ORIGINS
In the very far away land, beyond the dreams of most, flowing with milk and money was a strange, dangerous paradise known as Eldrathia. And in this land lived hooters. No, not waitresses in orange shorts. These hooters were creatures just taller than dwarfs and just shorter than the average person. Hooters were the fiercest and most feared beings back in the day with their viciousness as terrifying as that of a lion and their machines and inventions which were far ahead of time. No man who entered the land of the hooters came back alive or whole. You don’t believe me, ask Captain shmucks who has just one eye and one arm left or Delilah who swears her kidneys aren’t what they used to be. Yhup, the hooters either kill you or rearrange your internals: lucky shmucks. You think black people are endowed… let’s just say hooters have an extra package.
But this story? This madness? It all began with that tragic, glorious, idiotic thing: love. I always knew love was just an invisible ritual devised by tribes to justify irrational behavior and emotional taxation or a social concept people just fancy; but anyway, let’s rewind: back half a century, when Eldrathia had no monsters yet. Just humans, bad choices, and a cook named Barton.
Barton, the chief cook in the King’s palace captured the attention of the Queen who was always desperate of a blessed release. I mean you can’t blame her. King Alfred was always either in battle or in the King’s court settling matters of other kingdoms not because he was so wise, but he was feared through the might of his forbidden spells. (Yeah, I was tryna sound a bit medieval) King Alfred was a Sorcerer and the only one in the whole realm. Barton, who was as skinny as a spear and as pale as guilt, wasn’t exactly eye catching but was the only help in the palace who wasn’t a eunuch. King Alfred didn’t order his castration because he was as appealing as boiled cabbage.
The Queen ordered Barton into her chambers one afternoon when she had had enough of eating at a table meant for two and toasting a ghost. He stepped in to find a completely bare woman: body poised, breasts ready, and an order hanging in the air, one that defying meant certain death. One thing led to another, and before long, Barton visited her chambers more often than he did the kitchens. What started as lust and unquenchable desire curdled into something dangerously close to love. Seven months later, yes, seven: don’t think too hard about the math: King Alfred returned from the Battle of Ninivy. He smelled smoke, he heard whispers, He walked into the Queen’s chambers mid-labor and he did not take it well. He summoned a forbidden tome from the shadowed realm and with fury and woe, cast a spell, unaware of the grievous doom it would wreck upon them all, turning both the queen and baby into ghastly creatures and casting them out of the palace. He did the same to the eunuchs who served the queen as they refused to reveal the hidden parchment in devotion and dedication to her.
And that, dear reader, was the day the hooters were born.
