Excpert from The Oligarchicon

[theallseeingeye]

Hi, just dipping my toe in! This is the opening of Chapter -1, the preprologue of my work-in-progress The Oligarchicon. However it's not the first chapter.

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In a gambling hall deep in the seedy district of Crustacean, Huth stared at Trels over the top of his cards, attempting to psycho-analyse his opponent into submssion. Failing, on this occasion, he instead placed the Praelector of Juttlebug card down on the table.

"I shall match your bid of 18 flibbits, Trels, and will raise you 4. Let me tickle the badger."

A trickle of sweat beaded down Huth's forehead. He knew the stakes were high, and that he was gambling with resources he couldn't match. If he lost, and unable to pay, he would have to make the ultimate sacrifice by the rules of SLAGG - he would forfeit his cock. He leant across the table to tickle the badger: a SLAGG term for getting another card from the pile. He glanced at it: A three of Chattawaaaweee. Dammit!

It was now Jug Jug's go. His beak opened and shut nervously. His vast wealth meant that he could easily overwhelm his rivals with outlandish bets: but this was considered not to be cricket when playing SLAGG, and he knew it - big time. Fortunatley for the slave-trader from A'a'a'a'a'tit, he was holding a game-winning card: the Ace of Blaarts. He hurled it down onto the pile, and screeched the game-winning cry:

"Embrace my dark place!"

Huth and Trels chucked their cards back onto the table in disgust. Huuth gulped several times, and crossed his legs. How in all of buggery was he to get out of this one? Crowing, Jug Jug scooped up his winnings, before noticing a note amongst the coincards.

"What is this?" The bird-man chirrupped. "'I owe you 84 flibbits. Kind Regards, Huth.'? What is the meaning of this, you Tadotian oaf? Can you not pay me my winnings? I hope you are aware of the penalty..."

"I am yes," spoke Huth quietly, and with the dignity of a man shortly to be bereft of his most manly appendage. "Give me a chance to make it up in some other way though, Jug Jug. I know you are a slave-trader, but I also know that you are actually a good man. There must be some task worthy of 84 flibbits?"

"You're right for once. I may be a slave-trader, but I am actually a good man as well. Very well! I do have a task for you to perform. One of my most attractive slaves, Bri'oni has been captured by Gaxor, the Replicant King and a planet-hopping madman!"

"What would Gaxor want with a humanoid slave-girl, no matter how fit she is?" asked Trels.

"Simple," simmered Jug Jug. "Gaxor has recruited D'Splorsch, the virgin eating dragon who fled Brel-Limial after their housing policy bust-up! He needs to feed up D'Splorsch to get him back to full strength, to help him in his mad planet-hopping. He wants to take over the whole western arc of Blaart!"

"So, by stopping Bri'oni being eaten, we will help save the Western Arc? I'm up for the challenge. After all, I could do with some action after banishing forever the handmaiden Sia'znai, to Fink, prison moon of Plupp," responded Huth, beaming widely.

"No way, Huth. You better keep your plonker in your pants. I need Bri'oni back unbroken. She's worth far more to me cherry intact than deflowered," interjected Jug Jug sternly.

"Shit. This is going to be hard. But not as hard as being castrated! I'll do it, Jug Jug! But I'll need some help. There's no way I can enter the realm of Gaxor, administered as it is by the evil Praelector, alone. Can you get me a partner in this job, Jug Jug?"

"I might be able to help you, Huth. Bogg-Ryder, the warrior Queen of Zlup, the swamp planet, owes me a favour. She has a Cybrowarrior named Pedro who would be ideal in a quest such as this. I'll make sure he comes along with you. get the next shuttlecruise out of Crustacean to P'Chuck, capital of Zlup. He'll meet you there. Next time I see you, I want Bri'oni to be there too - intact. Y'here?"

"Yes. I'll be on my way. See you later!"

Huth spinted out of the gambling hall and hailed a demicruiser to the shuttlecruiseport two miles away to catch the next flight to P'Chuck. he didn't know where this adventure would take him, but at least it kept him busy!

 

[Toadal]

Great pace, interesting characters and an unusual amount of humour in this sci-fi epic tale. Huth sounds like an excellent anti-hero. Roughly how long will the finished book be, do you think?

Have you had any publishers express an interest, thus far?

 

[Stewart]

I'd like to see more of the gambling den.

 

[theallseeingeye]

Thanks for asking, Terry.

The Oligarchicon (you heard it here first!) is a 3,000-page epic which comprise's one thousand pages of the social, historical and social background to the Blaart star system where the 'action' is set; one thousand pages of rollicking story; and one-thousand pages of footnotes. Each piece is meaningless without the other two.

