A bit of Historical Fun, from the beginning of Time: Gerbil's Saga

Daniel Dorn

Daniel Dorn

Gold Member
Joined
Apr 21, 1999
Messages
5,318
Back in the winter of '99, things were a lot simpler around here. We had fewer than 2000 members, and we were all pretty much noobies. The Sebenza had a blade of the day's premium steel; Benchmade was making quality Balisongs; Spyderco was making ugly knives that worked hard, Microtech was making the best Out The Front autos, Cliff Stamp was testing knives to destruction, and INFI had an almost cult-like following. Yup, life was different.

In these dark ages there was one man who inspired us beyond measure. He was idolized by many, and few were brave enough to emulate his insanity. He was The Great Vampire Gerbil! Ask any member worth his salt, and he'll have a story or two to tell.

Anyway, there were various esteemed members of this forum, elite members of a select group, prestigious leaders of our tiny community, and any other folks who wanted to join, who created a Society based on the Barbaric history of our society's early days. They called themselves the Terrible Ironic Horde.

As an act of creativity, or insanity, (you be the judge) a few of them, lead by Paracelsus, decided to imortalize the Great Gerbil in an epic Saga. Each member was allowed to add whatever, whenever they wanted, and all entries were welcome. This inspired tale is no Pulitzer Prize candidate, nor will it ever be published, but it was hell-a entertaining!

It no longer exists in the Archives, but I thought I might share it with you all.

I've painstakingly edited it, and tried to minimize any inconsistencies, but I'll let it stand as it is: A masterful creation from the unstable minds of a few select individuals, who believed they had something to contribute the the Legend of the Great Undead Rodent.

Feel free to post comments. I need to know if you want me to continue to post the story, or if it's just not worth your time.

Thanks,
Daniel

This is for you, Dave...RIP
 
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Here's the intro. I'll post larger sized bits, as we get further into this.

Allrighty then, I think it is about time that the Terrible Ironic Horde started something New besides just signing up for membership, picking weapons, and listening to barbaric music. Anyone new who wants to join up and post in this thread should make application for membership in the 'Horde Lives' thread after carefully reading all relevant entrance requirements (e.g. ya gotta Want to join, and ya gotta pick some sort of heroic and hopefully, Barbarian sounding name. The name Barbara is Strongly discouraged. I can pretty much guarantee sad and unfortunate encounters with our Strong Willed Horde brothers for anyone going by the name Barbara Barbarian).
So, that said, I thought I would start a Saga. This saga will be written in many chapters. Each Horde member in turn, or out of turn, it doesn’t really matter, should try to pick up the Saga where it left off and take it a little further down the road. If we are really creative, we will end up with a Heroic Saga of our own, recanting deeds of Satirical Battle, Wit, and Clashes of Terrible Irony. Verse, Ballads, Scaldic Verse and Sarcasms are Strongly encouraged. I'll start.

GERBIL'S SAGA
A tale of many parts

Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a land far away, lived a small boy. The boy had a name, but it has long since been forgotten by all that know him. He was kind of funny looking, and talked differently than the other children, and he liked to play with knives. Just to tease him, the other kids started calling him Gerbil. Sometimes all the other kids gathered around him and pointed at him, saying Looki, Looki! The boy didn't really mind being funny looking or being called Gerbil. In fact he enjoyed all the attention he received from the other kids.
But his parents were Very worried about him. They tried to make him look, act, and dress like all the other kids in the neighborhood. They even took away all of his knives. But somehow, Gerbil always seemed to come home with a new one, and stashed them away in various secret places. Gerbil didn't grow up the way they had hoped. He just kept getting weirder and weirder, until one day, his parents told him to go out into the world and fend for himself.
Gerbil shrugged, accepted his Fate in the way only a True Warrior could, gathered up all of his knives, packed up his World Bag with a few provisions, and set off down the road, into the wide wonderful wacky world, to find His Own Way. Along the road he hoped to meet all sorts of wonderful people, weird and ferocious beasts and demons, and magical beings. Gerbil knew that someday, his name would be told in heroic tales, far and wide. Who knew, maybe he might even grow up to become Prezident someday. After walking for miles, Gerbil came upon....
Paracelsus (edited 28 December 1999).]
 
After trudging for miles, the Gerb came upon a man hunkered down next to what looked like a Schwinn bike on steroids, who was cursing and wailing about his poor knuckles. The Gerb sat down to enjoy this spectacle.
"Hi, I'm the Gerb" he said.
"I'm Wondernine, and this here's muh squaw" he gestured toward the now repaired sikkle.
A large logo proclaimed the mysterious beast to be a Injun and it looked to be about 1946 vintage, which would explain the knuckle busting.
"Come on, kid," W9 said to him. "Let's you and me motate!"
"No arguments." said the Gerb as he climbed aboard behind W9 and they ambulated off down a road which signs proclaimed to be "Root 66." After a while they came to a shrine and they pulled over. Wondernine and the Gerb entered the shrine and W9 showed him how to circumambulate around the altar, which he called the Olymp.
After a dizzying session of whirling and circumabulating, the Gerb noticed an enormous pistol and a couple a extra clips on the "Olymp."
"That's the sacred 1911," Wondernine intoned in a strange, far-off voice. "It'll stop anything and nary a man nor beast is proof against its awesome power."
"But, why do they call you Wondernine, if you worship the great 1911?"
"That's a joke, son. I say, that's a joke, son." He shuffled back toward his Injun sikkle. "A wondernine is an inadequate caliber pistol with an enormous magazine capacity, so as to avoid the blight on mankind called "adequate shot placement."
"Gotcha!" said the Gerb as he bade farewell to his newfound friend and trudged off down Root 66 toward the setting sun.
Parabellum 9

As Gerb continued down the road darkness set in. Gerb was getting tired and hungry. Soon in the distance he heard the soulful baying of a large Dog. Gerb approached the Dog with caution, but when he was within twenty yards the Dog stopped his howling and sitting on his hunches he turned his head and said, "AwwwOoooo…I know you’re there. You can come out…AwwwOoooo." Gerb was startled, but knew he couldn't hide from the large white Dog.
As he approached the Dog hopped up and tail wagging closed the distance between the two. Now Gerb could see something strapped to the Dog's back, it was a very large knife in a DunDee rig. The Dog jumped up and placed his front paws on Gerb's shoulders, easily matching his height.
"Hi Bud, I can sense you’re OK!!! Are you looking for something to eat?" The Gerb replied that he was, but how could the Dog help? Dog first said, " let me introduce myself, I'm known by two names, you'll know me as Lucky Dog."
Lucky led Gerb over to a huge Oak tree, where under it four rabbits lay, stretched out in a row. If you'll make a fire, and skin and cook these rabbits, we can have a good meal" said the big white Dog, to which Gerb agreed.
Gerb set about making a fire under the Oak, and taking from his pack a custom Rainy Vallotton scale release switchblade he deftly made short work of skinning the four rabbits. While he was busying himself with his task, Lucky found several slender branches to roast the fat rabbits on.
The two new friends set in silence and enjoyed their meal. Gerb concentrated on his food because it was the first thing he had eaten that day, and while Lucky did an adequate job of devouring two rabbits, he never stopped scanning the edges of the campsite.
After a pile of rabbit bones lay on the ground between the two companions, there was a rustling in the bushes. Lucky jumped to his feet and let a low, deep growl escape from his muzzle which was stretched back to reveal a row of huge teeth.
Suddenly from just ahead of the two campers a bent figure dressed in rags shambled from the scrub and quickly closed the distance between itself, Gerb and Lucky. The horrible figure pounced on Gerb, placed it's claw-like hands around the startled young man's throat, and revealed from its stench producing mouth two long fangs, ready to sink them into the struggling Gerb.

Lucky reached back with his massive head and grabbed the large knife from his back in a reverse icepick grip in his mouth, leapt on the Mutant and with one quick motion severed the head of the aberration. The head rolled from the now jerking corpse into the fire where it popped and let off a horrible smell.
Gerb, now badly shaken set up and said, "What…what was THAT!!!" Lucky walked over set in front of Gerb and replied, "It's a Y2K Mutant, never hesitate to kill them on sight, and never let one of them bite you, because they will give you a thirst for blood that will never be quenched. I've had to kill many of them, for which I've been given my other name, Dog of War."
The next morning after a fitful sleep for Gerb, and no sleep for the watchful Lucky, the two new friends agreed to set off down the road together.
Lucky Dog
 
Just a week or two ago i thought about that barbaric community I had
joined ages ago, but I couldn't remember the name.
It was the Terrible Ironic Horde :)

Thanks for filling that in.
I believe I even contributed a piece to the epic.
I also remember a website where all the members were listed.
I wonder if anyone has that list.

