War of the Writers

Marsellus Arulius sat huddled underneath a tree in a lively forest. He was currently reading a book by a quite prolific author by the name of Ervyn Peake. His mentor, Master Guggenheimner, had required that Ervyn Peake be on Marsellus' reading list. It would help to polish his skills--no doubt--reading the work of such a voluminous author. Though Marsellus could not now see how he could improve his own flair for coming up with characters of a rather charismatic nature, as Ervyn Peake lacked such a skill, or--at least--that is what Marsellus perceived after reading through only the first few chapters. But he was a master in his own way. Indeed, Ervyn Peake used many words throughout this current story that simply confounded the young upstart. Many times Marsellus would have to refer to his handy dictionary to look up words, which slowed down the reading process. But this was a required reading set forth by his master, and he no doubt had only his good in mind when selecting it.

Finally Marsellus came to the end of chapter three and decided to call it quits for the day. He stood up and brought his grey cloak closer about him and, taking his dictionary and book in hand, headed for Master Guggenheimner's dwelling place. Marsellus loved reading stories in the calm and heart of the forest. It produced a rather relaxing effect for him, what with the birds chirping and the trees swaying every time the wind blew, there was no other better place then to sit down in a forest and cuddle up with a great book. Master Guggenheimner's dwelling place was a little over ten miles from the heart of the forest and it took Marsellus about three hours to finally get to his home. He had, of course, done this many times before, so getting lost was out of the question. When he made it home he gave his master the following greeting:

"Hello, master," he said. Master Guggenheimner looked up from reading his own book and greeted the young lad.

"Ah, I see that you've returned, Marsellus. And how would you rate your current selection of Ervyn Peake? Good? Bad? Perhaps somewhere in between? Let's hear it, young lad." Marsellus was at first at a loss to form his opinion of the beginning of Everyn Peake's story. After some reflection he finally spoke:

"It was--it was good for what it was, I guess," said Marsellus. "But his style is quite complicated, the way he puts words together and such. If I hadn't had my dicitionary on hand I would've been lost while reading. Are you absolutely certain that you want me to read his works? I mean, I thought I was going at a rather steady pace while reading the works of Chauncey and Debanare, but now it seems like you're accelarating my development. May I ask why?"

Master Guggenheimner looked a little disappointed to hear the reply of Marsellus. He then placed his book on a coffee table, stood up from his chair, and headed toward his apprentice.

"Trust my foresight, young lad," said Master Guggeinheimner as he placed his hand on the shoulder of Marsellus. "I am well in control of your development. You don't necessarily have to pattern your work off of Ervyn Peake, or even Chauncey and Debanare for that matter. I just thought it would be interesting to expose you to someone like an Ervyn Peake. And while you found his style to be complicated, let me just say--in his defense--that he has many fans throughout all of Morovia. Besides, your lack of comprehension of Ervyn Peake's word selection just shows that you have to expand your vocabulary."

"But on the battlefield what good would an enhanced vocabulary give you?" said Marsellus. "What I mean to say is, you're surrounded by enemies who are driven to see you fall by their hands. And now that I say what I say I am curious as to something: is Ervyn Peake fighting in the war with the Poets?"

"No," said Master Guggenheimner. "He did not train to become a warrior and writer such as yourself, young Marsellus Arulius. He has chosen to forsake fighting. Though the Fictitious could use someone on the battlefield like an Ervyn Peake." Here Master Guggenheimner bent his head, as if he was in reflection on what he just said. After a time he spoke again. "But that was the path that he chose for himself, just like you have a path that you have chosen, to help tip the scales of the war for the Ficititious, and I believe that you are capable of doing just that."

"Thank you, master," said Marsellus with a smile. "I'm glad to hear that you think of me so highly."

"Yes, well, don't become so heady because of it," said Master Guggenheimner. "You still have a long way to go before you enlist in the war. Now why don't you go and write some more of your story. I'm halfway through Traunt's latest offering and after I finish it I may instruct you for the day on the art of causing delusions to your enemies."

"Yes, Master Guggenheimner," said Marsellus with a bow. Marsellus then made his way to his room. He immeadiately ambled toward his desk where his notebook lay and started adding to his story. The title of his story was called Velius, named after the antagonist. He had high hopes for it. Apart from it being the first in a three-part fantasy epic, he wanted it to become his first published work. He was three-fourths through writing the first installment in the series and he was currently at a critical juncture, one where Velius himself showed up to stop the main characters from attaining a mythical pendant of sorts. He wrote as if one in haste, though there was also his customary editing as he went along. Every word, every sentence had to pass his vigorous scrutiny. When he finally did get up to the point where the protagonists meet the antagonist he decided to quit there, leaving the story to unfold at another time.