I had originally wanted the publishers - the Fantastical House of Flegg has shown an interest, as has CrowSwing Books - to publish the epic in three volumes, mainly because then we could charge more for it, but they have argued firstly that people may not want to pay £17.99 for a one-thousand page book of footnotes (to which I replied: "Five words, Mizz Flegg: 'Concordance. To. The. New. Testament." That shut her up!), and secondly that the footnotes in particular would be difficult to adapt to make a satisfyingly climactic third film in the trilogy.

Any more questions?

 

[bobbyburns]

did you take a creative writing class in high school?

 

[theallseeingeye]

No.

Here's the latest addition. I think I am really cranking up the tension and the pathos here. Seriously, becoming a published author is my dream. One day it might happen - with all your help! Please comment on my work.

Huth wandered aimlessly around the lobby of the Ultracruise port in P'Chuck, capital of Zlup, the Swamp Planet. Pedro was late. If there was one thing that annoyed Huth, it was tardiness, especially from a goddam cybrowarrior. Surely a machine should always be on time?! To pass the time, Huth located his Nokia Armcom, which was attached to his arm, as always. The touchscreen flashed up, as Huth reached inside his ear for the small stylus with which he could tap out a message to anyone 'armed' with a similar piece of technology. Brushing some wax off the stylus, Huth started to type using the rather complicated method required by the Armcom.

HI aLamAO, Hth here. Am in P'chuCk. Hve hd 2 GO on a MiSion 4 Jug-Jug as lst @ SLAGG. HpFully wnt' b 2 lONg. Will mt u n Krissie in crustacean soon. Lve u lots. HUth.

Soon, the wicked sound of Axel-F penetrated Huth's mindspace, the Crazy Frog indicating that a reply had been received via the armcom. Huth inserted the stylus up his nose, allowing the message to be transmuted to speech.

Huth, tis I, Alamao. Myself and Krissie, my daughter, are well on the way to Crustacean, fear not! Your delay should mean that we arrive in that great city at roughly the same time! Going round the great Tyrethian desert is taking much longer than we thought! I had thought maybe 10 weeks, possibly 11, but definitely more than 9, which was what Krissie reckoned. I told her not to be so silly, and what did she know, she was just a girl? Anyway, good luck in battling D'Splorsch. Don't know how I know that that's what you will be doing, but there we are! Keep it real, Alamao xx

This was great news! Despite the diversion to Gaxor's realm, the revolution can still take place! Huth was beaming widely when a scruffy looking Cybrowarrior approached him.

"Hi, you Huth? I'm Pedro. I'm the guy that Bogg-Ryder, the warrior Queen of Zlup, the swamp planet, sent to aid you on your crazy mission to defeat the dragon D'Splorsch! I've been buffing up my spanking rods like nobody's business, let me tell you! Those harbingers won't stand a chance!"

"Great! Yeah, I'm Huth. Listen up, Pedro. This mission isn't going to be easy. We are going to have to venture deep into Gaxor (the replicant king)'s territory. I have heard some bad things said about the Praelector and the way he runs things on behalf of that planet-hopping madman. Don't forget, though, that we will need more than spanking rods! The harbingers are just a part of the problem. I heard it on the grapevine that the Praelector has recently invested some serious wedge in buying a job lot of orclins from The Kuttah, a perverse gas in almost human form, who rules the fluid planet D-98a()*. So that's two massive armies we will have to outwit to rescue Bri'oni!"

"**** me! Sounds well tough. So what's the plan, Huth?"

"Well, my sauces tell me that Bri'oni is being carried via a hairy cow wagon over the wasted plains of Zamora, the planet where Gaxor has built a palace for d'Splorsch. It's a crazy method of transport, but that's the way the mad dragon likes his meals delivered. The good thing is that it will give us plenty of time to get to the palace ourselves via a demi-cruiser and stop the dragon eating that shit-hot virgin!"

The two warriors ran to the check-in desk, where a ten-legged Octobitch kicked up a right stink about Huth's rather tatty Galaxopassport. After a monumental argument, during which Pedro slamdunked the Octobitch's supervisor, they finally made their way down the ubergantry to hop on board the ultracruiser which would fly them to Zamora very quickly. When they got there, Huth would arrange for them to hire a demicruiser from EasyDemiCruise and buy some rock hard weaponary. Jug-Jug had provided them with an unlimited budget, and there was no way Huth was going to let penny pinching get in the way of his and Pedro's survival.

The journey past by like a flash.

FLASH!

And they were on Zamora.

Pedro went and bought the weapons, while Huth sorted out the Demicruiser. He managed to get a top of the range model with loads of gadgets and a very strong forceshield. They loaded the vehicle up with all the guns and strapped on their armour. Jumping into the demicruiser, Huth put the pedal to the metal and they zoomed away as they didn't have much time.