Doc the Deceiver (is on that list)
 
I will have to wait 'til Monday, as the file is on my work computer.

Stay tuned...

DD
 
That's probably more than I read when it was first posted.
I'm looking forward to reading more.
Good work DD.
 
Here's Doc's bit, as well as the introduction of the "Riddle of Steel" element. Happy reading!

DD

After a journey of 40 days and nights, the trio came to the edge of a vast wasteland. Once they came upon the trailhead, the three noticed a gilded sign which bore the following inscription: "Abandon all hope ye who dare enter the protectorate of Skullonia." "You are entering the vast and terrible wasteland of Tukh-Sa'an Ahry-Tsohn'na." Gerb clutched his world bag tightly, W9 and Lucky Dog took a couple of deep breaths and the three proceeded.
All was well unto the 7th hour of their trek. Soon, thirst, fatigue & hallucinations started. Gerb stopped, closed his eyes and listened. In the distance, strains of music wafted upon the howling winds of the wasteland.
As they followed the sounds, a compound was spotted in the distance, and all three adventurers began to run towards it. As the trio approached the great gate, seemingly constructed of a solid piece of desert iron wood, They saw that the ramparts all bore Howitzers of varying calibers and types--all billowing smoke and sulfur from their angry muzzles!
The strains of music grew louder and louder until the three were forced to cover their ears and cry out in pain. The fiendish and phrenetic rhythms were at first disheartening, but as the pounding, almost explosive, percussion pervaded the gateway, the three began to re-embolden themselves and nod their heads in time to the music. As can best be determined, the sound was a combination of: "O Fortuna" from "Orff's Carmina Burana" and "Break Stuff" from "Limp Bizkit"!
They entered and began to search the premises. An antechamber was discovered...but nothing! They soon discovered a hidden narrow passage way located behind a tapestry which bore the image of a Golden Twinkie.
Upon entering the passageway, the trio was immediately overtaken with the aroma of confectionary death! It was as if a Sarah Lee "Fruits of the Forest" pie had just been slaughtered and cooked! The pathway stretched approx. 50 feet to a kitchen-like chamber, where a grisly sight was discovered.
A Man. A table. The gooey entrails of the slain SL"FOTF" Pie were all over the walls, on the ceiling, on the floor, all over the man's face and armor, and to the group's horror and disgust, dripping down the 14" granten-edged Forschner scimitar-bladed butcher knife! Interestingly enough though, despite the grisly sight of dripping pie-entrails on the fierce weapon, the epoxied samurai-wrap handle seemed unaffected and its non-slip features intact!
The man ceased his grotesque meal and looked at the group and said, "Who art thou that dare interrupt my meal?" Surprisingly, the three stepped forward, with their chins proudly stretched out and replied, " We three are adventurers in search of truth--The Riddle of Steel!"

The house master's brow unfurrowed, he stood up and let out a laugh heretofore unheard, "HAH!" He immediately embraced the three and offered them seats at his table. The man then piled heaping stench-filled piles of pie-guts in front of each one and offered them tankards of his best 2% milk.
"I am Redleg, protector of Skullonia, Conductor of the Musicians of Mars, and wielder of Pie-Slayer"!(lifting Pie-Slayer above his head...) "Oh mighty Pie-Slayer, conqueror of baked desserts and master of fluffy sweet concoctions, serve me well"! Afer which, he said, "My brave and stalwart fellows, I will join your band and accompany you on your search for the Riddle of Steel"! "Tonight we will rest, and upon dawn's early light, we shall set out." "Now come, eat..." Redleg

Eventually, the companions arrived at a field where a band of journeymen had set up tents and wagons and were selling all sorts of goods. Gerbil decided he had better find a good sword before resuming his journey. On his left he spied a small, handsome man rapidly opening and closing a small knife. Gerbil said to the man
"Greetings, I am Gerbil and I wish to buy a sword"
"Well met, Gerbil, I am Doc and I sell these folding swords. They're made by Glesser of the Golden Mountains"
"But there is a hole in the blade Doc" said Gerbil. "I don't want one of those"
"One day you will" smiled Doc and disappeared into the crowd.
Several wagons later Gerbil found another sword seller named Maklong. "I make the finest swords in the land" said Maklong.
"Good, that's what I need" answered Gerbil. Maklong said "My swords can cut a dragon in two with 1 swing and can kill a mad dog just by shaking it at him"
"I'll take one" replied Gerbil.
"That will be 900 gold, but it's guaranteed for life" said Maklong.
"That's a lot, but I need a good one" answered Gerbil. At that, he reached for his gold pouch and discovered that he had a knot in the thongs. He picked up the Maklong sword and tried to cut the strings, but the sword started to fall apart as if made of glass and tinkled to the ground.
"This is a piece of dung" screamed Gerbil.
"Well, you still owe me 900 gold" answered Maklong.
"I thought they were guaranteed for life" retorted Gerbil.
"Well, not if you're going to abuse them by cutting old, hard, leather strings" pronounced Maklong.
At that point, Gerbil stormed away, W9 kick started the Injun, Redleg spilled custard on the table and Dog Of War peed on Maklong's leg.

And so our heroes search on for the perfect sword and new adventures...
Doc4570"Doc The Deceiver"
Self-appointed Minister Of Truth for the TERRIBLE IRONIC HORDE
 
After bidding farewell to his companions, Gerb set off by himself. He'd decided to head east, because it rhymed with yeast, and that always made Gerb giggle. After traveling along for a few hours, Gerb decided to camp for the night. He gathered up some firewood, and built a roaring fire at the edge of a small clearing. The surrounding trees seemed dark and forbidding, but Gerb was not a jumpy lad and set to warming his toes by the fire. He soon was nodding sleepily. All at once a voice whispered in his ear,
"What blade does pretty want?"
Gerb jumped to his feet, and looked around wildly. No one was in sight, and he'd just about convinced himself that he'd dreamed the whole thing, when he noticed that he was dressed in a pink skirt and ballerina slippers. His shirt was ten sizes too small, and had the word "pretty" across the chest in glitter. Gerb promptly fainted.
ptpalpha

The soft light of dawn put a rose colored glow on Gerbil's eyelids, and a warm wet feeling was enveloping his cheek. Gerbil became aware of a loud roaring sound in the distance. He flickered his eyes and looked up to see two large blue eyes staring down at him in concern. Lucky Dog was standing over him licking his cheek. As he sat-up he saw Wondernine speeding around in circles on the rear tire of his Squaw. To the left Redleg seemed to be squatting in front of a make shift oven built of fieldstones. He was squinting into the oven and pushing and prodding something in it with a long flat stick.
"What's…what's going on?" said the Gerb in a somewhat shaky voice. Just then he looked down to see his strange attire. "What the hay!!! How did I get in these freakish clothes?"
Lucky Dog backed away several steps and shook his massive head giving out a loud snort. "I knew we shouldn't let you go off on your own, so we followed you" said the Big Dog. "It looks like you've had a visit from some of the tricksters of the forest. Your other clothes are over there, why don't you go change."
After Gerb changed back into his buck skin pants and leather tunic, the four travelers set down near a Birch Tree to eat some huge Toll House Cookies that Redleg had baked in his field oven. Watching Redleg eat was a funny thing because he wore a large, too large Chefs hat on his head that kept slipping down over his eyes, and every time he took a bite he would ask his friends if they liked his baked goods and nod vigorously at their approval sending the hat further down his head.
After the meal Gerbil threw the strange outfit he awoke in, in the fire under the oven, never wanting to think of it again. The friends gathered up their positions and headed further down the road, toward a distant mountain on the horizon.
As noon approached, the sound of rushing water could be heard in the distance. After another two miles a large river reveled it self as the four went around a bend in the road. The river was wide and appeared deep. "How are we going to cross this?" Wondernine queried "I certainly can't ride my Squaw through that" "We'll have to build a raft" answered Redleg "look for some straight logs in the woods."
The friends found a stand of trees that were straight and true a short distance from the river. Redleg took out his Pieslayer and gave one of the trees a whack, and while Pieslayer was a mighty dessert sword, it didn't do much to the tree. Next Gerb took out his Switchblade and tried to cut a swath in the bark of the tree, but if the four we're going to have to depend on a pocket knife to do the job, it soon became apparent they'd die on their side of the water. Next they looked at the big blade on Lucky's back, to which he shook his head and snorted, "Don't even think about it. My blade is for slaying, not for chopping. The Alpha Dog who raised me always said, ‘Use the right tool for the job.’

