMunky94 wore a clean t-shirt and jeans; Timmy was shirtless and wore buckskin leggings. Torvald stood at Timmy's side, just as Biff stood at cheetOHMunky94's. Chad stood in between and addressed the crowd. "This is the first of a series of one debate between our nominees for leader. The rules of the debate are, No hitting your debating opponent with a sword, axe, or any other weapon."
This seemed like a pretty lengthy and complex list of rules to the villagers, but they remained mostly quiet with only a few grumbles. Chad continued, "Per the toss of the iron rod, the first nominee to speak shall be Timmy the Teuton."
Timmy cleared his throat and spoke up. "Friends, Gauls, captors, lend me your ears." Fortunately, none of the audience took the last part literally. "I come among you, you fine Haeduans, miners, clay workers, woodcutters, riders of Druids, phalanges. You have treated me and mine so well over the last seven weeks, feeding me regularly, and allowing me to run in this noblest of institutions, the election."
He paused for effect, but cheetOHMunky94 interrupted him. "Gaffe! That guy totally made a gaffe! Druidriders are druids who ride, not people who ride druids!" He guffawed a bit and Biff frowned. "Nobody rides druids! Do you think a druid is a kind of horse?" cheetOHMunky94 trailed off, hoping the audience would pelt Timmy with wheat berries or at least laugh. The front row of the audience shifted uncomfortably.
Timmy took the pause as a signal to continue. "I now come before you to show you my gratitude - I aim to lead my adopted village to glory and wealth! Lumber, iron ... riches! Every baker-woman in this town should be rolling in wet clay!" Several female members of the audience blushed at the thought. No one could take their eyes off of this orator. "And the wealth is available to us in countless places ... it only remains to be taken." He looked at cheetOHMunky94.
"A druid isn't a kind of horse!" said cheetOHMunky94 gleefully. Timmy kept his mouth shut and waited for the rest of the rebuttal. CheetOHMunky94 beamed proudly at the crowd and the Teuton observed him steadfastly, arms clasping each side of the podium.
After the silence became unbearable, Chad addressed cheetOHMunky94: "Is your rebuttal complete, dear leader?"
CheetOHMunky94 thought that was a silly question. "Well, sure! What else is there to say?"
Chad turned to Timmy. "And are you finished?"
"I have a brief closing statement," he replied, and turned to face the crowd once again. "Naturally, there are differences between our communities. We eat pumpernickel, you eat baguette. We ride horses, you ride ... Gaulish horses." His momentum was lost for a second.
Torvald whispered into his ear. "Scouting! 'We scout on foot ...'"
Timmy inhaled and continued. "We scout on foot, your noble pathfinders ride the winds of destiny to find riches. And find it you will, with me at your helm! I urge you to put our minor differences aside and vote for me. That is all." He stepped down from the podium gracefully and walked off, with Torvald at his side. CheetOHMunky94 practically skipped away.
When the votes had been counted the totals were: Timmy - 153 votes, cheetOHMunky94 - 11 votes. The haeduans drew straws as to who would tell their former leader.
----
Chapter VII
When Timmy heard the results he and Torvald hurried back to the rally point to make his first few decrees to those who had just voted. "For my first decree, all Teutonic prisoners shall be freed." A loud cheer went up from the surrounding pit traps. Torvald whispered in his ear. Timmy continued, "... Except those from skwishi Village." Scattered groans could be heard from the pit traps. "All freed Teutons shall be taught to fight in the Gaulish manner and to ride...." He stared at the ground in disbelief for a second. "All Teutons shall be trained as druidriders if they so desire."
Biff spoke up sheepishly. "Oh, dear leader, I don't think Teutons will likely be qualified to be druidriders. We kind of have to raised from birth." He looked at the other Gauls and shrugged. Timmy looked uncomprehending. Biff spoke again: "We have ... skills no one else has. Skills beyond fighting."
Timmy was curious, but didn't want to seem disrepectful of his new people's customs. "Oh, that is fine, we can train Teutons as haeduans instead, but what sort of skills do you mean?"
At this point everyone looked at Biff, demanding answers. "We have a lot of ... extramilitary activities which are a secret only to druidriders. At most, only the leader should know." Timmy nodded to Biff and dismissed the meeting, to the great disappointment of the Gauls.
Dennis having drawn the shortest straw, Jeff and Chad escorted Timmy to his new home. Upon entering, Timmy picked up the Fender guitar. "This is without a doubt the most beautiful war-club I have ever seen. It is inlaid with raised silver thread!"
The Gauls contemplated it with detachment. At least our leader is happy with one aspect of his home, Jeff thought cheerfully.
After admiring the guitar for a considerable time, and grasping the headstock for a few practice swings which were just shy of braining Jeff, Timmy looked around. His eyes lit upon a Korn poster. "Your leader ... was a collector of the strangest and most beautiful art I have ever seen." His voice had lost its grandeur and had taken a sort of childlike awe.
Chad spoke up, "Our former leader spent quite a lot of time at this desk. That box there," he said, indicating the computer, "It glows, and gives the leader hours of pleasure and valuable information."
Timmy regained his composure, and addressed Chad with a steely countenance. "Can you show me how to use it?"
Jeff spoke up from where he was looking at the window. "Dear leader, a group of bakery-wenches approaches. Shall I let them in?"
At that moment Timmy faced an extremely difficult decision. His mighty brow furrowed with the burden of choice.
----
Chapter VIII
Dennis ran up to Jeff and Chad outside Timmy's residence. "He's gone! He disappeared," he said breathlessly.
Jeff folded his arms in irritation and leaned against the wall. "Who's gone?" he asked.
"CheetOHMunky94!" Dennis replied. "When I told him he'd lost the election, he just disappeared!"
Chad looked interested. "Did he just run away?"
"No! Disappeared! He just ... winked out!" Dennis was starting to realize he sounded crazy.
"Where was he?" asked Chad skeptically.
"He was over there, near the barracks. He seemed really happy when I came up to him, but when I told him the news there was this bright light sparkling around his feet, and this funny smell, and then he was gone." Dennis turned away, assuming the others would follow.
The went back to barracks. Dennis pointed to a spot. The feint smell of ozone lingered in the area. They could they the faint outlines of two footprints impressed into the scorched soil.
A solemn look came over Chad's face. "He fortold this. He said, 'I am not from your world. I rely on your support for my existence here.' I fear he is gone forever."
Dennis went pale. "Do you mean ... we killed him ... by voting against him?"
Chad shook his head. "No lad. He is simply banished from our world. There is no corpse, after all. He simply has no more reason to be."
[This story remains unfinished.]
