It is the Feast on the Eve of Battle of KALARAKA VII. Long, oak tables are laden with exotic foodstuffs that are at once unfamiliar and yet also clearly the food of warriors (tentacles twitch in soups, roasted meats are slavered with green gravy, knobbly vegetables etc). It’s a bit dark in there, with columns and shadows and all sort of evil-ish corners looming.
RAMA III WARRIORS attack the meal with ferocity. There are no niceties here - eat or be eaten - and the place is a riot of guzzling. It is a badge of honour to rip meat from the bone with your teeth. The bigger the bite, the better. Flagons and chalices of mind-smashing drinks are sloshed around everywhere. There are sounds of singing, arguing, fighting, snarling, raucous laughter etc. It is a time of excitement and fatalism.
A robed, bejewelled individual enters the room, with great ceremony and surrounded by beautiful women warriors. He is at least 7ft tall, with the most pasty-like skull and the most sunken, fiercest eyes. The room falls silent. It is the IMPERIAL WARRIOR KORB yak-F’ANGAK. The leader of all RAMA. Battle-scarred and noble, he has never lost a fight, and has sacrificed much to reach his position. Trumpets hail his arrival at the head of the table, where his throne awaits.
There is great cheering and energetic shouting as he stands to address the assembled hoardes.
KORB: Thank you my brethren. Mighty are your voices on this glorious evening.
(cheers)
KORB: And mighty will they be on the morrow, for we fight for the glory of RAMA!
(cheers, stamping, etc)
KORB: And we fight against a grievous, ghastly foe. The baby-eating insectoids of KALARAKA VII.
(boos, hisses)
KORB: For too long this stain on the galaxy has been allowed to fester. Their foul antennae look to pollute the Inner Planets with their hideous hives. This cannot continue. And it will not!
(cheers)
KORB: Are we not RAMA? Do we not have the gnarled hands of soldiers? Have we not scrapped and smited and smashed our way from the rubble of our humble beginnings? Our hearts and souls are hardened and ready to take on allcomers! We are...
COLIN (interrupting): Um, sorry KORB The Mighty, um, can I..
KORB: WHAT?
COLIN: I mean yeah HAIL KORB! Can I just...
KORB(cut off in mid flow and thrown): Yes Colin, spit it out.
COLIN: It’s just that I had a little bit too much, y’know. Madness Mead. And I could do with a [whispers] toilet.
KORB[whispers]: Did you not go before we started. Every time. I swear to the Dark Lord Kang...
COLIN: Sorry boss. I’m bustin.
KORB: Well off you go then. [recovers himself] AND ON THIS EVE OF... hang on, before I carry on, does anyone else need to go?
(silence)
KORB: Look, if you need to, then go now. This is your last chance.
(quite a few other WARRIORS get up, rather noisily but also sheepishly, and sidle outside. We hear various streams and sighs of release).
KORB: Honestly. Where was I now? Anyone?
VOICE of FANG THE BASTARD: Baby-eating insectoids.
KORB: Ah yes thank you FANG THE BASTARD. How’s your mother? Still got that suppurating wart of doom on her face?
FANG: No, it’s gone now.
KORB: Ah well pass on my regards, she and I go back a long way.
FANG: No, I mean, her head's gone. I sort of... decapitated her. A bit.
KORB: Oh. Well. Er. Well done. Excellent. Yes. The weak shall not hold back the strong and all that. So. Baby-eaters. Right. NEVER shall the name of those evil, ugly galaxy-stealing thorax-vibrating monsters be in the mouth of our descendents! Ours shall be the last and final genera...
(commotion as the warriors sidle back to their places. Lots of sotto-voce apologies etc.)
KORB: Ours shall be the last and final generation to know of the foulness we have vanquished! For we will vanquish! Our battle cannons are ready! They are primed! They are loaded!
(COLIN has his hand up)
KORB: They are... oh for the love of.. what is it Colin?
COLIN: HAIL KORB! MAY THY SEED DESTROY THINE ENEMIES!
KORB: Yes, yes, what do you want?
COLIN: It’s just.. is it really... necessary to bring the cannons?
KORB (astonished): Is it...?
COLIN: I mean, I love their destructive force and the way their sacred ammo flays away the very skin of our enemies, and all. It’s just that I’ve got little KAL-ZA tomorrow. It’s my weekend, see. And his mother’s off gallavanting with that prick GA-REE from Zumba.
KORB: I fail to see the problem. Is KAL-ZA not a warrior in training? Has he not been vested with the swordsmanship of generations? This can be his greatest hour - the one he becomes... a WARRIOR!
(cheers)
COLIN: Um. Yeah, that’s true. But er, he’s got, um. An ear infection.
KORB: An ear infection.
COLIN: Yeah, so, you know. Loud noises...
(KORB shakes his head as if to rid himself of this bizarre turn of events. He draws himself up to his full height, takes a deep breath and begins to address the room again.)
KORB: AND ON THE MORROW... [to Colin] would earplugs work? Or some of those, you know, they look like headphones but they’re not plugged in.
VOICE: They’re called Ear Defenders O Demonic One.
KORB: Yes, thank you. [To a minion, offstage]: Can you pop down to B&M and see if they’ve still got those ear things... I don’t care what colour! The honour of RAMA is at stake! ... yes. Ooh and see if they’ve got those minty Dime Bars. I shouldn’t really, but they’re so moreish.
VOICE: You’ll burn it off in battle, Sire.
KORB: Good point. So. OK. Um. Tonight... TONIGHT we dine on this magnificent feast, but tomorrow we will EAT THE EYES OF THE ENEMY. And we will wash it down with their very BLOOD!
(Cheers)
KORB: And we will... Oh god. Yes Colin.
COLIN: Will there be a vegan option?
KORB: WHAT? No. WHAT?
COLIN: Yeah cause I mean I do love devouring the lifeblood of the fallen, and rending their flesh from their broken bones, you know that. Can’t get enough. Usually.
KORB: What? Usually?
COLIN: Yeah um, I’m trying to cut out green meat. You know? Cholestorol. I mean. I want to be a warrior for a bit longer and you don’t see many tubby RAMAns really. My doc said I was heading toward borderline diabetic and at my age you know it’s a struggle.
KORB: Tell me about it. One look at a MAKALIAN WOE CAKE and it goes straight on my hips. It’s a curse, it really is.
COLIN: So, I mean. I don’t want to make trouble, but I just thought if we could, you know, pack some salad in our battle-armour pockets, that’d be appreciated.
KORB: Salad?
COLIN: Yeah.
KORB [to a minion]: Can you check the BOOKS OF THE ANCESTORS about this? I can’t remember reading about salad. Gore, yes. Dancing on the still-pulsating brains of your foes. God, yeah. Loads of it. Salad, not so much. ...
KORB [to COLIN]: AIKA the RASCAL is going to check. OK?
COLIN: You truly are the wisest of all the generations. May your name be exalted amongst the stars!
KORB: Yes, alright, ok. Now. Anything else?
COLIN: ... no.
KORB: OK. [Addresses the room again, in speech mode]: So we will FIGHT FOR THE HONOUR OF OUR ANCESTORS and we will FIGHT FOR THE HONOUR OF RAMA. And we will WIN! We Will WIN! We Will WIN!
DISSOLVE
CAPTION: THE GREAT HALL OF THE INSECTOIDS OF KALARAKA VII.
Honeycomb, very different. A hive of scum and villany, etc. INSECTOIDS are assembled in front of a DIAS, at which their leader
“”. ’”’’ is speaking:
“”. ’”’’: .....**.***!!!
(Caption: The RAMA are weak! We are as one!)
INSECTOIDS: *****
(Caption: HOORAY!)
“”. ’”’’: .*^^^^**^(^....>>>>>...!!
(Caption: Their ferocity shall be their downfall. Our hive’s intelligence and cunning will prevail! We are...)
AN INSECTOID (interrupting): .....***
(Caption: Will there be snacks?)
FIN
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