Wondernine had an idea. "Listen, you guys take a rest here, I'm going to scout around for something better." After a half an hour, Wondernine was back carrying in his hand a long handled ax. "Where did that come from?" said the Gerb. "Well I zipped here and there in the forest until I came across an old abandoned Wood-Cutters Shed, and inside I found just the thing."
In no time the friends had a sturdy raft built of twelve straight logs and lashed together with thick vine from the forest. Three of them climbed aboard, while Wondernine happily rode his bike up onto the raft, and off they went.
Lucky Dog

The trip down the river turned out to be fraught with Peril. Behind the very first bend a series of rapids appeared, battering the makeshift craft to splinters. The group clung to whatever pieces would support them and tried to keep together, but to no avail. The rushing torrents pulled all of them, save our Hero, The Gerbil, towards the south bank of the river.
The Gerbil watched helplessly as his friends pulled themselves from the water and raced along the rivers edge, trying in vain to keep pace with the rapidly dwindling sight of their companion. The last thing The Gerbil heard was the long, sad howl that was their final farewell, before plunging down a high waterfall into the frothing mist far below.
The Gerbil next awoke lying in the tall grass along the riverside, not knowing how long he has been lying in the harsh sun. Hours? Days? He struggled up the embankment, where his eyes revealed a vast expanse of desert stretching in every direction. He decided that the best course was to follow the river, much narrower now than when he had first come across it, for it must surely lead to the sea. Resting in the day, he marched long into the night, the waterway narrowing into a stream, than a brook, and finally dwindling into a mere trickle. By the time the sun rose, there was no trace of the mighty river that ripped him from his friends, and The Gerbil was lost, alone, and at the mercy of the rising sun.
Still he pushed on, knowing that only heartache and misery lay behind him. He continued across the sands, showing endurance that no mere human could display, but in the end he was but Mortal, and he collapsed under the fierce heat of the never-ending sun. He had all but given up hope, willing to let the fates bestow what they will upon him.
Suddenly he heard the sound of thunder in the distance, life saving moisture is sure to fall from the sky and save him before it is too late. He feebly raised his head toward the sound, but the sky was undarkened by clouds, and the sun stared back at him, mockingly. But still the sound grew louder. Had he lost his senses? Had his mind finally betrayed him?
Then, over the crest of the dune exploded a band of Warriors! The hooves of their steeds shook the very Earth, and the sun gleamed off the polished scales of the knives strapped to their sides. Some had tools of a more subdued gray, but each one had the same silhouette, in varying sizes. The warriors themselves were of all shapes and sizes, seemingly gathered together from every country to race across the globe. How could such a band come to be, the Gerbil wondered as he sank into oblivion once again.
He awoke in the cool shade of a wide, high tent. The enticing aroma of a warm meal tickled his nose, and the sounds of revelry and song drifted in from the outside.
“Ah, at last you awake. We were starting to wonder if you would sleep away the night and miss the festival.”
The gerbil looked up into the wide face of a smiling man, “Here, you look like you could use some hot food.” A plate piled high with roasted meat and bread was sitting on a small table, and the man helped the Gerbil to his feet and into an unfolded chair. The gerbil muffled a grateful “Thank you” between mouthfuls of the delicious yet simple meal.
Much later, when he had at last had his fill, he told the man of how he came to be lost in such a hostile place. The man sat quietly, nodding occasionally, listening intently to his tale. “But you, and this band of Warriors. I have never seen the like in my life. Please tell me, what is your name? asks Gerbil”
“Me?” the man replied, “I am of no importance. But the others call me The Saint.”
“Are you their leader?” The Gerbil asked.
The Saint let out a long, hardy laugh. “In spirit, perhaps. But we all follow The Blade. From across the globe we have banded together, from all nations and tribes, from all walks of life and backgrounds. We are forged together as one. We are Los Sebenzanistas!” and with that the man pulled out one of the sparkling knives that the Gerbil had glimpsed so briefly in the desert, its unique pattern seeming to glow in the wan light of the evening, and opened the blade with a solid, satisfying pop.
The Gerbil took it into his hand, amazed at the beautiful simplicity of the design, the razor-honed edge, the smooth, sleek lines of both handle and blade. “Then it is true,” he said, “You have solved the Mystery of Steel!”
At this The Saint virtually exploded with laughter, “My friend, there is no solution to that puzzle. At least not the same one for every man.” He pulled out an array of the fantastic tools, “You see, even here, we have many different sizes, some polished and decorated like a fine piece of jewelry, some plain and clean like a patch of freshly fallen snow. And see how the knife itself has evolved, ever changing with subtle differences from year to year. You might well find the answer you seek with us, but only a fool would think that his was the only way. Each man must walk his own path.”
The Gerbil shook his head, struck by the truth of these words. “I think that I should get some more rest…” his voice drifted off as he began to feel the warm embrace of Morpheus once again.
“Rest well. In the morning we will take you to the nearest village, and you can decide for yourself the course you should take. Fear not, for you are amongst friends."
True to his word, the band escorted the Gerbil to a nearby town the next morning. “How can I thank you?” he asked The Saint.
“No thanks are necessary. We could hardly pass by a soul in need. But tell me, what have you decided?”
“I must try and find my friends. They should at least know that I am safe. I have to find out how they fared as well.”
The Saint nodded, “I would expect no less from one of our band. Fare well, Gerbil, and may you find the answers you seek.” With that, The Saint leapt upon his mount and spun around to take in the group of Warriors gathered near.
stjames
 
A quick note, Mr. Dorn; Benchmade was indeed making Bali-Songs in 1999.

I have a 1996 catalog showing many of them, and keep in mind;Benchmade was once Pacific Cutlery, and that was their bread and butter. I bought my first 'real' knife from Benchmade in 1995, and I remember the dealer showing me a Bali.

Just setting the record straight.

Good read on The Gerbil's saga. I never did read the whole thing. Thanks for sharing.
 
Thanks for the update. I was new onto the knife scene, back in '99, so was quite un-educated. This great forum is responsible for all my current knowledge, such as it is! I've already corrected 3 of my original statements in the first post!

Daniel
 
Here's a few more entries from 2 of the more prolific contributors, with Smoke taking the lead for keeping this story going.

As the dust settled, Gerbil rested at the edge of the village. As the day came to an end, darkness slowly came upon Gerbil. A small furry figure was watching his every footstep, ruby eyes fixated on his flesh like laser sights. Gerbil stopped and yelled out in the desert.
"Show yourself!"

A small band of prairie creatures emerged, mutant animals called "Jackalopes" standing on their hind legs. Their leader, a large bunny with fiery red eyes, walked closer, staring at Gerbil.
"You have the smell of the Sebenzanistas, the rogue militant branch of the Salvation Army. But you are not one of them..no. You have the markings of the One."
"I am known as Gerbil. Who are you?!" Gerbil asked.
"I am Bunnicula, master of all you see. I fear no snake and hide from no eagle. My people the Jackalopes prophesied of a visit from a Gerbil of strange odor. This Gerbil would face the leader of my people in the desert, in...Prairie Combat!"
"I have no desire to fight you. I seek only to solve the mystery of steel. The mystery plaguing all man. I seek..."
"You seek to conquer my land. Well, you shall not. We fight now!"
Bunnicula, legendary fighter, famous in children's books lead Gerbil into a stone circle farther out into the desert.
"Should you win, you will be one of us. Should you lose, well, then the vultures and jackals will feast on your entrails at dawn."
"Will we use weapons?" Gerbil asked.
"Weapons, we don't need no stinkin’...eh. No, fang to fang combat. First Blood. Maestro, if you please."
Senor Guadalupe Ramirez and the Cantos Pink Artes of Sat. Night Live fame played the theme from "The Mask of Zorro".
The lovely Francine Dee massaged Gerbil's back and whispered into his ear.
"If you win, you will have the Vaquero knife, forged with VG-10 steel and applied with a ceramic coating by the hands of Lorena."
"Lorena? The woman with large..."
"Yes. Large talonite nails, sharp as... as..."
Francine read from the Exposure script, "...treacherous, fierce steel shaped on natural stone by masters."
"It is time." Bunnicula said. Both walked to the center on hind legs and started the duel.
Each felt each other out, eyes staring, darting in the darkness as the torches burned.
Who would move first? The dust shook as...
Smoke

