A tiny guy with a bottle wandered through the streets of Timbuktu. His legs hurt and he wanted to sit down, but this was before park benches. Suddenly, he saw a man rush out of the largest building in the city, the Palace (this was after palaces, but only just). The man had a desperate look upon his face as he seize the gnome by the shoulders, kneeling in order to do so.
"How would you like to be the king of Mali?"
The gnome thought about this.
"Do I get a chair?"
"Yes! Whatever you want!"
"Okay, then."
The desperate man gave a cry of joy to the Hindu gods, who were the new rage in Timbuktu, tossed a mask at the gnome's feet, and ran whooping down the street.
The gnome stared after him as he picked up the mask and turned it over in his hands. It was the face of Mansa Musa, the king of Mali.
He shrugged. It was a job.
Somehow, he thought that assuming his new position of stature (or, in his case, lack thereof), would be a bit more difficult.
Wouldn't the guards notice that the greatest person in Mali was a little... less?
As it so happened, there were no guards. They hadn't been trained yet. Timbuktu was evidently without a single thug in town.
He marched up to the chair, wearing the mask, and, feeling a bit foolish, sat down. A moan of relief escaped his lips.
Two courtiers appeared as if from nowhere. They bowed.
"What is thy bidding, our master?" (thy has been around forever; just check the RB1 thread)
"Um... what do I usually do?"
He was expecting them to burst out laughing, but rather, they pulled out the strangest map he had ever seen (this was before maps, but royalty always gets to cheat). Evidently, they were used to things like this.
He bent over to examine the map, recognizing it as Timbuktu. He had no idea what was going on beyond that, so he set a stern expression on his face, studied it, then nodded and dismissed them.
He sat, alone in the great hall, waving his feet that would not touch the ground. For a moment, he felt desperately lonely. Then, he remembered his bottle.
Things were looking up.
A while later, the advisors came bustling back in.
"Lord, our scholars have discovered the secrets of Masonry! We pray you direct us in our studies!"
This caught the sleeping gnome completely off guard. He jolted awake, muttering something about "damn early turns" then remembered where and who he was.
"Oh, uh... very good. What are our options for the next subject of our inquiry?"
He was proud of the word inquiry. It sounded kingly. (Pride has been around even longer than thy, though don't tell the people in the RB1 thread I said that)
They unfurled a scroll. It took him a moment to read the writing on it (see note on maps, above). He seized on one that looked promising.
"Monotheism... is that anything like Polytheism?"
"Yes, my lord! Polytheism means that we worship many gods. Monotheism means that we worship one God!"
"Sounds like a good idea. I could never remember all thirty three million names."
They bowed again and scurried off, only to come hurtling around the corner again.
"My lord! Timbuktu has created another unit of seasoned Warriors! What should we produce now?"
"Uh... well, we have no guards... do we have any explorers?"
"Yes, lord, other Warriors that you sent exploring to the north and west."
"Do we know the territory that lies to our south?"
"Yes, lord."
"Then send these north and east. And work on recruiting another bunch of them; we need protection! Uneasy lies the head that wears the royal hat!" (this was waaaay before Shakespeare)
"Of course, lord!"
The gnome felt good, and rewarded himself with disposing of the now empty bottle and retrieving a fresh one.
Time passed. Kinging grew old. He only had one important decision to make after the guards were recruited, and that was to recruit some Workers to improve the land around Timbuktu. He was restless.
Also, he needed another bottle.
But he could not leave this land without guidance. After some deliberation, he took the maps of the land the scouts had explored, drew squiggles on them (there have been squiggles as long as there have been inner children and handy pigments), then tossed the mask out the window and himself out the other window.
He had to use a stepstool, though.
The kingdom awaits a leader...
).
to a great first story.
arty:
