The Portrait of Zool Posted January 14, 2003 Report Posted January 14, 2003 The Moon was settling over the mountains as the first rays of the sun stretched and yawned their first hint of the morning to come. Cool breezes stirred from the dark hollows and meadows at the edge of the forest, and out of those uncertain winds crept the mist of the newborne day. Slowly rising with the moments of the rising sun, they obscured, and then revealed the teal valley leading to the fortress of The Pen is Mightier than the Sword, and something else. Walking from the direction of the primeval forest came a heavily burdened figure. He steadily made his way to the Assembly Room, and entered, and unloaded his burlap wrapped burden from his back, and sat down, sighing with great relief. The bartender at the end of the hall stopped his polishing of the small bar and eyed the odd stranger with some concern, for his ragged appearence and mysterious package, which dwarfed the stranger, was curious indeed. "Hello stranger," said the bartender. "What can I do for you?" The stranger almost looked up as he was addressed, but didn't quite, which disappointed the bartender, as the stranger's face remained hidden beneath a threadbare hood. Then the stranger let out a nerve rattling cackle, and spoke. "Aye, tis what I can do for you that you can do for me, for I come bearing a gift, and you would do me a service to simply accept." With that he threw the sack cloth off of the large package to reveal... a painting. It was a full sized standing portrait of Zool, Ancient and former Elder of The Pen is Mightier than the Sword. Zool stood regally in his black leather suit trimmed in red, one hand resting on the silver handle of a walking stick, his other arm cradling a rubber chicken. His jet-black pompadour soared up from his head nearly a meter, topped with a flamboyant curl. The background appeared to be the overgrown ruins of a Terran fortress. The frame was sturdy and ornately carved, covered in gold leaf. "Where did you get that?" asked the barkeep, who was somewhat taken aback. Again the mysterious stranger let out his dusty cackle, and said, "There are as many forms of hell as there are mages, and it is a mages sins that make each hell as it is." The stranger looked at the painting leaning against the table and stared Zool in the eyes. Shaking a fist at the painting he declared, "I dare say this mage will one day learn to show respect where respect is due." The barkeep noticed some fear painted in the eyes of Zool he hadn't seen at first glance. Odd, the face had seemed so serene at first. The stranger's voice was one moment as dry as paper, as old as the mountains, and then softened, and indeed the arm and fist revealed from under the robe looked quite young and even feminine. The barkeep felt his apprehensions build as well as his curiousity. The stranger straightened up and turned to go, leaving the painting. "Uh, who are you? Why have you brought this here?" asked the bartender of the stranger, anxious that he shouldn't leave the hulking painting there. The stranger stopped in the door, and spoke without turning around. "I am known by many names. Polybymnia, Erato, Euterpe, Terpsichore, and others." He half turned back to the painting as he spat out the words, "But I have been forsaken and forgotten by he who should know better, and for that his soul shall not rest. The 'emphasis was completely misplaced, completely misleading', he said in his final Farewell. Aye, that was but spit in my eye, and the feather he was trying to place in his own cap. Hehe, now it is his curse to be trapped in his own likeness until he grants me my due. MuaHhahahahaha!" The stranger walked out of the door, and the barkeep took off after him, but when he looked outside not a trace of the stranger was to be seen. The barkeep was still puzzling over the strangers final words as he turned towards the painting, and was astonished to hear a voice emenate from it, and the brush strokes of the lips forming the very words he was hearing. "If you would be so kind," said Zool, "Perhaps you could hang me up over the fireplace?"
Peredhil Posted January 14, 2003 Report Posted January 14, 2003 The Bartender hesitantly looked at the painting, then shrugged. He'd been warned when he took this job that strange things were afoot at the Circle K. Carrying a bar stool over to the fireplace, he took up the Drunk Pacifier - a large claw-headed hammer, and some nails. Moments later the Bartender found himself precariously perched atop the stool, eyes squinting and tongue slightly protruding in concentration as he aligned a series of large nails. Moments later, the Painting was hanging high and centered above the fireplace, surveying the room below. With a smirk, the Painting spoke once more. "Very well done, my good man, I find myself well-hung."
The Portrait of Zool Posted June 8, 2004 Author Report Posted June 8, 2004 From Arch Mage, to portrait?!? How did Zool come to be in such a sorry state? Enquiring minds want to know - so read on Pennites for the (occasionally) exciting, (yawningly) fantastic and absolutely (un) true account of the fall of Zool!
The Portrait of Zool Posted June 8, 2004 Author Report Posted June 8, 2004 It was a dark and stormy night. The place was Terra. The time was... Armageddon! Rain and wind howled over the expansive black plain. As far as the eye could see the ground moved in slow writhing motion as millions of Zoms and Skels guarded their territory. To the rear was a thick band of Lich, and the sky was thick with Vampires and the stench and groans of the Zoms. The time was right... Arcing over the hills came the oil flasks. The Nether units didn't even know they were being attacked until the flasks shattered against them and the ground, saturating everything in extremely flammable oils. Then the Red Dragons roared over the hills, hundreds of them, mighty wings spread wide. The enemy didn't even have time to turn before the sky split in a searing blast. Inferno, the ultimate offensive Eradication Magik battle spell had been released. The ground trembled, then shook, then broke apart, opening below their feet. White hot Lava fountained from the depths of Terra, incinerating to ash a million oil drenched Zoms and Skels in a single instant. Through the inferno roared the Dragons, incinerating another million in their first pass. The dark land was now a molten hell, the mountains leveled, the air crackling and sulpherous. A very beautiful victory, indeed. To be continued...
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