...as Bunnicula began his War Dance. First hopping on one furry foot and then the other, he began to circle our bewildered hero. Gerb suddenly remembered the auto in his tunic pocket, and with a speed unheard of in a man his size, he whipped out the knife, deployed the blade and reverse-cut Bunnicula across the ear.
"YOU BASTARD!" shouted Bunnicula, "I said no weapons!"
The lust of battle was dark in Gerb's eyes, however. He would give no quarter.
"There's more where that came from, you stinkin’ Hossenpfeffer!" he snarled.
Fear showed in the furry visage of Bunnicula. Seeing this, the crowd of Jackalopes converged on Bunnicula, biting and tearing at him with their razor sharp teeth and talons. Soon he was no more than a muddy, bloody, puddle of goo, slowly oozing into the desert sand.
"Ger-Bil, Ger-Bil, Ger-Bil" chanted the blood-crazy Jack's. Caught up in the moment, adrenaline pumping, Gerb began pumping his fist in the air to their chants, bloody switchblade still clenched tightly.
They led him back to their secret lair, a maze of underground tunnels which led to a great room lit by jars and jars of lightning bugs. There they began a great feast of Cajun chicken wings, washed down with cactus water. Unfortunately for our hero, the cactus water was rich in peyote...
ptpalpha

...which made Gerbil encounter a vision. The skies of Tu'uk'sahn became painted red, matching the adobe colored cliffs near him. He let out a war cry, "Aaaaaahheeeeeeyalalala!" before passing out.
He woke up next to the beautiful Francine who gave him water to drink.
"You did well, like the legendary Nimravus and Tungpan. Will you not stay with us?"
"Uh..." Gerbil moaned.
A shadow appeared over them.
"He did not do well, he is not yet worthy of the Jackalopes." said the stern raven haired La Dona.
"La Dona. My apologies mistress" Francine knelt.
"Who are you?" Gerbil asked.
"I am the one who taught a Sebenzanista the meaning of fear. I am the one who smited the medicine man for mocking my thighs. I am moderate in temper and a mistress of the blade. I am called La Dona."
"Have you come to kill me?" Gerbil asked.
"No, I come to see your puny blade." La Dona grasped the tiny knife beside Gerbil and looked at the blade closely.
"This is adequate but not of the desert. Is it, Stamp?" Francine held up Gerbil’s knife as a man emerged from the side of a cliff and took it from La Dona's hand.
Silently, Stamp took the Gerbil's knife and violently struck the side of the cliff. The sharp sound pierced the desert as Stamp folded the blade closed and placed it back in Gerbil's hand.
"Your knife is juvenile. The stuff of dreams. A..."
"What do you mean? How dare you!" Gerbil said.
"How dare you Gerbil! One does not question Stamp, he who hath broken blades forged fresh from the forge of Hephaestus." La Dona barked.
"Leave us." Stamp ordered and Francine walked away.
"Do you truly understand the mystery and riddle of Steel, Gerbil? Of steel that is not steel?" La Dona asked.
"Do you understand that fine sand, glass can cut? Do you understand the fury of the fire and the cold weather? Of how what may fell a tree, may shave a hair?" Stamp added.
"No." Gerbil answered.
"You will. What shall we do with him?" La Dona asked Stamp.
"We shall see. Come Gerbil, arise and walk with us."
Gerbil stood alongside La Dona and Stamp as they journeyed past the Jackalope kingdom. As the hot sun warmed the desert, the wind brushed a clear path where the three stopped. Gerbil stood in the center and noticed that he was suddenly alone.
"You look tired" A voice said from behind him.
A medicine man shone a small Photon light into Gerbil's eyes. The two walked and sat at the base of the butte, drinking Welch's grape juice. Gerbil told of his incredible journey and the people he'd met as the medicine man lead him into a cave, the glow of a tritium watch and a supercharged Maglite leading their way to a secret cavern.
"Ah, La Dona. Yeah, I talked about the cellulite on her thighs. She got mad and went medieval on my buttocks." the Medicine Man said as Gerbil looked upon the vast collection of knives on the wall.
"Are you a Sebenezanista?" he asked.
"I was. I'm a member of many groups. Don't let anybody fool you, a knife needs a good sheath. Three men in this world make good sheaths, two use kydex, which fears no cold or heat."
"Who are they? Do they know Lorena?"
"No but they have heard of her. One is a healer of the back, a Chiro. One uses only leather, he is called Graley. The last is a man who's name sounds like the wind."
"The wind?"
"Actually a whisper. JSP, JSP. If you call out his name in the wind, you may hear him."
"Have you seen JSP?" Gerbil asked.
"No, but I have seen his work. Beware the madman of Florida, Gerbil."
"You mean...?"
"Yes, the Turber. The man who cuts rope into thousands of threads and cackles like a turkey."
The sound of a turkey call echoed through the cave, startling Gerbil who ran out of the cave and back into the desert when he encountered...
Smoke
 
Great fun! Geez,I remember this like it was yesterday. i contributed the Pie-Slayer/Sarah lee pie portion. Thanks for re-posting DD.
 
Here's the next snippet from the saga:

...two men. Mirror images of each other. Twins. Both clad in strange assortments of denim, leather, and light nylon windshells. They carried a strange assortment of blades upon their persons, and stood silently at first. The Gerbil was confused. Did La Dona strike him so hard to cause him to see double? And how could he dare have mentioned cellulite on such a specimen as La Dona anyway? He snapped from his mental diversion as one of the men approached.
“You must be the one they call Gerbil,” one stated, “we have heard of you, and have also heard that your friends were looking for you.”
“Who are you, and how do you know my friends?” asked the Gerbil. “And hey, did anybody ever tell you guys you look alike?”
The first man reached for a canteen, “we are known as the Evil Twins, but we mean you no harm. We are evil only to those who are truly evil in their own hearts, enemies of the good and law abiding. Them, and certain liberal politicians. I am Ron, and this is Don. We were separated many years ago as children. I was raised in the Dozier mountains, famed for the blades produced by the man the mountains were named after, whose ringing hammer could be heard throughout the foothills. My brother lived until recently in the Busse Valley, raised by members of the Sebenzanista clan. We met again several years back during a pub brawl in a small town called Passata, as we both beat feet out the back door before authorities arrived. We have traveled since to regain our brotherhood. News of your quest travels fast among the Sebenzanistas, Gerbil, but we cannot help but for offering our camp for tonight.“ He held out the canteen to the Gerbil, and said, “You look thirsty as well, Gerbil, here, drink, come with us to our camp, and tell us how you came to be separated from your friends.”

“You have seen my friends? Where?” asked the Gerbil, as he walked along, drinking greedily, still warily wondering about these two men, one of whom remained silent. He recounted his story to the two men as they wandered along over several small hills and ridges until they reached a pair of small tents, some assorted gear, and two titanium framework like steeds with strange knobby wheels. The first man, Ron, nodded appreciably during Gerbil’s tale, coaxing more information out of him at times.
He was happy to hear that Ron had heard of both the Lucky Dog and the Pieslayer. As he talked on, the second one, Don, looked up as he mentioned the meeting of Maklong, smirked, and patted a rather large black blade on his side. Don’s only other reaction was when the Gerbil mentioned the Saint. “A better man cannot be found,” he simply said, as he began a ritual of gathering and lighting a fire for their evening meal.
Don, the quiet one, reached into a small satchel and pulled out several small fur bundles, and proceeded to prepare them, and suddenly, almost as if on cue, both twins withdrew large blades and froze, startling the Gerbil. The twins’ eyes darted along the edge of the firelight, seeking, searching. Don slowly reached into a vest pocket and withdrew a small, cylindrical black object, held it up, and produced a brilliant blaze of light, reaching far past the fringe of the firelight, illuminating a pair of small, green eyes. The eyes froze for a moment, then darted back off into the dark. “Damn sand smeeches,” muttered Don, as both brothers relaxed.
The Gerbil recovered his calm, and asked, “What manner of light is that, and such large knives, what are those?” Don approached, squatted down next to the Gerbil, and handed the blade over for Gerbil’s inspection. “The light is a Surefire, a portion of the sun you can carry in your pocket. The blade is a Steel Heart, made of the magical INFI steel, and produced in the Busse Valley by Jerry, the meanest steel slamming sucker in the region. This small blade is made in lands far west of here, by the Trace of Rinaldi. During your meeting with the Sebenzanistas, you should have become familiar with this” he stated as he flicked a speckled blade out from a dull grey, slab.
“Yes, I have seen one of those, shown to me by the Saint of the Sebenzanistas, “ said the Gerbil, “but the others I haven’t seen before, though I have heard tales of the magic of INFI steel in my travels.”
Ron then came over. “This knife, a constant companion, is made by Bob, ruler of the Dozier mountains. This,“ he said, as he drew a large, nearly two foot long blade from a scabbard at his waist, “is made in the distant lands of Enfield, many generations ago, and handed down to me by our grandfather.”
The Gerbil admired the blades for a while as the brothers prepared the meal, daring not ask what kind of meat was sizzling over the fire. They added grains from several pouches to a small pot and water, let them simmer over a small type of single stove connected to a cannister, that the Gerbil correctly assumed was a fuel source. While the meal cooked, the brothers set out several sand smeech traps, pulled bedrolls from small packs, and decided that fresher, open air would prove more enjoyable than a stifling tent. They ate mostly in quiet, the Gerbil wondering if this meat was smeech, as he’s never had it before, but since it didn’t give him gas it didn’t really matter. Gerbil had grown weary from his travels and bedded down.
Later, while the twin known as Ron was already sleeping, Don sat in his bedroll, leaning against a boulder, eyeing the darkness for more smeeches. The Gerbil drifted off to the low crackle of the fire, his mind buzzing with the people he’d met and the adventures he had, the lands that he’d seen.

