ReaderAt2046
2013-01-31, 07:48 PM
By the awesome power of my imagination, I have conjured up this glimpse into a possible future of the Stickverse, one possible outcome of a million, but the one perhaps more than any other that I hope to see. Read, enjoy, and let me know what you think! (Especially if you happen to be reading this, Mr. Giant. But please don't tell me whether or not it's what's going to happen. If (as is overwhelmingly likely), it's not, I knew that already and enjoy pretending for now. If by some blind chance it is right, or nearly right, that would be so suspence-killing.)
And now, without further ado, let us gaze into the darkened glass and see what we shall see.
__________________________________________________ ___________
It is the tenth anniversary of the signing of the pact of trade and peace known simply as the Accord, and eyes from all across the planes are focused on Therkla Isle, which sits near equidistant from the major signatory powers and has thus become a thriving center of trade. Dozens of important figures from two of the three major continents are united in feasting and celebration.
At the center of the feast, at a raised dais, sit representatives from the great countries. Lord Hinjo of the Azure Isles eats of finely prepared fish and drinks of the dwarvenwork ale that has already become one of the Isle’s greatest products. On Hinjo’s right sits Queen Haley Starshine of Sticktenstein, whose tiara is set with a dozen tiny luminous diamonds in echo of her name. At her right is King Elan, clad in the outlandish outfit of his other title-High Priest of Banjo. He and Shaman Vurkle eye each other oddly, for though they get along very well, being priests of the same religion, they are representatives of two gods that enjoy playing pranks on each other. Indeed, at this very moment a mixed table of Banjoites and Gigglers are breaking out into a mashed-paturnip duel, while another table of Banjoites draw pictures of Banjo hitting Giggles over the head, make them into paper airplanes, and send them flying to Giggler tables, who send their own picture-planes right back.
Continuing along the circle, we come to the Mayor of Cliffport, who is eating and drinking freely, as his plump frame reveals is his usual habit. In between bites, he chats amicably with his other dinner partner, Prime Minister Jirix of Gobbotopia. Next to Jirix is Chief Grukgruk of Therkla Isle, who is enjoying having all these visitors to his island. Beyond Chief Grukgruk is Arch-Tyranness Sabine of Linea, resplendent in sheer purple silks and dusky skin, though she has put on her human face for this public event. On her right, and rather ironically right next to Hinjo, is Nale, Arch-Tyrant of Linea, clad in crimson and gold and wearing a crown of steel, set with six inlaid bronze swords.
Radiating outwards from the dais sit all the other party guests. At the inner circle, just below the dais, six round tables are set. At one sit several children, present only because of the high rank of their parents. Crown Prince Halan of Sticktenstein and Tyrant-Heir Sserrik of Linea are whispering together of things Sserrik learned from her mother, and plotting how to get some alone time to try these things out. (Though Sticktenstein and Linea share a border, both originating from the divvying up of the old Empire of Blood (and the absorption of some other stretches of territory), their capitols are some distance apart, making secret visits impossible until Sserik masters her inborn teleportation abilities). Sserik’s younger brother, Tyrannet Lee, is amusing himself by making tiny mashed-potato people, chopping their heads off with his knife (or occasionally his half-fiend claws), and then feeding the “bodies” to his hellhound pup, Sparky. Princess Elley, by contrast, is trying to guess how much the various gems and robes on display are worth, and is currently scribbling figures for the Mayor of Cliffport’s green silk robes and shiny emerald jewelry. The youngest representative of each of the western houses, Tyrranet Cedric and Princess Lena, are not paying attention to much more than the presence of dinner.
At another table are seated some of the lesser members of the Azure Isles nobility. Roy Greenhilt, resplendent in the formal blue-and-gold dress uniform of the Commander-in-Chief of the Azure Isles military, is sitting next to the equally pimped-out Grand Admiral of the Azure Navy, Lien. Also seated are Daigo and Kazumi Kato, and their eldest son, Dazumi, and O-Chul, who is serving as the day-to-day head of the Sapphire Guard.
The buzz of feasting is interrupted by Lord Hinjo rising. Shifting from a mug of ale to a glass of fine Elvish wine, Hinjo begins his speech.
“Lords and Ladies, Kings, Queens, Tyrants, Ministers, and persons of all rank, species, and gender, I would like to say a few words on this most auspicious anniversary. First, I would like to thank our host, Chief Grukgruk, for his gracious hospitality. I think we may all agree that this is infinitely preferable to the reception we received upon our very first arrival here.” There is a buzz of laughter, as the story of the Azurite fleet’s first arrival upon this island is well-known to almost all present. “On this festive occasion, this tenth anniversary of the pact that ended centuries of war and united our nations, it is as well to remember where we began, that we might appreciate how far we have come. And for that, I must ask you to cast your memories back to the time of Xykon, who unwittingly started the chain of events that would lead to this glorious feast. It was a time when some now present had not even been born, a time when the goblin race and the Sapphire Guard were mortal enemies, divided by decades of slaughter and hatred on both sides. It was a time when the Western Continent was a mass of roiling chaos and bloody war. In that time, the peace we now enjoy, with goblin merchants walking the streets of the Azure Isles, and Azurite ships docking peacefully at Gobbotopia City, with realms remaining fixed on the Western Continent for a decade or more, would have seemed like the dreams of madmen.”
