Terrible News!

The battle was almost over when the messenger arrived.
Lost as I was in the heady joys of combat I did not hear him at first, only when my last opponent lay in a heap of bloody flesh amidst his comrades did the high-pitched female voice carry through.
"Lord Pong! Lord Pong! You must come with me! Please Sir, please!" it wailed.
Irritated with the interruption, I turned around looking for the source. Seeing naught but soldiers, dead or alive, I roared "Reveal yourself, woman!" and waited.
When noone stepped forth, annoyance threatened to turn into anger until suddenly the voice said "Down here". Lowering my gaze I found my baby brother standing before me.

My mother, bless her soul, gave birth to three healthy sons, aptly naming us all Pong. Unfortunately, something went wrong and she had to watch her oldest grow up a weird young man; a constant stream of nonsense spilling out his front, and putrefying clouds of smelling despair his rear. He was recently sent to Strawtown in shame to work as a scullion and learn to speak only when spoken to.
While my older brother's condition worsened, I was growing up to become the goldenhaired God of War I am today, a perfect image of one of the heroes of old.
The young'un, however, was not as lucky. Under mysterious circumstances, he abruptly stopped growing when he was four years old and as he yesterday stood before me on the battlefield, only his unkempt reddish beard hinted at his true age.
His eyes, a mere two apples' height above ground, locked on to mine. "The commander requests your presence, oh merciless Slayer of Fools!" he said. "It is urgent."
"I will join him immediately." I responded, when preparing to leave I noticed in the little man's eyes a measure of discomfort; he did not relish the prospect of pushing through the milling throng of soldiers on the way back. Leaning down, I asked softly "Will you run with me, Brother?"
Joy and relief flooded his face and happily he reached up to me with tiny arms. Moments later I was running towards the encampment with Junior perched on my left shoulder, not unlike The Pirate and his coloured bird. Squealing with delight he closed his eyes and reached as far out to the sides as he could, I heard him whisper "I'm flying, Pong! I'm flying!"

Upon entering the commandtent, all conversation ceased within and I sensed everyone's eyes on me. "Commander Stone!" I said, raising a mailed fist in salute. "Why am I here?"
The commander gestured and the junior officers and military advisors swiftly filed out until only six people remained, myself included. I watched them silently, waiting for someone to speak.
The three to the right were well known to me, my swordbrothers for a decade and more, battle-hardened veterans all. Timju, The Pirate and Mr Feelman, normally joyous rovers but now standing absolutely still, their faces showing concern.
"Well?" I asked impatiently.
Finally Master Brown-O, the Lord Enchanter, cleared his throat and said "We have received terrible news from the south. Lord Furjo has been overcome."
"Overcome?" I inquired. "Explain."
"He has been enslaved by a witch of infinite beyondness" the commander answered.
"Nonsense!" I responded angrily. "Master Brown-O himself, the mightiest sorceror of the lands, imbued him against any and all hostile enchantments".
"She found a way to breach his defenses. From what information we have been able to gather it seems like she... used her womanly wiles. "
I stared at them in shocked disbelief, grieving already our doomed friend. The using of womanly wiles, darkest of all sorcery, had been outlawed hundreds of years ago during a gathering of representatives from every kingdom, a gathering known today as the Geneva Convention.
"Lord Furjo is lost to us" The Pirate said, scratching his thickly bearded chin which only a short time earlier had been shaved clean. Mr Feelman reached into his pocket and produced a thin sheet of paper. "She sent us this, to gloat and to mock."
When he showed me I saw it was a picture of someone and it took me a moment to recognize him as Furjo the Wise. Only two years ago, when sent on a dangerous mission to the kingdom of Perthia, he had been a glorious young man, full of bright hope for the future. The image before me, however... offered indisputable evidence to his downfall. The picture showed him sitting in a wicker chair, staring dumbly at both nothing and everything, a pale shadow of his former self. But that was not the worst of it, oh no... not the worst at all.
He appeared... happy.

My roar was long and loud.

"I leave for Perthia tomorrow at dusk" I proclaimed.
"You must not!" my commander said sharply. "That's exactly what the witch wants. The reason for sending us this picture in the first place, to goad us into sending our finest, our bravest, our most splendidly handsome... our Pong."
"General Stone is right" Master Brown-O agreed. "You will be walking into a trap".
"Of course it's a trap!" I snapped. "But I must go anyway, and besides, should I fail at least I won't be here to help you comfort the thousands of wailing women grieving me".
"Lord Pong speaks the truth, and though we cannot accompany him on this perilous quest of his, we will aid him in any way we can" said Timju and fetched a reinforced battlechest on wheels. "To store your armor while on the road" he told me. Mr Feelman suddenly gestured and with a thunderclap four weighty tomes appeard out of thin air, "All the knowledge I possess on witches and suchlike. Use it wisely." he said and placed them in the chest. The Pirate drew his razorsharp huntingknife and cut a lock of hair from his beard. Just for a fraction of a moment I glimpsed a patch of skin on hin cheek before the beard grew back. "For good luck" he said as he handed it to me. "Keep it with you always".

I thanked him warmly and turned to the others, "I must away now, I can no longer tarry!". As I turned to leave, Timju and Mr Feelman came up to me. "Make for home and ready your gear, my friend. Tomorrow we escort you to the flightmaster" said Timju. "My thundercarriage will carry us swiftly across the northern plains."

I walked away then, stopping only once to wave farewell to friends I didn't know if I'd see again in this world.

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....osså samma fast på svenska:

åker strax till aussieland. Micke lånade ut nåra böcker till resan och tim sin resväska. om Micke vaknar i tid så åker han me när Tim skjutsar mej till flygplatsen. Henke har tydligen skaffat tjej där nere. skoj.

peace out players /Lord Pong