They raced through the arid desert land which was what Zamora was comprised of, mostly. There were some nice bits but they were all on the coast. The two intrepid mercenaries had to go as fast as possible. They weren't sure just when the news would come through that they were there, but when it did, those orclins and harbingers would be all over them, like a nasty rash you might pick up from a disease-ridden whore in the fetid city of debauchery that is Muckdanton. While Huth drove, he and Pedro exchanged tales of their lives so far.

"So, Pedro, how did you come to be in the service of Bogg-Ryder, the warrior Queen of Zlup?"

"Heh. That's a tale, believe me. When I left Technocollege, I worked for a while with Blei-dorian, a jester who knows more than he is comfortable with. He was jestering then for Bogg-Ryder's father, Marsh-Bender, and I used to help out, you know, wiping down the audience and picking up the limbs after each show. When Blei-dorian left to take part in the Eter-Tele show Jester Love Island, I was assigned to be Bogg-Ryder's bodyguard. It was great work, and she came to really trust me, which is why I am here now. She wants to make sure this job gets done, and that you are safe. Let's just say she would like to see the Tadotian uprising work."

"Blimey! Right, well. It's good to know we have some support. I knew her and Frek Necktuck, the Chancellor of the Blaartian ruling Council, didn't get on, but that's pretty amazing news! Hang on, what's that ahead?"

Pedro engaged his megavision goggles and peered forth through the windscreen.

"Crikey!" he exclaimed. "A huge army of orclins on the horizon! The Praelector, acting on behalf of Gaxor, must be aware of our presence and sent these bastards to try and stop us. You have battled these bad-boys before, Huth, and survived. What should we do?"

"The one weakness these orclins have is that they are as thick as pig shit. We have to use that to our advantage. Let's send them a battle message using the vibe generator. They should be able to decode that."

Huth pulled down the terminal from the demicruiser roof. He was delayed for some minutes as he tried to think of a new password, as his old one had expired. Slowly he typed in H-U-T-H-2, which seemed to work. He then immediately accessed the vibe generator module. He tapped out a message.

"Hail great Orclin Army. Tis I, Huth, last of the Gregorian Princes. Rather than engage all of you in battle, we would prefer it if just I and your greatest warrior could have a one on one fight to the death, with the winner allowed to slaughter the loser's followers in anyway he sees fit. What say ye?"

Huth and Pedro waited for the Orclin response. Finally it came.

"Huth. We accept. Drive forward and the mighty Orclin fighting champion Frank will destory you! Bring it on!"

Soon Huth and Pedro were standing afore the mighty Frank, a huge orclin with slobber dribbling down his immense chin, and onto the vast spikes with which Frank had replaced his forty now redundant nipples. The rest of the orclins surrounded them, yelling abuse at Huth and Pedro.

A whistle sounded and the fight began. Huth picked up a stone. He licked it, and his Tadotian saliva rendered the rock red-hot and poisonous. He crouched and aimed, and let it fly with a massive throw. Thr rock bounced of the orclin's head, taking with it part of the beast's skull, exposing some of the horrible ooze which constituted an orclin's brain. The blow did nowt to impede the monster's desire to kill Huth, however.

Frank reached inside his pouch, and drew out a wicked-looking battle-axe, which still had some dried blood on it from his last victim. He swung it wildly around, decapitating several onlooking orclins, but Huth managed to dodge all of the blows. Dancing between the cracks in the ground caused by the axe falling, Huth summoned all his energy and sprung up into the air, landing on the shoulders of Frank. Huth then forced himself to vomit inside the brain cavity of the orclin. While tadotian saliva is nasty stuff, their puke is something else. Huth jumped from Frank, who was howling in a quite dreadful fashion as his head started to burn from the top down. Soon, all that was left was a puddle of burned flesh, steaming into the Zamorian atmosphere.

With the death of their champion, the Orclins began to wail. They new what was coming. Death. Pedro fired up the demicruiser and trained the megaphaser cannon on the gibbering hordes. Huth leapt in beside him just as the Cybrowarrior hit the trigger.

BLAM!

The orclin army was no more.

Pedro gunned the engine of the demicruiser and they were back on their way, delayed but not without hope. They were on their way to the palace!

 

[Zolipara]

Hehe
I'd like to see more of this.

 

[Toadal]

I think it is good stuff too!

 

[theallseeingeye]

Really? OK. This scene comes just before the gambling den one and features the characters Krissie and Alamao.

Krissie sat on the hard rock, and glanced across the auburn skyline to her father, Alamao. He was staring, too, but not at her. He was staring towards the desert which they were on the border of. They were sat on probably the last bit of grass they would see for a long time, and this fact was not lost on Alamao, the wise traveller.