With the latest addition of his story complete, he decided to trek back into the forest while awaiting his master's completion of Traunt's latest offering. Before he left he informed Master Guggenheimner of his intentions. The old master told him that he would journey to meet him after he finished reading the book. After that Marsellus headed for the forest. His thoughts now were focused wholly on the war between the Poets and the Fictitious. The war had been going on for the last three years. It had begun when the High King of Laurencia had gathered together all of the Poets he could muster and announced his plan to conquer the known world. The free peoples of Morovia then allied themselves together in the interest of holding back the hand of the High King. The free peoples were mostly backed up with members of the Fictitious band of writers, though there was some Poets who realized just how evil and ambitious the High King's plans were.

Now his thoughts moved toward his master. Master Guggenheimner had trained many before encountering the youthful Marsellus. The two had met at a gathering of writers throughout the land all trying to garner the support of the old and learned master. Master Guggenheimner had hosted the gathering, and out of all of the potentials he chose Marsellus after reading over some of his work. That was a little over three months ago.
Marsellus thought it fate that he'd been chosen above so many other capable writers, all with aspirations of joining the war for the side of the Fictitious. He smiled to himself. He would work hard to make his master proud of his decision.

Then he noticed something. There was a person making his way through the forest about fifty yards away from where he was walking. It was hard to get a good view of the figure at first because of all the plantlife obstructing his view, but as he moved closer he became certain of who it was.

"Hampton!" said Marsellus.

"Marsellus," said Hampton with a wry smile.

Marsellus and Hampton had known each other from years passed. Hampton had, in fact, traveled with Marsellus to the gathering of the different writers under the supervision of Master Guggenheimner in hopes of being chosen himself. After he was rejected, however, Marsellus lost contact with his longtime friend, as he went into training with his master. He was ever so curious to learn of Hampton's whereabouts during the last three months.

"How I've missed you!" said Marsellus as he embraced his friend. "Tell me everything! Where have you been these last three months?"

"That is the reason why I have sought you out, my friend," said Hampton. "I was in Laurencia."

"Laurencia?" said Marsellus. "What in all of Morovia were you doing in Laurencia?"

"Training, Marsellus. Polishing my craft under the supervision of a well-trained master." Maresellus was aghast. He replayed Hampton's words in his mind several times to insure that what he was hearing was right. Finally he came to terms with what Hampton had said: he had joined High King Benedict of Laurencia and the swarm of Poets under his command.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" said Marsellus. "You've joined with Laurencia?"

"Indeed I have!" said Hampton anxiously. "And I have come to recruit you as well! You must come with me, Marsellus! It is only a matter of time before Laurencia governs all of Morovia. It would be wise, my old friend. Wise beyond words." Marsellus was at a loss for words. To find out that his best friend of so many years had turned his back on the Fictitious was hard to take. Finally, after a protracted wait, Marsellus spoke to his friend.

"I can't turn my back on Master Guggenheimner, nor the cause of the free peoples of Morovia. You're asking me to do too much." Hampton was visibly disappointed to hear this. He then spoke:

"Well, perhaps I can find some means to persuade you? Perhaps after you've tasted a bit of my power you'll reconsider."

"'Your power?'" said Marsellus. "I don't quite follow you. What do you mean 'your power'?"

"I mean, simply this: Marsellus Arulius, young and fair. Down he'll go, I sent him there." Suddenly, Marsellus felt as if some otherwordly force was imposing its will on him, as he began to sink to the ground. Hampton spoke again as he made his way closer to Marsellus: "Your mind's perplexed, I'll tell you why, I was sent to vex if you didn't comply." Now Marsellus felt tormented in his mind. He couldn't believe what was going on, his friend of so many years had betrayed him.

"Now that you've seen what I can do perhaps you'll reconsider? You can have the same power, Marsellus, but you must first foresake that old fool Guggenheimner and his delusions. Join with the Poets!" Marsellus was still hunched over on the ground when he heard the voice of Master Guggenheimner.

"Young Hampton sets forth on an evil mission, Guggenheimner steps in to teach him a lesson." Unexpectantly Hampton felt a pain in his side and he lurched over to one side. Guggenheimner continued: "Now run away quickly to your deluded king, and come again no more, to try this thing." Now Hampton felt the impulse to run away and he did just that. Master Guggenheimner came over to where Marsellus lay.

"Are you all right?" he said.

"Yes--I'm fine. Just a little shaken up, that's all."

"Good. Now come. It is high time I taught you the art of delusion."

Marsellus followed closely behind his master and for the first time since his choosing he realized just how big of a task lay ahead of him.