Side Quest: The Mount Shasta Shuffle!

I hope the Ides of April find ye well, mortals! I, the immortal wizard Amoenus Franco, spent the weekend deep inside Mount Shasta, at the mysterious Lemurian sub-city of Telos—ye shall scarcely believe what transpired…

Late Friday night—after our wonderful & self-indulgent 200th episode special—I found myself ambling back from the tavern, singing nonces & nonsense, when KA-ZRAMM! Before me appeared a dapper Gray alien, dressed to 1640’s equivalent of the nines.

“Good even & twenty, good Master Mage,” he buzzed, in the typical Gray alien accent.

I bowed, returning his courtesy, “The Moon marks ye well, good Master Martian.”

A tense moment passed; I worried I had offended the little sir, who perhaps hailed from Neptune, or Zeta Reticuli, or a hatchery beneath Sacramento? But, nay, he simply paused to withdraw an album of woodcuts from ‘neath his cloak! He showed me views of his home on Mars, & provided an incredible amount of gossip. After this pleasant planetary exchange, I politely inquired the reason for his visit.

“To business, to business, aye, ‘ere we come to grips with ruin instead!,” he cried, in a perfect imitation of the famous Shakesmartian actor, Zann Qilkes Zooth.

He explained, in rapid hyper-ambic pentameter, that the so-called “Galactic Federation of Light” convened in far Telos, with plans of DESTRUCTION. Unless this world sent a representative that very night—a being to prove the worth of all Earth—the Federation would obliterate all life! All life, for all time, erasing the future & past & present all with one horrible violet ray! This grim responsibility fell, it seemed, to me.

Master Martian & I caught the nearest Moonbeam, & shimmered along the ley-lines to Mount Shasta. Along the way, I noticed a growing gaggle of ghostly gawkers—mortal souls, traveling out-of-body, attracted by our hue & cry. Aye, they would bear witness, to either ultimate glory, or final failure!

We zoomed past the portal, zipped through the wonderful garden level, & I levitated gently down into the center of the Graymoyoj Memorial Amphitheatre. A shiver ran up my spine; I last visited this place before the fall of Atlantis, fighting for my life against goblin-gladiators. Miserable memories indeed—but Earth needed my focus, not my misery! I whirled about, flapping my cloak dramatically, to face the Ruling Council of the Federation.

They floated above me, horrible visages wobbling inside crystals of pure aether. “Cowards!,” I snarled, “Have ye no decency, no courage? Dooming a world by crystal?” I know that feels aggressive, mortals, but that is how ye must deal with the kind of folks who claim to run a “Galactic Federation of Light.” Deference only inflates their star-spanning egos!

Oh, they frowned, but remained silent. Cowards indeed! I drew my wand, & summoned a lectern, to begin my impassioned defense of all Earth. But, afore I could speak a word, some of the spectral spectators began to jeer.

“Git back to space!,” one shouted. “Earth for Earthlings!,” screamed another. “Stop the Obama Federation!,” a particularly stupid one howled. More & more, the voices poured forth. I looked back at my anti-audience, horrified. So many of these floating souls, attracted to the workings of the spirit realm, seemed to be raving right-wing lunatics. I would save these morons? For this gibbering crowd of goons I risked my immortal life? Ardent rage rose within—

But! The good Master Martian tugged upon my cloak, & pointed gently to a small group of misty mortals, huddled together, speaking kind words of encouragement.

“Goodly ones yet live among them, Master Mage. Do they deserve the violet ray of omnicide?”

He spoke truly, & my rage turned to shame, then determination. With a wave of my wand, I transmuted the very air into a symphony, ethereal instruments, loud enough to drown out the disturbing & deranged InfoWarriors. The spectral band began to play, & I, began…to dance.

Slowly, at first, building with the rhythm of the wind. I stepped the paces of Creation, from the first glimmers in the dark, to the first breath of life, into the high hum of civilization. A pas de bourrée for Atlantis, pirouettes for Akkad, an entire sequence en pointe to represent the full course of Rome—for hours on end, I dazzled the encrystalled cowards from the Federation! I danced for joy, for tragedy, for despair & for hope. I tried, mortals, to show all that thy kind has to offer, & all that ye could be!

At my last step, I bowed low, sweating & heaving. I gazed up at the Council—gone! Fled back into space, they had, embarrassed by the power of dance. I turned, & the audience evaporated; even Master Martian was nowhere to be found. I stood again on the road home from the tavern, as though I had never left. A dream? An ale-borne fantasy? I cannot know—but I know we are here, mortals, with no violet rays yet to strike. & for today, that must be enough.

& so I resumed my merry way, a-singing with an extra spring in my step. “As I came back through goblin city, at the hour of twelve at night…”

Not to brag, mortals, but, YE ARE WELCOME. Despite the overwhelming presence of conservative quacks, despite the despair-inducing crowd of “enlightened” hatemongers, I DANCED. Give thanks to the good Master Martian, ne? & please, keep the rabid right-wingers away from Mount Shasta. I fear they may doom us all…but not today! & so I thank ye for reading, & hope ye enjoyed this tale.

Please consider, if ye have not already, supporting our work with $5 monthly. Maintaining these calves comes not cheaply. I shall write ye again Wednesday with news of this week’s episode—201! A new era begins! I hope the week treats ye well, & I hope yet get a chance to dance or sing a bit. ‘Tis an easy cure for a heavy heart, at least for a little while. Be well, mortals…

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Ballerino