“We came to this peace not easily, but as a mother births a child-in blood and pain. The rise of Xykon, and his subsequent march on our city, broke the first of the bonds that held us apart. The goblins gained, for the first time, a homeland of their own, but at the price of countless lives on both sides. Had Xykon’s ambition stopped there, he might never have forced the final turning, the final desperate gambit by which Redcloak was forced to join with us, his hated enemies, in order to save the world. And by unwittingly forcing members of every race and country to join ranks against him, he started the process that would allow for this world, where human chains no longer bind goblin limbs and goblin whips no longer lash human backs.”
“In short, I call first for a toast in remembrance of those who died to bring about this world. Raise your glasses for Vaarsuvius the Wise, Belkar Bitterleaf the Hero, Redcloak, High Priest of the Dark One, and for all the countless warriors of the Sapphire Guard and the Azurite and Goblin armies.”
The room erupted in a confused babble as a thousand voices echoed back the toast.
“And next, allow me to offer a toast to those who stood between the Lich and destruction, and lived on to join us this day. To Durkon Thundershield, Roy Greenhilt, Haley Starshine, Elan, Nale, Sabine, Thog, Tarquin, and Malack!” As Hinjo listed each name, there was a brief pause in which a thousand throats echoed it back. As Hinjo listed the last name, Jirix rose to his feet and raised his own glass. “And let us toast Hinjo, Lien, and O-chul, who stood before the world’s end, and for the first time, showed to my people what a paladin of the Twelve Gods might be!”
Finally, King Elan rose to his feet. “I would like to offer toasts as well. First, to Hinjo and Jirix for recognizing the common decency each in the other, and forging a peace where once there had been war. Second, to my father for being willing to give up his own plans and divide the Empire he had ruled for so long. Third, to my brother for being willing to split the Empire of Blood between us, and even letting me choose the first half. Even if he did expect me to choose the worse half, it was still a very nice guesture. (general laughter) And finally, a toast to all present who helped our realms when they were threatened, and helped me and my brother accomplish the feat of openly ruling stable realms for now a full decade, something that no one had managed for centuries.”
As glasses were raised in the final toast, the room once more was filled with the sounds of feasting and laughter. And every watcher, from the three Directors of the IFCC, to Lord Shojo sitting in front of a big-screen TV smoking a cigar and snacking on popcorn, to Eugene Greenhilt hovering by his scrying pool, knew that there was peace and stability radiating out from that room, and that the nations sitting there might well remain unchanged for a thousand years.
And now, without further ado, let us gaze into the darkened glass and see what we shall see.
__________________________________________________ ___________
It is the tenth anniversary of the signing of the pact of trade and peace known simply as the Accord, and eyes from all across the planes are focused on Therkla Isle, which sits near equidistant from the major signatory powers and has thus become a thriving center of trade. Dozens of important figures from two of the three major continents are united in feasting and celebration.
At the center of the feast, at a raised dais, sit representatives from the great countries. Lord Hinjo of the Azure Isles eats of finely prepared fish and drinks of the dwarvenwork ale that has already become one of the Isle’s greatest products. On Hinjo’s right sits Queen Haley Starshine of Sticktenstein, whose tiara is set with a dozen tiny luminous diamonds in echo of her name. At her right is King Elan, clad in the outlandish outfit of his other title-High Priest of Banjo. He and Shaman Vurkle eye each other oddly, for though they get along very well, being priests of the same religion, they are representatives of two gods that enjoy playing pranks on each other. Indeed, at this very moment a mixed table of Banjoites and Gigglers are breaking out into a mashed-paturnip duel, while another table of Banjoites draw pictures of Banjo hitting Giggles over the head, make them into paper airplanes, and send them flying to Giggler tables, who send their own picture-planes right back.
Continuing along the circle, we come to the Mayor of Cliffport, who is eating and drinking freely, as his plump frame reveals is his usual habit. In between bites, he chats amicably with his other dinner partner, Prime Minister Jirix of Gobbotopia. Next to Jirix is Chief Grukgruk of Therkla Isle, who is enjoying having all these visitors to his island. Beyond Chief Grukgruk is Arch-Tyranness Sabine of Linea, resplendent in sheer purple silks and dusky skin, though she has put on her human face for this public event. On her right, and rather ironically right next to Hinjo, is Nale, Arch-Tyrant of Linea, clad in crimson and gold and wearing a crown of steel, set with six inlaid bronze swords.