The next morning, he awoke in a bleary state. Sleeping on the ground did his back little good, but the camp was still a welcome comfort. His nose sniffed the aroma of strong coffee, and his eyes blinked quickly into full awareness.

“Coffee?” he murmured? “Can’t start the day without a cup,” said Ron, handing over a small steel cup of steaming brew. Gerbil flinched as the first jolt of caffeine hit his system, then relaxed into the glow. While Ron and the Gerbil enjoyed their morning and the warming air, Don packed up the camp. As they were finished, the twins approached the Gerbil.
“Gerbil, “ Ron said, “we must head further west for a while, but since we cannot accommodate you with transportation, we must part. We enjoyed your company, and hope to travel with you again someday.”
“Here,” said Don, “is a spare compass. Here is also a spare section of map. We are familiar with this area, so we are never lost here, but they will help you. Northeast of here, is the Plains of Spyderco, where the Patriarch Glesser is holding the Calypso Festival. Your friends will most likely be there, it is a popular festival, and you can most likely meet up with them there. We hope to return back and reach Spyderco before the festival ends ourselves.” With a wink, he added, “I hear there will be Amazonian Nymphettes at the festival who are attracted to men such as yourself. Until then Gerbil, be safe and travel well.”
“Thank you both, Evil Twins, if I see the Saint of the Sebenzanistas, I will tell him of your generosity. By the way, was that smeech we had last night?”
“If it didn’t give you gas, then you don’t want to know,” said Ron, as the brothers shouldered their packs and mounted their steeds. “So long, Gerbil.” The brothers put their feet on the ends of some strange crank shaped devices, turned them around, and sped away on their knobby wheels.
The Gerbil belched, and lingered over the taste of the coffee from the morning. He looked at the map, examined the pretty squiggly lines, studied the compass and its bobbing needle, shrugged, stuffed them both in his pocket, and simply headed the vague, general direction that Don had indicated. He walked along, wondering how many words he could make from the letters on the compass. “Let’s see,” he muttered, “news, snew, swen, wens”
DonL (Don Le Hue)
 
This is wonderful! It must have been written before I joined in December 2000. Love reading about the Gerbil.

Is there more to this Saga of the Terrible Ironic Horde?
 
Okay, I'm weird, and recently refound this on my computer. Thought I'd add more to the story and continue this. I'll add a few more, but just so you know, this is just short of half of the whole thing. It's getting weirder in some parts, but still entertaining.

"Whoa!" Gerbil said as a blond man ran past him. Gerbil continued his trek to the valley of Spyderco thinking of the jackalopes and Francine, La Dona and Stamp. He sat down near a small cat, sunning itself on a tree stump.
"Hey Kitty." Gerbil said reading the collar around the cat's neck.
"Row!" the cat screeched.
"Sundey! Ah, qu'est que ce?" A longhaired man asked.
"Hello, my name is...OW!" Gerbil screamed as the cat cut him with a small knife.
"Alors, Sundey! Pardonnez moi, je m'appelle.. Cough. I am Perrin, a knifemaker. Pardon my cat Sundey, she is hungry. We have been looking for my friend Nemo. Have you seen him?"
"No, the only person I've seen is you and some blond guy who ran past me like a train. I am Gerbil, I seek the answer to the Riddle of Steel."
"Ah the Riddle. Do you seek Lorena as well?"
"Yes, have you seen her?"
"No, follow me my friend. Our encampment is this way."
As the day progressed, the two men talked of steel and Lorena. The next day Gerbil and Perrin walked through the woods in search of Nemo.

"Perrin, what happened to Lorena? Why did she turn mad?"
"It was the lie of Cold Steel. The serrated knives they will not sharpen. Lorena was crushed and she went mad, roaming the forest and attacking villagers."
Perrin stopped in his tracks as he lost sight of Sundey. Gerbil and Perrin came upon a gruesome sight. Men's clothing caught on a bush which Gerbil and Perrin recognize.
"No! Nemo!!!!" Perrin screamed as Gerbil noticed a strange wood statue hanging above the bush.
"The mark of Lorena, she got him." Gerbil said as Sundey jumped into Perrin's backpack.
Perrin stood up, snapping a loud branch. Perrin started to run as Gerbil screamed "What is that?! Perrin, what is THAT?!"
The two ran, darting through the woods, coming closer, till out of the water a blond man carrying a Mossberg shotgun arose. He shot at the strange creature, pellets driving into its limbs.
Perrin and Gerbil ducked and ran to the side, hiding behind the trees and pulling out their Glocks 21 and 19 respectively. Each fired into the heart of the running creature, but to no avail. The creature came closer as both men ducked again and the blond man fired. Perrin reached into his backpack and pulled out his trusty shovel.
Gerbil looked on as the creature ran closer and Perrin beheaded it with his shovel. The wooden creature soon collapsed into the ground.
"Nemo! What are you doing?! We thought Lorena had gotten you at the house."
"She almost did. After I set fire to the house, she ran after me. I ran all day and set up a trap."
"Nemo, Perrin. Was that Lorena?" Gerbil asked.
"Possibly. Luckily we were prepared. Or else we would be three dead idiots in the woods."
Gerbil and the pair continued past the river and to the local village of Sirupati Ang Khola. A small locale outside the Golden Mountain of Spyderco Valley. Where they found...
Smoke

...instant death. Unbeknownst to the puzzled Gerbil, contemplating confusedly his odd companion, a bald mustachioed figured lay prone on the cliffs above them peering at him through the crosshairs of a high powered rifle.
"For the good of my country, this man will never become president. I just wish I could have done this for Nixon, who should still be ruling" the figure muttered, and pulled the trigger, smiling as blood and grey matter splattered on the sand.
For Gerbil, the world suddenly tilted on its axis so hard he fell down. Standing slowly, the first thing he noticed was the heat, and as he brushed himself off, the fact that his shoes appeared to be on fire. Dancing in order to put the fire out, he frantically searched around for something, anything, with which to extinguish the flames toasting his feet. But all he could see was the massive cavern in which he suddenly stood, with stalagmites and stalactites rending the air like livid teeth, coated by an incessant rain of burning brimstone.
"Where the hell am I?" Gerbil screamed, feeling the flesh on his toes start to melt from the intense heat. Behind him a deep smoky voice replied "Why, dear Gerbil, that's exactly where you are."

