Chronicles of Chill: Lord of the Dance

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As the frenzy of the disbursement of the criminally delayed wages departed the people of Oshunlonica, Shiwajun motioned to a man standing in the shadows. It was the King Ogbenyssius’s head squire, a man named Ayatollah Boyegus.

Shiwajun raised Ayatollah’s hand and presented him to the people saying, “Oshunlonican Apicureans, behold thy incoming King, in whom I am well pleased. Babasopecus…”

“Oparithicus!!!!!” the people responded.

In Bedrock, Gambrach could not believe what his good ear was hearing. At first he thought it was the Many Years Disease, but Lady Kem Shun repeated herself.

“Nah, fam. Y’get me yeah? Is not like I was faking scripts and tings right, but I was fresh off the ships from Jandinia, innit? And mandems was like, yo, IJGB, is you even finking about doing the Nonsensical Youth Suffering & Conscription tings? Whaagwan widdat?You is foreign! And you is like a old birdie now. And I was like, yo mama’s an old birdie. And he was like, nah, calm down me sweets, just slip me a lil something for the blaadclat red tapers and we’ll sort you an exemption thingy-bobbie. So, I was like, phew, yeah, no worries mate, but what’s your name anyway? And he told me, yeah, chill bladd; the name is Associates. Trusted Associates. And I was like rrrrespect, peace, Mr Associates.”

Gambrach sighed. Lady Kem Shun had to depart Bedrock for good.

“Farewell, Lady Kem Shun. Thou hast served thy King well.”

“Cool runnings, bruh.” And with that, she was gone.

The people heard of her misadventure and thought The Everly Failing at Convictions Commission would swoop in. But she was granted safe passage back to Jandinia. And unchill began to rumble again.

Back in Shiwajun smiled and said to Ogbenyssius, “it is done. Ayatollah, what colour will you change the drapes in the throne room?”

Ogbenyssius coughed nervously. “What shall we do about the Padipalians and the Serendipities?”

Ogbenyssius was right to be worried. The Serendipities had chosen Yola Mish as their electoralis champion. He had previously been a senateen for the Oshunlonicans in Boo Jar and was a man of fearsome political consequence, managing to triumph at electoralis whilst he was banished in the dungeons.

The Padipalians were represented by Ser Lemoda of the famed Keleda family of Oshunlonica. It was a family of bards and industrialists. Bards like SolomonO, Bread and Rambo Pacino. SolomonO, a nephew to Lemoda, was of greater renown than Bread and Rambo – Lemoda’s sons – and had purposed in his heart to take time of the mandatory Nonsensical Youth Suffering & Conscription programme and lend his acclaim to his uncle’s cause.

And lo, his uncle was not a man that was lacking in fame either. For beyond wealth, beyond his time as a senateen, Lemoda was a famed dancer. He was known as the Lord of the Dance, and twas him the ancient muses sang in the prophetic melody –

Dance, Dance, wherever you may be

I am the Lord of the Dance says he

And I’ll lead you all wherever you may be 

And I’ll lead you all in the dance said he!

Yea, would he lead his people in dance and from dance would he arise to lead his people.

Ayatollah and Shiwajun were wary that his dance would trump their nothing, wherefore they raised a cry to the magistrates that Lemoda, like their King Gambrach, was not possessed of the scroll de minimis of learning. Wherefore it was ordered that the scrolls be produced lest Lemoda forfeit his ambitions.

Behold, when Lemoda delivered the scroll unto the magistrates, it was discovered that all his time in the junior citadels had been a severe waste. Wherefore his nephew SolomonO, in defiance, belted out the words of his famous composition, Darmi Doo Roe.

Err Mah Darmi Doo Roe

Amy Omor Baba’olodo

Why not let us mu’jo

E-joe uncle daddy Rambo

And the Oshunlonicans came out in great number to shake their booties for him. And Lemoda the Lord of the Dance led them in joyous gyration into electoralis. And as the tally came in, it appeared the spirit of Babasopecus had deserted the Oshunlonicans, for the Lord of the Dance was ahead of Ayatollah.

Gambrach heard the news from Boo Jar and sent for Shiwajun. “What exactly is thy use to me, Shiwajun. Thou couldst not Wahala Morghulis Abushola – in fact, he smirketh and mocketh thee in Oshunlonica as we speak.. Thou couldst not reconcile our warring factions. And now, thou disposesseth Apicuria of Oshunlonica, which is rumoured to be thy true actual Kingdom? Of what use is a Shiwajun that is not at the wajun of anything?”

“Fear not, my King. I shall return and inconclusivise affairs, that we may regroup.”

“Very well”, replied Gambrach, “but before thou leavest, read with me this parchment which I have received from the knights of the round table of Kwee Lox, on behalf of their brother Ambsalom.”

“Burn it.” retorted Shiwajun, cold as Lagoonian steel.

Thus the people, ready to burst into the greatest dance the world had ever seen, received the news of electoralis inconclusivus, for Lemoda has not sufficiently trounced Ayatollah.

“Fear not, my good people”, Lemoda said to the assembled throng, “go ye now and rest your weary legs. Come back refreshed that Ayatollah mayest receive an almighty funk-up the likes of which no eyes have seen and no scribes may describe. Stay funky, my people!”

Wherefore SolomonO passed gourds of drink around to the people, to refresh themselves before going home. “What is this drink, so divine?” the people asked. “Mixed Mossa”, responded SolomonO.

And as the people dispersed, news began to filter in that Hadi Potter had returned from his quest to establish the Winged Royal Fleet, which he had provisionally dubbed ‘Hot Air’. But he was conspicuously empty-handed.

“Hadi Potter! Whither thy magic? Whither the remainder of our Royal Fleet? Whither the gaddem one and a half billion shekels given to thee to purchase the missing magic?”

Hadi was bloodied and breathless. “It’s all gone! The dementors… the dementors of Jazz Kaban. They waylaid me! They took it all!”

Brethren, the people of the land heard it and they were incensed in their unchill. Behold, there was nary a gaddam speck of chill left in the land!”

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