[RPG] [FEI] [Lasanar] The Beatings Will Continue until Morale Improves

[Samuel Knowlton]

An excerpt from the DODDIAD, to be published in a couple decades:

'...being the third part of the DODDIAD, in which Ulwitt Dodd is the chief 
agent of the Duke of Ossaet and the paramount knight of that land, 
concerning his adventures in SANNZOS."

SETTING: THE SURLY PEASANT, a PUB of QUESTIONABLE REPUTE in SANNZOS, Duchy 
of SASRHAS, capital of UNPRONOUNCCABLE PLACES.

Dodd sat across from a burly-looking peasant by the name of Blythe. They had 
both had a few.

"And so I sez," said Dodd, "M'lud, if you ARREST him before I torture him, 
then he can claim abuse by the authorities. But if we just throw a bag over 
his head, he won't even know who got 'em, and then come the next day we can 
act all concerned about how 'e asn't got any thumbs!"

Blythe laughed uproariously.

"So let me show you what we're doing here these days," said Blythe, standing 
a little unsteadily. "Sannzos has a new chief export business, and it's one 
I think you'd be proud of, what with you being from Sannzos."

"I don't know nuffin about exports, e-con-o-mees or business." Dodd shook 
his head as he rose to follow Blythe outside. "But if it's good for Sannzos, 
it's good for Lasanar, right?"

"Hahahahahaha!" said Blythe.

Outside, Blythe lead Dodd to a nearby field, where several filthy, 
illiterate peasants were busy trying to draw back the strings of shortbows. 
One or two had the strength to actually do it, while most of them just end 
up pulling a muscle.

"What's all this then?" Dodd surveyed the field.

"Welcome to VIVE LA REVOLUTION," declared Blythe.

Dodd stared at him. "Veeev la rev oh lush eeee awn? What kind of talk is 
that?"

Blythe faltered. "Dudley read it in a book," he explained, gesturing to 
Dudley, who nearly fell over trying to get the better of his shortbow. There 
was a loud 'TWANG' and an arrow went flying past Dodd's head.

"Dudley can /read/," Blythe added with no small amount of pride.

"Well that makes one of us," grumbled Dodd. "So what is it you do here?"

"We make rebels," replied Blythe cheerily.

Dodd stared.

"For export," Blythe added. "For only a nominal fee, we can take your 
average, garden-variety peasant whose biggest worry in the world is his 
turnips, fill his head with nonsense and give him a rudimentary training in 
simple weaponry such that, together with one or two dozen others like him, 
he poses a rudimentary threat to a trained professional such as yourself."

"I see," said Ser Dodd.

"It's marvelous fun," Blythe declared.

"So you're a rebel leader," Dodd said skeptically.

"In a manner of speaking," Blythe agreed. "I'm not so much 'the leader of a 
rebellion' as I am the leader of rebellion-S. A sort of meta-revolutionary, 
if you will."

"I don't know what that means," said Dodd, clubbing Blythe over the head 
with a steel gauntlet.

------

THE DUNGEON OF SANNZOS.

"First of all," Dodd demanded, "What are you doing here? And second of all, 
where is the dungeon?"

"Well," said Percy, "Galiard fired me from Ossaet over some misunderstanding 
about how -- what did he say -- 'whatever Colasan does, you just do as well? 
What are you, some kind of monkey? No, you're not a monkey. A monkey could 
be taught. You're worse than a monkey. A monkey would be competent."

"First good decision m'lud has made in weeks," growled Dodd.

"As for the dungeon.," Percy explained, "We built a dungeon here in Sannzos, 
but then the rebels burned it down during one of the revolts. So we rebuilt 
the dungeon, but then the rebels took it over during one of the revolts and 
made it a rebel headquarters. So then WE burned down the dungeon and built 
it up again, but now it's the First Lasanar Bureaucratic Batallion Command 
Headquarters."

Percy stepped aside.

The walls of the cells had been knocked down, creating one gigantic space 
seperated into small, rectangular areas Percy described as 'cubicles,' each 
of which contained a scholar, a civil servant, or a bureaucrat of some kind. 
The room was further subdivided into Sectors, each of which was responsible 
for one particular area of service, and traveling from one Sector to the 
next required a special pink form, signed in triplicate, which was difficult 
as only two of the civil servants actually knew how to write.

"I have a rebel leader," Dodd shoved forward Blythe, who had regained 
conscious and was happily enjoying being under arrest.

"I'm being oppressed," explained Blythe matter-of-factly. "Comes with the 
territory."

Percy studied Blythe critically. He frowned.

"I'm not sure what we can do with him," said Percy.

"So if you don't deal with rebels in the dungeon," asked Dodd, "What do you 
do with them?"

Percy shrugged. "Let them go, mostly."

"Bollocks that!" said Dodd, pulling a long, wicked knife from his belt and 
turning to Blythe.

"AHEM!" said Percy, indicating a large sign on the far wall:

BEATING A PEASANT IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH.

UNLESS YOU ARE A PEASANT

IN WHICH CASE IT IS PUNISHABLE BY A TAX CUT

Dodd's eyes grew wide. "You can't be serious."

"I don't make the rules, buster," Percy replied defensively.

"Okay, look," Dodd said, "Hows about I establish, you know, an Embassy of 
Ossaet, like over there, in that unused cubicle, and that five-by-five 
square foot area will be the sovereign territory of Ossaet, where, you know, 
we do things our way? Just one cubicle. How bad can it be?"

"Sure," said Percy, who didn't really follow. "Whatever you say."

Dodd dragged Blythe over to the cubicle and set about making a sign of his 
own. A short while later, there were two signs in the room. The one in 
Dodd's dark, faraway corner read:

THE BEATINGS WILL CONTINUE UNTIL MORALE IMPROVES.

(WELCOME TO OSSAET.)