The Blogging Parlour

I think I have some biscuit crumbs down my trousers.

Something Dark Stirs


This post originally appeared as a comment on Rock Paper Shotgun.

*Scene: Interior, the bleak fortress of Ekz. Its master, the mysterious Bokz, clad in dark armour of sinister aspect lit only by the pulsing glow of a single ring within his visor, is being briefed by a flunky.*

“Mighty Bokz, the Steemes…”

“Don’t trouble me with old news. The Steemes have been a thorn in my side, but even they serve my creation, the Ween Doze.”

“But they… They have declared independence and have forged an alliance with the tiny independent nation of Leenucks.”

The Bokz froze. He tolerated these two insignificant threats because they were not worth the effort of stamping out, but together… Together they had the potential to split the Peacey peninsula and wrest it at least partially from his grasp. The Bokz of Ekz slammed his mailed fist down on the table and swept the reports on to the floor. He strode over the map showing the massive continent of Ga’ming, the rich and prosperous Ekz lands, and the Peacey peninsula he had long claimed as his own.

“The Ween Doze ensures these lands are mine!” he barked. “I will not stand for a rival in my own domain. For too long have I indulged the whims of the Peacey peasants. Did I not slay for them the G’FWL?”

“Mighty Bokz, perhaps their gratitude is tempered by the fact that you created the G’FWL and unleashed it upon them in the first place?”

The Bokz roared in fury and clubbed his minion to death with the bulbous shape of his signature weapon known only as “Controller”. The Bokz visibly calmed himself, and waved to bring the next terrified flunky closer.

“The time has come for the velvet glove. Send forth messengers to woo the peasants. Tell them whatever they want to hear. I care not for the substance of their promises, for they shall never come to pass. I shall be in the Laboratory, preparing the ultimate weapon in this war… The Ween Doze Nyyn.”

His laughter echoed throughout the halls, the baleful glowing ring within his visor flaring brightly to cast sharp, dancing shadows.


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