Startled, Gerbil whipped around to face a small figure behind him, leaning casually on a pitchfork, one hooved foot crossed in front of the other, grinning through a twisted goatee, fingering one of his two sharply pointed ebony horns.
"Wh wh wh who are y y y you?" Gerbil stammered, staring at the petite animalistic figure in front of him. "Oh, I don't like to give out my name. I usually make the people I meet guess. But I'll give you a hint." Suddenly, the petite figure morphed into a stern woman in a business suit.
"You're Sarah Brady?" Gerbil asked, incredulously. "No." The figure laughed, "let me give you another hint" as he morphed into the form of Janet Reno. "Still don't get it?" The odd creature chuckled. "How about this?" he asked as he morphed suddenly to the forms of Schumer, Gore, then Feinstein in rapid succession. Gerbil just stood there with his mouth open, uncomprehending. "Okay" the figure stated, sounding miffed, "one last hint". Slowly for dramatic effect, he morphed into the form of Martha Stewart.
Suddenly, the light dawned on Gerbil's face.
"You're the son of all evil!" Gerbil cried "Nooooooooooooo! What have I done to deserve this hellish fate?" With one eyebrow cocked, The Son of All Evil replied "This is the reason" as he held up a picture of Lorena Bobbitsky. Collapsing onto the white hot ground from the shock, he lay there dazed, his skin frying, watching the Son of All Evil disappear into a vortex of flame, his wicked laughter echoing through the chamber, excoriating the psyche with its resonance.
After a while, the smell of his own burning flesh nauseated him, so Gerbil sat up and found a large figure looming over him, a sad, sardonic smile on his face.
"Who are you?" Gerbil managed weakly, looking up at the large heavy set figure above him.
"Don't worry" the figure replied, "I'm a friend, and I'm here to help. There's been a terrible mistake. We need to get you out of here." The large man reached down with his massive paw, and helped Gerbil to his feet. "We need to get going. The longer you're here, the less chance we have of getting you out of here."
Without further statement or explanation, the man lumbered off, obviously expecting Gerbil to follow. Without anything better to do, he did. He followed the hulking figure in front of him who was wearing a faded black jacket and wide brimmed black hat, looking like a booted silverback gorilla. Off in the distance, he could see writhing and screaming souls, frantically trying to douse the flames that consumed them, but eternally to no avail.
"Why are these people burning?" Gerbil asked his impromptu guide. "Slowly turning, but still walking,” his guide replied slowly, his voice echoing with sadness, "These are those who, in life, had no fire. They believed in nothing, fought for nothing, they just went with the flow in life. Now they have all the fire they can handle."
"Is this whole place like this?" Gerbil asked, stunned at the unending torture surrounding him. "No my friend" his guide replied, his voice deep and echoing with the screams of the agonized. "This is but one level of nine. We will travel through each before we can finally get you out of here."
They traveled through the fires for what seemed to be an eternity, eventually coming to a large boulder against the side of the cavern as large as eternity itself. Bending over, his guide lifted the stone, groaning with the strain, his hands burning with the contact of the red hot matter. His efforts revealed an opening leading downward, away from the heat and agony. "Come" his guide said, motioning for Gerbil to follow.

They came to what seemed to be a large cheap motel, with screams of rage, pain, and frustration coming from within. As they walked past, Gerbil shuddered at what he saw in the windows. Men and women eternally forming relationships, cheating on one another, and stabbing one another when they found out. Still walking, his guide offered, "This is the fate for those who cheat on their significant others. An eternity of not knowing who to trust, of never knowing faithfulness, of forever having your heart broken."
Far into the darkness they continued, until off in the distance appeared an island of light, a small restaurant with the shocking reports of gunfire and the screams of the dying emanating from within. "I hope you're not hungry" his guide stated as they walked past "this is not a restaurant where you would want to eat." Gerbil briefly peered inward and saw two crazed gunmen shooting down unarmed people sitting at the tables, with the screams of loved ones echoing against the walls. Before Gerbil could ask, his guide replied "This is the fate destined for those who disarm the honorable. Who, through legislation or other means prevented those capable of defending their innocent loved ones from doing so. They will now spend an eternity watching their loved ones gunned down, as they cursed others to do in life."
They continued on, coming to a field of souls in twisted positions, frozen with agonized faces, liars in life who paralyzed others with their untruths, now frozen themselves. Behind the field stood a large city, floating in the air, filled with people desperately trying to walk despite the tons of gold strapped to their backs, crushing them. The curse of those who valued nothing but material goods, too distrusting to put down any of their precious wealth.
Walking on, they passed the hell of those who abuse children, cursed to be eternally abused themselves, by much larger, much more powerful demons. They walked through the middle of the hell of those who raped others in life, now suffering an unspeakable fate at the hands of the darkest of pit fiends.
Shuddering from the horrible sights he had witnessed, Gerbil was unprepared when they came upon a slaughterhouse. Filled with people repeatedly murdered in the same fashion they had murdered others. After every demise, they would reanimate, only to find themselves repeating their fate. Nearly collapsing at the shock of the Gruesome mayhem in front of him, his guide reached out and half lifted him forward, continuing onward. Eventually they came to a ring of frozen sharp mountain peaks, the sharp razor wind screaming with ferocity. Holding their hands in front of them, the odd pair pressed forward, vainly protecting themselves from the cutting wind.
Huge figures lay in the snow and ice, unmoving. Most of them looked familiar. Hitler, Lenin, Clinton, their frozen eyes followed the pair as they fought through the frost, silently begging for release. The souls of those who caused massive corruption and pain, eternally cursed to lay freezing, forever conscious of their agony, the souls of those destroyed acting as the terrible vindictive wind, forever lashing their former tormentors.
Finally they came to a small crack at the base of the mountain, at which the guide started to frantically dig, his hands blackened by the frostbite inflicted by the terrible screaming wind. Leaving spatters of his blood in the snow, the guide finally created an opening large enough for Gerbil to fit through. Pushing him inwards, his guide yelled over the howling wind "Go now! Run!" Gerbil was startled "Come with me!" he cried, to which his guide replied, forcing him into the gap "I've got my own penance to pay, now GO!"
Shambling into the cavern, Gerbil slowly began to feel warm, with a light in the distance beckoning him. A familiar voice stopped him cold. "Where do you think you're going?" The Son of All Evil asked, appearing in a puff of flame in front of him. "Once I have your soul, I have it forever."

Gerbil, his rage getting the better of him, reached inside his pocket and withdrew his mighty Micra. "I've had it with you! Go back to where you belong!" He screamed, lunging at the perpetuator of his agony, stabbing him squarely between the horns, creating a wound at least 1/16 of an inch deep. "Noooooooo!" Evil screamed, disappearing in a bright flash of white hot flame.
Shocked, singed, burned, and frozen, Gerbil stumbled into the light.
Waxes Eloquent, Leader of the Terrible Ironic Horde and Sarcastic Brain Spewer
 
Continued:


The dirt under his cheek was cool on his burned skin, but he winced at the gritty sting of it against what was probably going to be a truly awesome bruise. After a bit of concentration, he could feel his hands...a few minutes' more effort produced wiggling toes and an accurate accounting of body parts. Now, he said to himself, now for the really hard part: gasping at the agony of muscles who'd been to Hell and back, himself near to shrieking at the messages from limbs that begged him to lie still, still, peacefully still forever, Gerbil got one hand to obey him...and then managed to roll over onto his back.
He slowly coaxed the hand up, up, up, so that it would shade him from the blinding light...and nearly lost his Toll Houses when he realized there was someone standing over him. Gerbil squinted...and saw that the brightness he'd seen earlier was a torch, burning with a sweetish clean smoke, being held aloft by a huge, towering...oh, no...wait. That huge towering part was just the person's shadow, he realized with relief. ("Phew! No more devils for THIS gerbil," he hoped.)
As the pounding in his head subsided a bit, his vision cleared, and he saw that the figure was not huge, not really towering, but... averaged sized, actually. Rather...short. Kinda non tall. "Little, for a dude," he thought to himself, and then was shocked to hear the person laugh: a melodious river of sound, like a creek over rocks on a crisp mountain morning. "This ain't a dude," he chided himself, "it's a woman!"
And indeed it was. Gerbil could see that this woman was unlike any he'd met before, for she carried herself with strength, and confidence, and much laughter in her warm eyes. (Afterwards, at journey's end, when his friends begged to know if she was beautiful, Gerbil would only say, "Her wise conversation was beautiful, her laughter pretty to hear, and her warm heart lovely to behold." His friends thought he was nuts, because he couldn't even say if she had a nice figure or not, but Gerbil would just get this glowing smile on his face, and they'd go off to have another beer.)
"Who are you?" Gerbil sputtered, his lips swollen and cracked.
"I have many names," she answered in a clear, rich voice. "People here call me the Kestrel, for they say I am clear of sight and can see far into the paths ahead."
"You mean you're, like, a trailguide or something?" Gerbil asked, confused.
"Trails of the heart, yes; pathways of the world sometimes too. It depends on what is needed; my sight is not for my own benefit, but a gift to serve those whom I meet, who may be lost, or hindered in their journeys in some way." She looked down at him, noting his burned clothing, the patches of skin which would be blistering soon, and the bruises and cuts in need of salve. Then she stared up at the rock face behind him, biting her lower lip, thinking a bit. Gerbil realized then that she knew where he had been, and wondered if she knew the brave Warrior who had helped him find his way out of Hades past all those....he shuddered, and started to shake uncontrollably.

