The Tale of Lord British's Nose (no sex, humor, computer game fanfic, heroic fantasy)

by Frenetic Dragon (billyfw@ix.netcom.com)

DISTRIBUTION RIGHTS:  "Anyhow, the work's public domain as far I figure,
so it can go just about anywhere it's merits can take it; s'fine with 
me.  >%)" --Frentic


[Frenetic settles into a chair on the porch, which is about fifteen
feet away from your position.  Which is shocking, since you're nowhere
near any porches.  But there it is, and there he is on it, and he
appears quite calm as he strums on his lute.]

This was a story passed down to me from ... well ... someone ... and I
decided, since we're all pretty laid back right now, that I'd go ahead
and share with all of you.

<twang>

<twang>

<twangy-twang>



Oh sit back, dear friends, let your stout wings recline,
And give thy ear notice, for an old tale of mine,
That was born of a happenstance, in a moment most rare,
From the weaver to me, in a stupor, 'twas shared.

"Come sit down," said he, in a tone quite unsober,
"I've got you a story, an' not long 'til it's over."
With a hiccup of merryment, and a breath full of spirits,
He began, and I swear, that this be how I hear it.

"Forscore," the drunk muttered, "and some seven years ago."
"I was a young warrior, with a broad face aglow,"
"In the service of British; not the people, the Lord."
"As a part of his vanguard, sent to fight off the Horde."

At this point in the tale, well, I grew quite suspicious,
For the title he uttered was the name of the vicious,
Orcs from the realms of the games they call Warcraft,
And suspecting a ruse, why, I took to the warpath!

"Now see here," I started, "my good man, you're joking."
"You're lying, you're trying, and what's more, you're quoting,"
"The name of the creatures from the products of Blizzard."
"With their gryphons, their sappers, their knights, and their
wizards."

"Mages," he spat, "for Zog's sake, use their name,"
"You can't change their title 'cause the rhyme is a pain."
"Well alright," I exclaimed, "I shall use the right term,"
"But honestly, pal, it is not your concern."

"Well it is," he retorted, "and you'd best keep in mind,"
"That to twist around words is a horrible crime,"
"So when telling my story to the ones who will follow,"
"The names must be right, for this piece to be swallowed."

Loudly, the man cackled, and tossed back his bottle,
I did harbor a thought that his throat I could throttle,
But before I could act, he returned to his pose,
And resumed his odd saga, in the following prose.

"Well these orcs, they were angry, and completely barbaric,"
"They'd run ye through twice, and again if you'd bear it."
"From the caverns they came, from the dark they appeared,"
"In great numbers they rose, 'twas a sight to be feared."

"Blah blah blah blah," I mocked from my seat.
"Unless I'm mistaken, your story's complete."
"But wait," the coot called as I grumbled and rose,
"I'm about to start talking about the Big Nose."

"The nose?" I said quickly, my voice growing softer,
"Am I to understand that your story will offer,"
"The reason for the girth of the nose of the king?"
"If I had a bell," the man said, "it surely would ring."

"For you are correct," he winked, with a laugh,
"See, our great monarch's nose was once only one half,"
"Of the size it is now; one-third, truth be known."
"But whatever it was, it is now overblown."

"By some magic?" I asked.  "Perhaps by some spell?"
"If that's all that it was, then there's nothing to tell."
The man shook his head, "No, the truth is fare worse."
"Lord British's nose suffers no paltry curse."

"Well then what," I demanded, "is the point of your ambling?"
"If you know the answers, then why are you rambling?"
"The best things," he prattled, "come to those who will wait."
"Oh screw that," I said, "and start talking straight."

Well he fussed and he sputtered, the old man he glared,
But I was halfway to sober, so right back I stared.
And after a faceoff, 'tween the old man and I,
The drunkard relented, and looked up to the sky.

"As I was saying," he growled, "the King's nose once was short."
"'twas not a secret joke told around the King's court."
"But then, on a day near the end of our war,"
"The King met a warlock outside his front door."

"This quaint little mage had the first name of Tim."
"As for the last name, well, on that my mind dims."
"But I do recall hearing that he was a spell vendor,"
"Whose magics summoned fire without flint or tinder."

By now a small crowd drew around the man's feet,
He was standing, commanding naught but silence complete,
Round the ranks rumbled nothing, oh!, the people were wrapped,
In the trance of this story, we all now were trapped.

"Now Tim," the man smiled, "was brought in to cast spells,"
"Whatever it took to see that these Orcs fell."
"But his payment, which he asked first from Lord British."
"Was a friendly pet rabbit that would not be skittish."

