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The Last Days of Blee

Page history last edited by Tim 13 years, 8 months ago

Back to Other Elemenstor Literature

 

The Last Days of Blee

by Philip Skeletor

 

See Also: Goldimaris, Pactifoot, Mo-pi, Blee

 

 

This novella relates the story of the Last Winter of Blee, which refers to the winter of year 1002 (TMSK), when the inspiring efforts of Goldimaris the Tribbit occurred. The Last Days of Blee is one of the most lyrical of the tales related during the Magic Sword Kings Period.

 

  • Chapter 1: The Onrushing Vampyric Horde
  • Chapter 2: Remoralizing the Demoralized
  • Chapter 3: Tribbits and Tribulations
  • Chapter 4: The Adventures of Half-Cat and Doorstop
  • Chapter 5: Mo-pi's Ignominious Revenge

 

Introduction

 

Herein lies the final records of the soon-to-sleep sunset that casts its shadow upon the kingdom of Blee.

 

Chapter 1: The Onrushing Vampyric Horde

 

Like clumsy birds tripping their invisible feet up amongst the clouds and sky, wind dropped, fell, and made its way to the walls of Castle Flongstake. And as it passed its vision over the plains, it swooped over Eops, upright leonine creatures, who expostulated with their hands as they made lengthy conversation, as well as a pair of birds who skimmed-and-dashed over Grinswood Lake, staring each other in the eye -- muttering, "No, you blink." "No, you." -- and flying about at such a dizzying rate that they managed to scare a few Fainting Trees into fulfilling their eponymous duty. Twenty miles up-road: a black tent, overlooking a red stoned castle, where a scurrying, hunched Tribbit named Goldimaris plucked Raggamuni Flowers from the dirt by the wall.

 

If only flowers grew out of pots, she used to say. She experimented constantly, asking every Elemenstor in the city she could find for help; what little she did receive at home made its worth manifest via scorched earth, and several other mounds of dirt who had moved away to avoid subsequent blasts.

 

For nigh twenty-eight years, Goldimaris had called Flongstake and the local towns home. Having travelled as far south as Morlond's Field, turning around once she saw what they were doing to the local troughberries, she could safely claim that the landscape enthralled her like no other in Battal: mind-unfolding sky, ample varieties of grass, her favorite architects, and an adventurous seaport, all filled with the latest news, finger-shaking instructors strolling with pupils amongst the market, and fish.

 

The wind spat that page of memory away, and it fluttered down the hill. Her hands were full of Raggamuni now, swirling strands ephermeral and weighted that let off with each appreciative squeeze a poof of cinnamon odor the way old ladies beat the dust out of their rugs every evening before Airthday morn.

 

"Goldimaris!" A voice called. "Up with your looking, now, gal!"

 

Up amongst the raised parapets, Captain Archstone waved. "You should come on in. Night will be here soon, and you need to stay safe."

 

"The stones can only attack me when I'm outside? But they seem so innocent."

 

Archstone chuckled. "Just get in here, you crazy louse."

 

Goldimaris made her way to the front of the castle, twenty-foot tall wooden doors surrounded by carvings of dragons, mariacheetahs, and eops all chasing after a daigon squip. They creaked, groaned, and after an audible struggle, gave way to the gate watcher's demands and opened.

 

The laundry lines unfurled their banners. Shirts, trousers, and a variety of hats stretched across Market Lane road. Shoppers were out, peering over onto stands full with the freshest floftrax and butterwinks. Market Lane, nearly a mile in length, had been home to quiet these past few days, and even the bored shoppers had picked up their stands to go home, but resolve had worn away into frustration, pushing sleepy children out of doors to run and mess about from the earliest hours of the day.

 

"Hidable parchment!" called one vendor. "Write what you want to say, and slip it 'neath tree's bark! Hidable Parch --!"

 

"Magical maps! Magical maps!" cried another.

 

Chapter 3: Tribbits and Tribulations

 

A tiny sound did echo through the darkened chamber; alighting briefly on cold stonework, bouncing mournfully over warm woodwork. The sound was of a child mewling or of a cat hewling and in some cases could be considered both. The indistinct form seemed lost, alone and scared although sadly these conditions have become the norm of late in Blee.

 

But tarry there in fear our intrepid heroine did not when upon the wind carried a most mournful sound. If her snivelling begat fear and lonesomeness, then this hideous wail did abound with abject dread. It did arouse in her bosom a most indignant flame. Her anger burning hot and bright overcame her caution and leaping up at once, she spied in her hidey-hole a brace of Moonfruit. One simple sniff was all it took, although a little bite she snook and immediately regretted doing so, for now was the fashion of Garlic Moonfruit grow'd.

 

Ejecting the retched piece she ran out into the street a clutch of the vile things in her paw. Then out on that street her heart skipped several beats for there before her stood Mo-pi himself, foul General of the Vampyric Horde. But in a state of bother he seemed as against the wall he leaned, hurling a stream of curses that would shock even the nurses of the Palace Guard.

 

Our heroine seemed unaffected though and scanned the scene, wondering at the source of the mournful keening wail. When Mo-pi stood and drew his sword she then did turn rather pale for a little piece of offcut wood spake thus: "P-Please Mr Mo-pi, don't splinter us!" Mo-pi did cackle with darkened, dreaded glee and so retorted he with descriptions of plundering and pee.

 

When all seemed lost our heroine awoke and violently tossed her paw borne bomb. The throw was good and Moonfruit sailed with aplomb. One righteous piece struck a blow for good, poking Mo-pi full in his blinkered eye-hood. Cat-like our charge darted and stole the shard of wood before the dread Vampyre could get started.

 

Off into the night she ran as fast as only a Tribbit can, until far away they were, and stop she could to care for her new wooden friend.

"Hi, my name's Goldimaris" she crooned.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Pactifoot the Doorstop" he swooned.

 

Literary Reactions

 

Champions for women's rights among the ELotH:TES fanbase are divided into two camps: those who celebrate Goldimaris as one of the few female forces of Good in the Vampyric Wars, and those who believe it was horribly condescending to have one of the only female heroes in the Vampyric Wars doing things like picking Pearcicles and Raggamuni Flowers.

 

Comments

 

Are we allowed to transcribe the whole thing, or would that be copyright infringement? Do we necessarily need to? Presented below is an excerpt from the chapter where Goldimaris first meets Pactifoot. I went for this piece initially because I like the mood and tone. --Simon.
It seems as though we've been able to get away with quite a bit on this wiki.. I say go with it until the might of the law brings its hammers down upon us. -tim
While we at Realmworlds Publishing embrace the community and sanction fan sites such as this one, we regret to inform you that you may not quote from Chapter 4: The Adventures of Half-Cat and Doorstop at this time, bearing pending legal action by Nickelodeon against us on behalf of their copyrighted TV show, CatDog - Tyge Ottesen Realmworlds Publishing Legal Intern
Well, that's dandy, since the only thing I've to work from are the handwritten notes at the National Archives. This is the source I've for most of my research, but I find it hard to read, so feel free to correct what I've got if your eyes read better than mine. - Evan
Tyge Ottesen needs some help with his links -skylar

Comments (2)

Anonymous said

at 4:13 pm on Jan 28, 2006

lots of good info on blee here. good story too

Anonymous said

at 6:24 pm on Jan 28, 2006

Thanks!

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