The Leaky Pen Staff Bio: Vlork
Once, long ago, a boy was born to a rather ordinary nomadic tribe in
the far reaches of the North. At the age of sixteen, he set out to
seek his fortune in the wider world. As the tribal elders predicted,
he wandered uneventfully for a time. They assumed that soon, he would
grow weary of adventure and return home. However, destiny had other
plans for this boy, and excitement soon filled his life. Or perhaps,
rather than the hand of destiny, it was that he stayed for a night in
the High Temple of Belgius, God of Waffles and asked in the morning if
he could get some pancakes. Thereupon, the bemused Vlork was forced to
defend himself against the entire High Priesthood of Belgius, who all
set upon him at once, screaming “Death to all pancakes!”
Ten minutes later, with the entire High Priesthood of Belgius
defeated, he made his way to a nearby tavern for breakfast. For a
second time he ordered pancakes, and while he waited for them to
arrive, incapacitated all the local toughs and drunks in a tavern
fight which to this day he firmly denies starting. Unfortunately, the
town had not yet caught on to the financial benefits that come from
being known as a good place for Heroes with large sacks of treasure
and plunder to stop between their adventures, so Vlork was taken into
custody by the local law enforcement on charges of Being a Barbarian
Hero. And thus his path was laid before him. Following in the fine
traditions of absolutely no one in particular,
Vlorkandelargibblethunklongeradinomen, Son of Bob set out to become a
Barbarian Hero.
Sitting in the jail cell, he decided that his first step was to
escape. This proved to be a bit of a problem, as he was locked in one
of the multiverse's twelve truly escape-proof cells. Regrettably, this
cell was located in a small town whose only claim to fame was the
former presence of the High Temple of Belgius, and as a result had
very few dangerous criminals of a sort that required an escape-proof
cell. So Vlork waited. The next day, he was taken to the courthouse,
and fined the token amount of eleven copper pieces. Apparently, the
townsfolk had grown tired of the fanatical cult-like attitude of the
Priests of Belgius toward alternative forms of breakfast, but could
not let Vlork off entirely without penalty for the bar fight. Then, in
thanks for the sacking of the Temple of Belgius, the townspeople threw
Vlork a celebratory party, at which he finally got his pancakes. After
an all-day breakfast feast, Vlork bid the town farewell, and set off
on his first journey as a barbarian hero.
What followed therein is not particularly relevant in this context.
Truth be told, none of this is at all relevant. I am not the same
person as this Vlork. He is not my namesake, nor I his. We are
completely unrelated. We have never met, and barring an extremely
unusual quantum event, we never will.
Recently I was asked to write a biography. However, it was not
specified that it be a biography of myself. And that, in a
rather direct fashion, brings us to what you are reading now.
Thank you, and enjoy the Leaky Pen.
--Vlork
2.2006 |