"Now friends, in Britannia, as most all of you know,"
"There are so few rabbits, in odd places they grow."
"As this mage scampered off to cast his black magic,"
"Lord British was faced with a problem most tragic."

"After speaking with Nystul, which as always was useless,"
"The King shook his head and proclaimed it was fruitless,"
"And with crown in his hand, the poor monarch retreated,"
"To his room, where they say, his mistress he greeted."

I sniffed at this part, for I was not too sure,
That the King could have found a miraculous cure,
In the pleasures of consorts, whomever they be,
But the old man continued with a cackle of glee.

"At that time, his favorite was a fine lass name Sherry,"
"Like the drink, she could give you a feeling quite airy."
Hearing this the men snickered, and the women grew listless,
"So did he find help," said one lad, "with this mistress?"

"Oh he did," the man called, "in a minute or two."
"Well I'll be," someone shouted, "so it took him that few?"
"He returned in a hurry, for he needed to save,"
"His fine kingdom from dying, you sick little knave."

At this comment the crowd murmured, passing whispers and jokes
The man swung his hands high; from the sky, lightning broke.
"Be silent, all ye perverts," he intoned with a shout,
"If you can't keep your pants on, then for Zog's sake GET OUT!"

A few men retreated, to the bars they all darted,
The storyteller nodded, for the fools had departed,
"Lord British returned, with a plan that was daring."
"For the price of the kingdom, no expense was worth sparing."

"The King sailed a ship to the Mad Wizard's Isle,"
"A place where the rabbits run rampant and wild."
"But sadly," the man said, as a pause he now took,
"It was not the best place for Lord British to look."

"For as the few sailors who've been there profess,"
"The rabbits of Sutek are a Zogawful mess,"
"They're twitchy, they're angry, they're smelly and spiteful,"
"They'll jump for your limbs, and they'll try for a biteful."

"But the King was on edge, he needed a rabbit,"
"He set out a net, in the hopes that he'd nab it,"
"And by chance our Lord did, and he quickly returned."
"To deliver the prize that the wizard had earned."

"'Your bunny,'" the King said, as Tim took a bow,
"'I am glad that you have it, though I do not know how,'"
"'You managed to sail to the Island and back,'"
"'In the space of the hour where I made my attack.'"

"'Don't try,'" Lord British said, "'to make perfect sense,'"
"'Of the physics of Ultima; it's just a pretense.'"
"'Oh, alright,'" Tim smiled, "'then I thank you and go.'"
"'And the mage took his leave, with his bunny in tow.'"

"Is that it," I replied, "is that all to this riddle?"
"Oh no," the man shivered, "we're right past the middle."
"See, in the span of a week, the wizard returned,"
"He had blood on his cloak, and his eyes, they did burn,"

"'Where is he,'" Tim snarled, "'your grand sovereign twit,'"
"'Who tossed me this bunny?  Where is the old git?'"
"'Why I think he's asleep,'" said a man in a cape.
"'Not a peep,'" the mage whispered, "'or you will not escape.'"

"So the wizard stole off to the bed of our king,"
"In a moment, some magics the enchanter did sing,"
"And while screams woke the palace," the man said in a sigh,
"The foul deed was done, as the dawn filled the sky."

Withdrawing his arms from his gestures of size,
The man gave me a wink from his grey, aging eyes,
"As the tale goes, the mage left in a fury,
"He knocked down advisors as he ran in a hurry,"

"As he stomped through the wide open gates of the castle,"
"He turned and called loudly, 'For the price of this hassle,'"
"'May your nose grow as long and as large as a house,'"
"'And may your best maiden be turned to a mouse.'"

"'May the size of this nose be you new greatest treasure.'"
"'May you never again take advice from your pleasures,'"
"'And give a poor wizard the shaft for his toil,'"
"'Or so help me next time, I'll give you a boil!'"

I watched as this man now sat on the floor,
And gave me a look that said "there is more."
"What," I inquired, "what is it you're hiding?"
"Is there something more?  Or have you simply been lying?"

"Oh no," he said sagely, "I've told you the reason,"
"That the nose of our King stays large through the seasons."
"But why the man's nose," I asked as I stood.
"Oh the answer to that is simply too good,"

He grinned as he rolled and he spoke from his side,
"And I'm afraid, my new friend, that I cannot confide,"
"That part of the story to you at this time."
"Because it's the end of this quaint little rhyme."

With that the man vanished, in a small puff of smoke,
I was caught so off-guard that I swear I did choke,
To this day I know not why the King's nose was grown,
But something tells me that it's best left unknown.



<twang>

[Frenetic puts the lute down and cackles.]

Ta and da.   >%)

[He munches on a cinnabon and reclines in the chair.]
