Legend of the Black Hand. -- Starbase Rugby: Tankup's Bar

[ Show ]

Support VoyForums

[ Shrink ]

VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Search | Check update time ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 19:24:46 09/20/02 Fri
Author: 'Bug
Subject: Legend of the Black Hand.
In reply to: Llamatron 's message, "Shadow of the Beer" on 17:09:04 09/20/02 Fri

A smelly Maximal staggered and stopped for a moment at the door of one of the Tankup function rooms. A crowd of transformers, humans and the occasional alien nursing their beverages had gathered around an old looking Maximal sat at the room's bar. The lighting had been dimmed so that electroflambeux scattered flickering shadows across the gathering.

Oddly the burnished Maximal appeared to have insect wings folded behind its back despite a relatively standard Maximal silver face complete with standard eyes, nose and mouth - not a mandible in sight.

"Yesh, yesh a terrible time it wash," rumbled the old transformer dramatically, whilst motioning for his quartmug to be refilled. The barbot on duty poured him another dark oil and passed it back to the bugbot whom sipped it appreciatively.

"But let me tell you of an old story, a legend so old that it wash still whispered when you were all a spark in your forger's optic! A story predating the Autobots and Deshepticons!" The crowd leaned forward on their stools as the Bug paused for another sip. "I remember when I wash back in the 'Army during the Great War there wash a tale that struck fear into the heartsh of the lishners...

... the Legend of the Black Hand!"

Most of the crowd gasped quietly, even those whom had heard the story before. However this a lizard Predacon new on the station piped up from a table further back.

"Just old Autobot propaganda!" he sneered. "That's against the Pax Cybertro-"

"Youuu be quiet back there, protoform, or you'll feel the back of my hand so you will!" admonished the storyteller accompanied by shushing from others in the crowd, even from a few other Predacons and Decepticons. "Where wash I? Oh yesh - Black Hand.

The story goes that there wash once a Warrior who served in an army who excelled before all others in his brigade, but his Companions were unworthy and envied his talents. They decided to test him-"

"If this is before the Great War why were there armies?" the Predacon heckler asked. Once again he was shushed, but a few eyes and optics looked questioningly at the storyteller.

"There were armiesh before the Decepticonsh my little schraplet," replied the storyteller with a twinkle in his optic. "Anyway his companions decided to test him with feats of valour.

First there wash the Test of Fire. The Warrior's First Companion set a great inferno and asked him if he could face the fire, and the Warrior swept his blade across the fires," the old Maximal swung his quartmug in front of him wetting the front members of the audience slightly. "Dimming them so he could walk the inferno from length to length.

'I have faced the fire and returned untouched,' he told his Companions.

Well this did not sit well with the Companions and they went away for a day and a night and a day, gathering at the next 'eve to set the Warrior another test.

'Great Warrior, with such mighty swordsmanship you must be able to cut the very night air,' wheedled the Second Companion. The Warrior climbed a great mountain. He took his sword up and swept his blade across the night carving day from night. The front row of the audience found themselves brushing off droplets of oil from the gesticulating old Maximal. "He came back down from the mountain and said,

'I have faced the night and return untouched.'"

"Well this did not sit well with the Companions and they went away for a day and a night and a day, gathering at the next 'eve to set the Warrior another test. The Companions filled a valley with fearful sharp blades.

'Mighty Warrior, with such great courage you must be able to walk the Valley of Blades,' said his Third Companion. The Warrior confronted the valley, SWEPT his sword across the valley and broke all the sharp blades so he could walk the valley from length to length.

'I have faced the blades and returned untouched,' he told his Companions, whom were mightily vexed.

The Companions went away for a day and a night and a day, and came back to a great boulder carrying hidden weapons.

'A sword in the hands of a Warrior is a great and fearful thing, yet it is not greater than the Warrior. Surely such an awesome Warrior does not need his sword to lift a mere rock?' they said obsequiously. So the Warrior set aside his sword and lifted the great boulder above his head.

And his Companions said, 'You shall not return untouched!' They struck him with their hidden weapons, extinguished his Spark, stole his sword, and buried him without marker or memory!" The crowd inhaled in shock, even the heckling Predacon.

"Well the Companions were well pleased with themselves and celebrated for a day and a night and a day. But then they began to quarrel over the spoils of their treachery. The first Companion wanted to melt it away in the hottest fires so they would never be found. The second Companion wanted to sell it under cover of night. The third Companion wanted to keep it and become as great as the true owner, forgetting that the real value of a Warrior is not measured by his weapons.

The First Companion stole the sword from and took it far away to the greatest forge in the land. But as he placed it on the anvil a Shadow with optics of flame fell across him and said,

'I have faced the fire and return untouched.'

The Shadow gripped the First Companion and opened the furnace doors.

'Will you face the fire?'

The First Companion howled and begged to be released, but the Shadow asked him three and three times. Once the First Companion was filled to the brim with fear the Shadow burned the Companion's face and marked the forge with a black hand.

The First Companion sought out the Second Companion, gave him the sword and fled whilst his face still burned.

The Second Companion searched far and wide for someone whom would buy the blade, but no-one with honour would touch it so the Companion was forced to sell it at night on a dark mountain. However just as he was taking his monies a Shadow fell across him and said,

'I have faced the night and return untouched.'

The Shadow gripped the Second Companion and put his fingers on the Companion's optics.

'Will you face the night?'

The Second Companion screamed and pleaded for the Shadow to free him, but the Shadow asked him three and three times. Once the Second Companion was wreathed in horror the Shadow took the Companion's optics and marked the top of the mountain with a black hand.

The Second Companion sought out the Third Companion, gave him the sword and fled whilst fuel poured from the sockets of his optics.

The Third Companion took up the sword and found a place in the wilderness to meditate on the mighty weapon. But as he prayed a Shadow fell across him and said,

'I have faced the blades and returned untouched.'

The Shadow gripped the Third Companion and put the blade to the Companion's wrists.

'Will you face the blades?'

The Third Companion struggled and shouted in dismay for the Shadow to release him, but the Shadow asked him three and three times. Once the Third Companion's terror overwhelmed him the Shadow took the Companion's hands and marked the wilderness with a black hand.

The Shadow and his sword were not seen again, but sometimes even today a trecherous Maximal or Predacon is found maimed and terrified, their deeds marked...

...marked by the Black Hand!"

The hairy Maximal grunted at the conclusion of the tale and continued on his erratic path to the bar, but the inside the crowd seemed impressed and gathered around to buy the bugbot more drinks - even the heckling Predacon. The barbot smiled at the storyteller and said, "You're worth your weight in... well, gold!" The two of them laughed at their private joke as patrons gathered asking for another story.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Defective Wallets. -- Llamatron, 18:40:42 10/04/02 Fri