"This, Krissie, is probably the last bit of grass we will see for a long time. We will be crossing the desert for weeks, maybe a month. Maybe even two months. It is unlikely to take three months - I haven't heard of it ever taking that long. So up to 10 weeks, maybe."

"If there is no grass, what will the Choloracamels eat?"

"I have been feeding them constantly for weeks now. They can store enough food in their 86 humps to keep themselves going for months. At least two, probably three. Maybe not as many as four, though, but as I said earlier, we only need them for up to ten weeks, so we'll be ok. Don't worry, my daughter, about the logistical arrangements for this desert based trip. They are well settled now. But there is one matter we must be aware of, for in the caves under the Great Tyrethian Desert lives Brel-Limial - the Troll Prince and his vile hoards of Harbingers!"

"Hhhhnnngrrrrhha! I have heard tales of the evil of Brel-Limial! He and his foul virgin eating dragon friend, D'Splorsch."

"Fortunatley we are spared that horror now..."

"Why father, how did you know that Huth and I had gone 'all the way'?"

"Hrch! I was referring to the fact that D'Splorsch has disappeared. Tchk! Tell me no more about your foul relations with Huth, else I may smite you. Gh! No, Brel'Limial and his dragon fell out big time about 8 millennia ago. They argued over the solution to the housing crisis in Tyrethia. Ever since Brel-Limial had invaded the land (previously known as Amneria) he had pursued a policy of building a large number of standard low quality accomodation in and around all of the ancient Amnerian villages. This angered D'Splorsch, who felt that the history and culture of the region was being destroyed, and that Tyrethia (as it was now known) did not have the infrastructure to cope with the increased numbers of Orclins and Harbingers who were moving in, since it became a land of evil. Brel-Limial countered this, by stating that destroying the history and culture of the region was enitrely the point of the exercise, and that the Orclins and the Harbingers couldn't care less about infrastructure. D'Splorsch was so enraged by this, he left Tyrethia for good, and without Brel-Limial's supply of fresh virgins to eat, he soon withered away and hasn't been heard of since. So, you have no need to worry about being eaten by dragons, Krissie, whether you have been broken in or not. Krissie?"

She had fallen asleep, her father's monologue on Tyrethian housing policy acting as well as any lullaby. Just as well, thought Alamao. The ordeal ahead was going to be harder than anything she has faced so far. He settled down to clean his spanking rods - the ultimate weapon to use against Harbingers. He cleaned his spare set also, for Krissie's use. Whilst he was doing this, a visitor came to visit him - it was Colon, the clerk to the local council. He sat down next to Alamao and spoke:

"We have heard some bad news. There have been large numbers of Harbingers moving around the border between our village and the Great Tyrethian Desert. Your passage through the desert would be foolhardy at this stage as somehow Brel-Limial - the Troll Prince - knows of your plans."

"Forsooths sake! What interest does the mighty Brel-Limial have with us mere travellers? Myself and Krissie mean him no harm."

"Ah, you haven't heard, have you? Have you?"

"No."

"Brel-limial has only gone and signed a non-aggression pact with the Blaartian Council! He is now a legal enemy of the Tadot based Gregorian uprising - which means you, Krissie and that oaf Huth! If Brel-Limial gets to capture the two of you, that will be two-thirds of Blaart's biggest problem under lock and key!"

"Pnh. Crt. This angers me, Colon. Fdt. Apologies for my Tadotian cursings. What do you and your esteemed council suggest we do?"

"Give up, Alamao. There's no way you can reach Crustacean and meet Huth in time without going through the desert. And you can't go through the desert without getting killed or captured. You'll have to contact Huth and postpone the revolution. It's just not going to happen."

"Ch! Vh! Gw! No way! We've got to make it through! We must burst the Harbinger wall of doom and break through to Crustacean!"

"What's happening, Alamao?" It was Krissie's voice, half dazed but awoken by her father's splutterings. "Can we not go on the desert adventure?"

"No way," said Colon, gesticulating with his feelers. "It would be suicide. Instant death. No matter how big your spanking rods are, there'll be just too many Harbingers. You can't beat them."

"I guess you're right, Colon, thinking about it," responded Alamao, thoughtfully. "Let's get in touch with Huth and tell him we need another month to reach Crustacean. We're going to have to go round the long way!"

The three of them laughed, relieved that the danger had been avoided so closely. A messengerbot was issued to track Huth down and inform them of the change in the plan. Later on, after Alamao discussed the rudiments of Blaartian political economy, he and Krissie fell asleep under the canopy of stars, resting afore the challenges to come.