Her gaze instantly came back to him. "You're hurt," she said, "but you can't walk far..." From her belt, she drew forth a small object, white, bone like, and blew into it, producing a series of bird noises, which were greeted by similar songs a few moments later. "They're just outside this cave," she said, "so don't move around much till they get here."
"They? But I'm fine, really. Some water's all I need, maybe some burn-spray..." Gerbil trailed off as he realized she was shaking her head at him. "You've been There," she gestured with her chin towards the now solid wall through which he had just fallen, "and you've seen things..." she broke off as she saw Gerbil go pale at the memories. She went on, more gently: "Your wounds are more than bruises and burns, and the mending needed is more than burn-spray and bandages."
At this moment, Gerbil heard light feet enter the cave, and turned to see a half dozen women, dressed similarly to the Kestrel, in buckskin leggings and tunics. He also noticed something he had not seen before: the Kestrel, like all the others, carried a blade at her side, sheathed in leather, whose fringe swept her leg with each movement. As the women began to lift him onto a sort of wheeled cart, covered in soft fabrics, he blurted out in amazement: "Who ARE you guys women, whatever? Where are you taking me?"
The Kestrel, amused, answered: "We are the Women of the Blade, of course. We are warriors, loyal to the trinity of Courage, Wisdom, and Truth. We serve the Blade, and the Blade serves us. Our blades have a name, one name for all: Respect. With this tool, we cut through lies and deceit, stupidity and ignorance, violence and abuse, loneliness and pain, emptiness and despair. We are warriors of healing, and our weapon is Respect.
"We stand ready to assist those who come through the gates you yourself have so recently passed through. When people come to us, they have seen what their soul cannot bear, they have survived what they did not think could be survived. We offer them our Blades in the service of their healing, and once they are strong enough, they take a Blade of their own with them as they return to their own journeys, their own stories. Our place here is not an end in itself, but a rest station along the way, a place to Respect and learn from the past so that we may be more Respectful and better armed for the future."
Gerbil did not know quite what to make of this strange speech, but he knew she was right: he needed rest, and he wasn't sure he was looking forward to going to sleep tonight, only to face nightmares of what lay beyond that wall...
For weeks, he lived amongst the Warriors of Respect. They taught him how to wield their Weapons, how to hone and sharpen them, when to draw Respect forth from its sheath, and when to hold it quietly unto himself. He became proficient at the different types of Blades they lent him, and carefully practiced all the Arts they showed him.
One day, he went to the Kestrel, and told her that he was ready to leave the Warriors, and return to the search for his companions. She nodded. "Last night, I knew that it was so, and I have seen your way ahead...it will not be an easy way, and you will have need of protection and help along the way." She gestured towards the fine blade he had lately been using for practice. "Take that with you, as our gift, as a remembrance of what you learned here, so that you may be prepared for what lies ahead." She paused, then said, "And if you should ever have need of us, Gerbil, use this," and she handed him her small bone flute. "We'll hear you, no matter where you are, and come to you."

Bowing to her and her companions, grateful for all they had shared with him, he turned and walked towards the open road. Behind him, as the Warriors drew their Blades to salute him, he heard the sound of river laughter on the wind, and the sound of small bone flutes piping in joyous harmonies. Girded with Respect, he was Whole again.
silverwing of the Horde, the Kestrel She Who Sees The Way Through, Armed with The Blade Named Respect

"Is he worthy now Mistress?" Francine asked.
"Yes my dear, worthy to walk the land. You have feelings for this Gerbil, yes?" La Dona said as they watched Gerbil overhead from a cliff.
"Yes mistress." Francine bowed her head watching the warrior called Gerbil make his way on the path of Knirvana.
"You are worried what will befall Gerbil. I see it in your eyes. If he is truly the One he will come back for you bearing a blade made for a queen. Perhaps the La Griffe from the son of Emer? But we shall see won't we?" La Dona smiled.
Gerbil heard the familiar sound of the round riding objects. A dark helmeted rider approached him from behind. The march of a desert rider, an Outsider of many lands.
Gerbil drew his blade as the rider got off his steed and took off his helmet.
"I am Gerbil. Who are you?"
"I am the sound of fire through the desert, the heat from the asphalt under your feet. I'm called the Outsider and ask that you place your blade away and listen."
"Silverwing told me of a man with garments of kydex. A dark rider of Klingon lineage and a curse to the corrupt. I was told to walk this path to reach the Golden Mountain of Colorado.
"Is the journey far?"
"No." The Outsider waved his hand upon the road, a short stone path was revealed, leading to the Golden Mountain of Colorado.
Gerbil walked behind the Outsider as villagers danced and drank at the festival. He smiled and effortlessly walked up to the castle upon a Golden mountain. Gerbil walked in awe as they entered the castle hallway, where a magnificent banquet lay before them.
The crowd quickly noticed them as they approached the throne. Gerbil and the Outsider stopped as others approached them. Glesser, Patriarch of the Spyderco and the Reeves, founders of Los Sebenzanistas.
"Outsider, you are well. Who is this man beside you? A fellow tribesman?" Glesser asked.
"He is Gerbil. One who seeks the answer to the Riddle of Steel and of Lorena."
"Ah. Gerbil you have journeyed long. You bear the mark of the Jackalope people. Do you believe you know of steel?" Anne Reeve asked.
"Yes, I think so." Gerbil answered.
"Then you have come to the right place. Come my friend, listen to my story and of Los Sebenzanistas." Chris Reeve lead with his walking stick.
Gerbil drank a goblet of wine as Chris Reeve told of his life as an Umfaan who yearned to be a Mountaineer and how this Project required Sebenza. He told of the intricacies of the folding steel handle, that which connects the user to the blade.
"Mistress, what are they talking about?" Francine asked quietly. With a raised eye, La Dona sipped from her goblet.
"Child, it is of the folding steel. Then again knowing Chris, he's probably telling of how he met Anne, his "Project", his equal and Shadow. She who is beautiful as Sable. He is a tool maker, an Ubejane, an Aviator, and a weaver of stories."

"Yes Mistress" Francine looked down, her red lips matching the roses in her hair.
"Your impatience gives you away Francine." Glesser said.
"Why must he go through more trials Patriarch? Does he not know all? Must he fight The Turber?" she asked.
"The journey is his dear child. He may stop anytime but he seeks the knowledge. He seeks more." Glesser added.
"You are jealous. Aren't you Francine? Jealous of Silverwing and her strength and the respect she is given. You fear Gerbil has eyes only for her." La Dona smiled.
"Ah." Glesser said.
Francine stared at Gerbil from across the way, waiting patiently as...
Smoke
 
...the one known only as the Gerbil, stood and said, "I have learned much this evening, and I have much to think upon. But I recognize that the secret of the steel is not something to be learned in a single night. On the morrow, I must take my leave of you. I realize my journey is still just beginning, and my knowledge is small."
At this, one who was seated near the fire stood, "I also shall be departing with the morning sun, and would be greatly honored to accompany you for the briefest part of your travels."
The Gerbil smiled and said,"I would know the name of one who wishes to be a companion."
"I am Knight Dave. Also called KKimo. I am a god's chosen warrior. My quest is to discover which god."
At dawn the two set off, neither quite sure of the direction. "ewns...nope... wens...uh uh...nesw...hmmm... we'll get there eventually."
After a few days journey, they came to a bridge, spanning a deep chasm. An ancient man stood at the bridge, and as the two approached he held up his hand, saying, "Only those worthy may pass this way. To prove thy worth, thou must answer three questions..."
"What's your favorite color?"
"Blue." said KKimo, who was first in line.
"What's your favorite knife?"
"Delica." said KKimo
"In 500 words or less, what are the political ramifications of having a non humanoid mammal acting as both head of state, and head of government?"
"Uhhh...."
"Come on now, you haven't all day."
"Uhh...umm..."
"OK, you have till the count of three. one..two...three. Time’s up."
At that the old man changed, becoming a fierce warrior, armed with a huge forward curved blade.
"What manner of blade is that?" asked KKimo
"That is the giant Kukri, feared by all." answered Gerbil.
The two of them set upon the Guardian of the bridge, overcoming him after a long and furious battle, the details of which are far too boring to be related here.

