Chronicles of Chill: The Day of Bar-Charr Mortis


A deep sleep had descended upon the chronicler. Yea, it was the work of detractors that wished not the times to be recorded, of austerity. And for a season, the chronicler snoozed and heard not the voice of the Tword. Until, one morning, there was the sound of memorial rejoicing in the air which jolted him out of his reverie. It was a loud cacophony of revelers picnicking on the lane of memory, recalling the transition into inglory of Bar-Charr, the worst of the kings of the men of Gunn.

Bar-Charr was the head of the mutineers, the silent listener to every conversation, the unseen guest at every meal, a pestilence that flew by day, night and whatever was between. He was also bosom friend to Gambrach and to this we shall return. For behold, the people rejoiced as well at Gambrach’s beatification of Mor-Shoode. Cue our Nollywoodinian back-flashing…

Mor-Shoode was a man of immense wealth and the fore-runner in the first electoralis federalis following Gambrach’s mutiny as a man of Gunn in his previous reign. Gambrach was ousted by Gi-Dah in bloodless mutiny (twas even said that twas Darth Soukey that delivered the deathblow to Gambrach’s reign), and twas Gi-Dah on the throne at the time of the Mor-Shoodian polls.

It was a dire time in the kingdom, with many tired of the life and all its palavers. Behold, was there no work, no light, no food, no houses. The little water the people got was filled with filth. The meagre earnings the people earned were quickly eaten by the demons of transport. The schools caused headaches, the infirmaries didn’t work. Behold the people were tired of life. And Mor-Shoode wanted to end this, as did Bar-Tof, the other contender for the throne. Times were tough but Tof knew he was tough too – lo, perhaps even tougher.

And as the results came in from electoralis, Gi-Dah walked about alone in the throne room, looking at the throne wistfully. He ran his finger along the golden arm rest preparing to bid it goodbye. Suddenly, smoke began to billow from under the throne and a genie appeared.

“I am the genie of the throne, here to grant you one wish, King Gi-Dah.”

“A genie?” asked Gi-Dah, incredulously. “How didst thou survive the spiritual cleansing of the palace? The most potent marabouts from Timbuktu were brought hither to perform the rites.”

“True, King Gi-Dah. Behold, I hid from them in the chambers of Bar-Charr. Yea, even the Timbuktunian demontors fear him. But now, thou must make thy wish. What is it thou desirest?”

“The throne!” replied Gi-Dah without hesitation. But the genie looked disappointed. “Why asketh thou an elemental to do what lyeth within thy grasp to do? Thou art King. A man of Gunn no less.”

Wherefore Gi-Dah was imbued with a new swag and immediately ordered that the announcement of the electoralis  results be halted. It was a moment of malady however, for when lucidity returned, Gi-Dah was heard mumbling to himself “Chaiiii, I don fokkup!!!”

And truly he had, for there was a monumental unleashing of unchill upon the entire gaddem kingdom. Every voice was raised against Gi-Dah in condemnation, including the voice of Gar-Knee, a fearless man of the legal persuasion.

Gi-Dah knew his number was up and thus ceded the throne to Listless Nekan. The less that is said about Listless, the better, as he was not bold enough to sit on the throne with more than one of his buttock cheeks at any point in time. The people begged Listless to be earnest in his reorganization of the Kingdom but it was to no avail. Bar-Charr seized his moment and pounced on the throne. From thence was there nary a speculum of gaddem chill in the Kingdom.

There was looting, pillaging and executions the likes of which the Kingdom had never seen. All walked in fear and trepidation under his eye. All apart from Mor-Shoode, who protested his stolen mandate all the way from Jandinia to Trumpstantinople. Bar-Charr had no time for dissent and quickly threw Mor-Shoode into the dungeons. Bar-Charr also imprisoned King Shegolas of Owurutas, and Shay Who the older brother of King Yaraz. He probably also threw the genie of the throne room into the dungeons for he was never seen nor heard from again.

Behold, even Bar-Charr commissioned an electoralis charade, ostensibly to hand over the throne from the people of Gunn to the ordinary people. And all the elders gathered unto themselves to contemplate accession to the throne.

“Under His Eye!” they declared, commencing the meeting. “Blessed be Bar-Charr forever!”

“Brethren, shall we contend with each other for the throne?” asked one.

“Oh thou poor joker,” one chided, “canst thou not see that we do not contend against flesh and blood but the ultimate principality and power? The ruler of darkness in the high places? Sho mo age e ni?”

“Many have perished under Bar-Charr’s reign for the mere suggestion that another should be king. What will then be the fate of those who make bold to reign in his stead?”

“Thou art right, brother. Let all of us go before him and beg him in his majestic wisdom to remain our King, Gunn or not.”

“It is settled.” And they departed.

But then came three queens from the far east who had seen Bar-Charr’s star and came to honour him bearing gifts of malus domestica. There was a malus domestica of gold, one of frankincense and one of myrrh. Bar-Charr did not know that it was forbidden to have a piece of each of the three gifts in his mouth at the same damn time and made the final mistake of his life, paying the ultimate price. The streets were filled with dancing and rejoicing and tears of joy – the day of Bar-Charr mortis. Whereafter, owing to the manner of his death, Bar-Charr become known in some parts of the kingdom as Apollonius.

Dool-Shalom was quickly chosen by the men of Gunn to be the new king but he was wary of the poisoned chalice of the throne and wanted to sit on it no longer than necessary. All hoped that he would free Mor-Shoode and declare him king. Yea, even emissaries from Trumpstantinople came visiting, led by Lady Shossana Beans and Mor-Shoode was brought unto them that they might see that he lived and breathed. But it quickly went awry, as Mor-Shoode took ill suddenly and none was able to revive him.

Here endeth the back-flashing of Nolly, save to say thatDool-Shalom ceded the throne to Shegolas after electoralis and the shadow of the Mor-Shoode hung over the Kings of the kingdom thereafter.

Back in Bedrock there was distress as the council of Gambrach sensed that retaining the throne in electoralis was going to be a tall order. Yea, was there a storming daniels of brains to see what could be done.

“Shall we get His Highness to do the Sharkew-Sharkew dance for the Social Medianites?” suggested FemCallamitus, “ye know how they love seeing their kings in dance.”

“Shall we find another Gejoshaphatian project to tie a ribbon to?” asked Gar Bar.

“Better yet, let us accuse Gejoshaphat of stealing all the golden utensils from Bedrock,” suggested Lar Yi.

“No, no, no.” replied Shiwajun, “all these leave the King’s flanks open to renewed Wahala Morghulis. The King must imbibe the spirit of the Prophet Pushertease and endrake his enemies into silence as it was done in the days of old. Let him canonise and beatify Mor-Shoode.”

“WHA???” shouted Gar Bar. “Never! The people will see it for the Greek gift that it is.”

“And what do you know about Greeks and Trojans?” asked Kyocera. “A Greek gift could either be hiding soldiers or serve as firewood for the winter. And ye all know that winter is coming…. It is done, O Shiwajun. The proclamation will go out this evening.”

“You mean the King has already agr…” started FemCallamitus, trailing off when he saw the scowl on the face of Kyocera.

Thus, was it proclaimed in Social Mediana, to the Digital Perusites, to the Amalakites and even the dogs and baboons in the kingdom that Mor-Shoode, Gar Knee and Gar Nah (who would have been the Hand of Mor-Shoode) were to receive the kingdom’s highest honours. It was the eve of one score years since the demise of Bar-Charr and maigheeeeurddd,  there was no gaddem chill in the land.