Radiating outwards from the dais sit all the other party guests. At the inner circle, just below the dais, six round tables are set. At one sit several children, present only because of the high rank of their parents. Crown Prince Halan of Sticktenstein and Tyrant-Heir Sserrik of Linea are whispering together of things Sserrik learned from her mother, and plotting how to get some alone time to try these things out. (Though Sticktenstein and Linea share a border, both originating from the divvying up of the old Empire of Blood (and the absorption of some other stretches of territory), their capitols are some distance apart, making secret visits impossible until Sserik masters her inborn teleportation abilities). Sserik’s younger brother, Tyrannet Lee, is amusing himself by making tiny mashed-potato people, chopping their heads off with his knife (or occasionally his half-fiend claws), and then feeding the “bodies” to his hellhound pup, Sparky. Princess Elley, by contrast, is trying to guess how much the various gems and robes on display are worth, and is currently scribbling figures for the Mayor of Cliffport’s green silk robes and shiny emerald jewelry. The youngest representative of each of the western houses, Tyrranet Cedric and Princess Lena, are not paying attention to much more than the presence of dinner.
At another table are seated some of the lesser members of the Azure Isles nobility. Roy Greenhilt, resplendent in the formal blue-and-gold dress uniform of the Commander-in-Chief of the Azure Isles military, is sitting next to the equally pimped-out Grand Admiral of the Azure Navy, Lien. Also seated are Daigo and Kazumi Kato, and their eldest son, Dazumi, and O-Chul, who is serving as the day-to-day head of the Sapphire Guard.
The buzz of feasting is interrupted by Lord Hinjo rising. Shifting from a mug of ale to a glass of fine Elvish wine, Hinjo begins his speech.
“Lords and Ladies, Kings, Queens, Tyrants, Ministers, and persons of all rank, species, and gender, I would like to say a few words on this most auspicious anniversary. First, I would like to thank our host, Chief Grukgruk, for his gracious hospitality. I think we may all agree that this is infinitely preferable to the reception we received upon our very first arrival here.” There is a buzz of laughter, as the story of the Azurite fleet’s first arrival upon this island is well-known to almost all present. “On this festive occasion, this tenth anniversary of the pact that ended centuries of war and united our nations, it is as well to remember where we began, that we might appreciate how far we have come. And for that, I must ask you to cast your memories back to the time of Xykon, who unwittingly started the chain of events that would lead to this glorious feast. It was a time when some now present had not even been born, a time when the goblin race and the Sapphire Guard were mortal enemies, divided by decades of slaughter and hatred on both sides. It was a time when the Western Continent was a mass of roiling chaos and bloody war. In that time, the peace we now enjoy, with goblin merchants walking the streets of the Azure Isles, and Azurite ships docking peacefully at Gobbotopia City, with realms remaining fixed on the Western Continent for a decade or more, would have seemed like the dreams of madmen.”
“We came to this peace not easily, but as a mother births a child-in blood and pain. The rise of Xykon, and his subsequent march on our city, broke the first of the bonds that held us apart. The goblins gained, for the first time, a homeland of their own, but at the price of countless lives on both sides. Had Xykon’s ambition stopped there, he might never have forced the final turning, the final desperate gambit by which Redcloak was forced to join with us, his hated enemies, in order to save the world. And by unwittingly forcing members of every race and country to join ranks against him, he started the process that would allow for this world, where human chains no longer bind goblin limbs and goblin whips no longer lash human backs.”
“In short, I call first for a toast in remembrance of those who died to bring about this world. Raise your glasses for Vaarsuvius the Wise, Belkar Bitterleaf the Hero, Redcloak, High Priest of the Dark One, and for all the countless warriors of the Sapphire Guard and the Azurite and Goblin armies.”
The room erupted in a confused babble as a thousand voices echoed back the toast.
“And next, allow me to offer a toast to those who stood between the Lich and destruction, and lived on to join us this day. To Durkon Thundershield, Roy Greenhilt, Haley Starshine, Elan, Nale, Sabine, Thog, Tarquin, and Malack!” As Hinjo listed each name, there was a brief pause in which a thousand throats echoed it back. As Hinjo listed the last name, Jirix rose to his feet and raised his own glass. “And let us toast Hinjo, Lien, and O-chul, who stood before the world’s end, and for the first time, showed to my people what a paladin of the Twelve Gods might be!”
Finally, King Elan rose to his feet. “I would like to offer toasts as well. First, to Hinjo and Jirix for recognizing the common decency each in the other, and forging a peace where once there had been war. Second, to my father for being willing to give up his own plans and divide the Empire he had ruled for so long. Third, to my brother for being willing to split the Empire of Blood between us, and even letting me choose the first half. Even if he did expect me to choose the worse half, it was still a very nice guesture. (general laughter) And finally, a toast to all present who helped our realms when they were threatened, and helped me and my brother accomplish the feat of openly ruling stable realms for now a full decade, something that no one had managed for centuries.”
As glasses were raised in the final toast, the room once more was filled with the sounds of feasting and laughter. And every watcher, from the three Directors of the IFCC, to Lord Shojo sitting in front of a big-screen TV smoking a cigar and snacking on popcorn, to Eugene Greenhilt hovering by his scrying pool, knew that there was peace and stability radiating out from that room, and that the nations sitting there might well remain unchanged for a thousand years.