"I guess there are other ways of proving ones worth, than answering some inane questions." scoffed Gerbil. After traversing the bridge, the duo came to a crossroads.
"I am traveling this way." said KKimo, indicating the path to the left.
"My journey takes me forward along this path, to the," consulting his compass, "nesw... I think..."
The two parted company, each thinking..."there's something a little odd about that fellow."
And The One known as the Gerbil continued on...
Khimo

"Where are you going my servant?" La Dona asked back at the castle.
"May I gather berries near the forest below? The festival looks fun Mistress." Francine said.
"You seek Gerbil yet again. Very well, we shall all go." La Dona said, putting down her goblet.
La Dona and Francine walked down the Knirvana path and borrowed the Outsider's metallic steed, the Harley DavidNorton Commando.
"Gerbil." a voice echoed.
Silently, Gerbil spun around, his blade at the throat of a stranger.
"La Dona! And Francine? Have you been following me? Why?!" Gerbil asked.
"Because of the Tur..!" Francine was silenced before she could finish.
"Gerbil, you originally sought the VG-10 Vaquero blade of Lorena. She who went mad after buying and sharpening a Voyaging knife of cold serrated steel. Before she went mad she gave the blade to a being of infinite power. This being possessed so many knives that they had to be contained in a large cave called The Vault." La Dona said circling around Gerbil.
"This being went mad after his desired steel of ATS 34 was questioned and his Maklong knife bore a cursed cracked notch. He is the Turber, his turkey battle cry is well known." Stamp said, emerging from the side of a cliff.
"Was the VG-10 Vaquero a myth?" Gerbil asked.
"No, the Turber has it. The prophecy said that the One to lead the jackalopes would claim it and another knife to give to his queen." La Dona added.
"So I must fight the Turber. I am ready." Gerbil said looking at his blade.
"You are not." La Dona sternly said, drawing the Sliver from its sheath.
"But you will be." Francine whispered under her breath.
"More training, eh? I'm up to it." Gerbil said as La Dona drew a circle in the ground.
"Let's see what you've learned." La Dona darted toward Gerbil unleashing the fury of her blade. Gerbil evaded her attack and...laughed. La Dona laughed with him.
"My apologies Gerbil. You are beyond this, Silverwing has trained you well. Perhaps you did not partake too much liquor in the Calypso festival." La Dona smiled, looking at Francine who placed a large black case on the ground.
"Choose, Gerbil. Choose as many knives as you wish. The Turber's Vault has many a blade." Stamp said as Gerbil walked over to the mobile armory.
"What do you think I should choose?" Gerbil knelt asking the brown haired handmaiden of La Dona.
"A sharp one." whispered Francine as she walked away from the circle.

"It does not matter Gerbil. A master of the Trail, Livesay's Woo, the Hobbits of Taylor, ah perhaps the Heart of Steel? Dare I say, the Mistress of Battle?" Stamp laughed as La Dona stared through him.
La Dona held out a length of rope as Gerbil returned with many blades.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Cut it." La Dona said as Gerbil drew a blade.
The steel cut through the air and missed the rope. La Dona skillfully whipped the rope and smacked Gerbil on the head.
"Aargh!" Gerbil screamed.
"Lesson one. Never challenge the Turber to the rope test." La Dona smacked Gerbil's arm.
“Lesson two. Never be caught unawares. Be always ready." Gerbil dropped his blade on the ground as La Dona cracked the air behind his ear.
"Lesson three and four. Will you please think about using a lanyard? Work with me here Gerbil. Throw me a bone here, people." La Dona rolled her eyes as Stamp was fed grapes by Francine.
Gerbil stood up, his eyes glowing red for a moment.
"The fire in his eyes burns bright." the voice said behind a helmet.
"Outsider, you have come to take your steed?" Stamp asked.
"No Stamp. I have asked to meet this Gerbil."
"Bald1!" La Dona gasped as the twin brother of Glesser complete with matching white robe walked into the circle.
"Gerbil, I am Bald1. Master of the Moran and la Militaire. I am here to help you defeat the Turber and bear gifts for your journey. Please accept this small token, young warrior."
Bald1 handed a small mirror like blade, a uniquely ground piece accompanied by two sheaths as only two sheaths can hold its fury.
"This blade will help you defeat the virus that infects Turber and drove Lorena mad. You need not slay Turber but drive out the dreaded Knife Bug." Bald1 added.
"But how will this small blade do such a thing?" Gerbil asked.
"When the time is right, you will know. For you see, he knows you are here and is coming." Outsider added.
"I haven't trained enough!" Gerbil yelled.
"You will be fine, for skill can only take you so far." La Dona said. Francine took Gerbil's arm as she handed him his battle blades, the Mistress of Battle, the Heart of Steel, the Moran, and the Delicate Spyder.
"But you will never see that skill used, Gerbil." A dark voice said, drawing the attention of the six. A light armored figure walked into the circle, kissed by the heat of Florida. The master of the rope cut, the breaker of knife tips, the Turber.
"It is said I must defeat you Gerbil. That you seek the VG Vaquero of Lorena and the answer to the Riddle of Steel." Turber said drawing a Busse #9 from its sheath.
The Turber raised his hand and a servant carried in the box bearing the VG2.
"I will have that blade Turber. I will have just one more blade." Gerbil said drawing the Mistress of Battle.
The tribe of Silverwing stepped into the background, chanting and clapping as the two combatants squared off. Bald1 and Glesser, observed as Francine refilled the goblet of La Dona.
The two darted in and out, chopping, cutting, and thrusting at each other.

"Let's take this up a notch." The Turber growled as he withdrew a Makklung blade with his other hand. The chanting continued, growing quicker as Turber doubled his attacks. Gerbil deflected the blows attempting to defeat the maelstrom of steel.
"Ha!" Gerbil yelled as he drew out the Heart of Steel. The air smelled of fire and sparks as each blade cut into the flesh of its target. Gerbil sustained a cut on his shoulder and lashed out slashing thru the Turber's helmet. Gerbil leapt back and laughed at his foe.
"What's so funny?" The Turber asked as blood dripped on the sand.
Gerbil smiled and tossed the Steel Heart beside him. He withdrew the Moran in front of the Turber's eyes.
"It's just one more knife right?" Gerbil asked as the Turber directed his fiery gaze on the Moran. Suddenly, Gerbil used the mirror polished blade to reflect the Turber's gaze.
The Tuff Cloth armor of Turber started to crack and set fire, causing Turber to drop his blades.
"No!!!!!" Turber yelled, charging at Gerbil with an Advanced Camping knife and Ka Bar. Gerbil met the charge parrying and slashing. The Mistress of Battle was knocked away. Gerbil ducked and reached for the Delicate Spyderco. Rising, he flicked open the blade, the back of which slammed into Turber's head, driving him back.
"Look again Turber." Gerbil said. The Turber staggered back and looked into the blade, seeing his own eyes recalling the vastness of his collection, the Vault.
Turber spun and a yellow light glowed from his eyes. An energy being emerged from his body and growled at Gerbil before running away. "The Knife Bug!" Bald1 gasped.
"Aaaah!" The Turber yelled as his armor shattered into pieces.
The Knife Bug circled and screeched before looking at Gerbil, yelling one last time before flying away.
The chanting and clapping died down as clear daylight engulfed the area. The Turber dropped to his knees and called for Gerbil. La Dona and Stamp rushed to Turber.
"Take it." Turber said, pointing to the chest on the nearby stone. Gerbil smiled at Turber and rushed off to the knife chest, resheathing the Moran.
Gerbil opened the chest and cut open the box of the VG Vaquero Grande. He closed the Delicate Spyderco, and opened the Lorena forged blade. As the blade flashed open, he saw the reflection of a maiden's eyes behind him, staring quietly as the others rejoiced.
Gerbil quickly looked into the chest and retrieved two blades, the Claw of the Son of Emer and the Micra of Leatherwearing men. Slipping the Micra into a pouch, he turned around, toward the brown haired, brown eyed handmaiden of La Dona. Silently, he placed the Claw of Emerson around her neck.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaheeeeyalalala!" he cried out, raising the VG Vaquero of the Jackalopes. The others joined his war cry and applauded him, chanting his name.
Francine looked at La Dona who nodded her head.
"Why did you give this to me?" Francine asked Gerbil.
"When I was in the forest, Perrin's cat cut with a similar knife. From that point on, I knew to respect the blade and respect those who used them. Silverwing taught me about respect but you treated me with unconditional respect."
"I am to obey my mistress. I..."
"I am no longer your mistress, oh Queen of the Jackalopes." La Dona bowed and smiled.
"Queen of the Jackalopes?!" Gerbil asked.

"Yeah, got a problem with that? Don't make me go Lorena on your buttocks." Francine smirked, placing the Claw near Gerbil's face.
Gerbil nervously smiled and thought to himself, "The Saint was right. There is no one answer to the Riddle of Steel. The wielder is the answer. So what's next? An oil massage by handmaidens?" Smoke
 
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