The man stood at the foot of the altar, practically shaking with anticipation.
After all this time… after all the pain, all the suffering, all the sacrifice… finally, his long journey was nearly over. His destiny stood before him, close enough to touch.
Carefully, the man pulled the small red jewel out of its satchel.
Placing it on the altar with great care, he stepped back, expectantly.
After a moments’ silence, the altar shfited. The sounds of stone, grinding, moaning, crumbling into dust, right before his eyes.
Before long, the dust had formed a haze, a dull cloud that swirled ominously, filling the room and obscuring everything.
The man coughed, holding the satchel to his face to shield himself. But this did little to help, and before long the man was doubled over, coughing furiously and unable to catch his breath.
When he rose, his throat still aflame, he found himself staring at a face in the cloud, an emotionless mask that’s gaze threatened to pierce through the mans’ very soul.
“WHO AWAKENS ME?!?” The face bellowed, in such a tone that echoed in the mans’ chest.
It took a moment for him to find the words, but eventually the man was able to sputter out a loud and confident “IT IS I, THE CHOSEN ONE! I HAVE COME TO FULFILL MY DESTINY, AS THE PROPHECY FORETOLD!”
The Face looked the man up and down, taking in the measure of him while betraying nothing of his own thoughts.
“YES. YES, YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE INDEED. BUT BEFORE YOU FULFILL YOUR DESTINY, THERE IS ONE LAST THING YOU MUST DO!”
The man, bolder than he ever imagined he could be, screamed in protest.
“NO! NO MORE GAMES! I’VE DONE EVERYTHING ASKED OF ME! I DEMAND WHAT I WAS PROMISED!”
“YOU DEMAND, BOY?!? YOU DEMAND?!? DOES YOUR INSOLENCE KNOW NO BOUNDS? I AM A GOD, FOOL! IT IS ONLY MY MERCIFUL NATURE WHICH KEEPS YOUR FOUL TONGUE IN YOUR THROAT!”
The man, properly cowed, stood silent.
“YES… SILENCE. THIS IS THE PROPER REACTION. SILENCE AND AWE.”
The Face softened. His booming voice grew quiet.
“Now, as I said… there is one last thing you must do. You have proven your bravery, you have proven your honor. But you have yet to prove your wit. For only a man who possesses all three traits is considered worthy.”
“With respect, my lord… how do I prove that?”
“In the ancient way, of course. You must solve… The Ridley Of Dearth!”
“…I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
“You must arnsorm the Ridley of Dearth!”
“…I think there might be some dust in my ears, I’m not quite understanding you.”
“The Ridley Of Death! Ridley Of Dearth! Wert is so herg to ongerstang abarr dart?”
“It sounds like you’re saying ridley of dearth….”
“Well, orm not! I’m sarning that you murst arnsorm the Ridley of Dearth if der wock to furgar yarg depinning!”
“…Okay, well… I mean, I would love to do exactly what it is you’re saying, but I think there might be a bit of a language barrier…”
“WERT? ARM EIGH SPARTKIN’ FRIGGIN’ JERPKAMESE HURG? JERST ARNSORM THE DAG RIDLEY OF DEARTH SER WE KIN ALL GOHORNE!”
“Don’t yell at me! I’m trying!”
…And it went on like that for the rest of eternity. The end.
Pryorball. 