MAPMAKER — TERGAU’S PARADE

Instructions

- The minute before the show. He sat in silence. For nearly four hours, his petty designer had nitpicked almost everything about his outfit, from making sure the exact dimensions fit without a hitch. They perfected the orientation and height of the magnetic twin blades forming an oval above him that followed his head, giving the impression of a metallic and artificial halo. He was wearing what the designer called a "pickelhaube." What a curious hat... he could feel its weight and the ornate decorations it had. Of course, said designer ranted on and on about its history, its significance, its symbolism. And they talked so much about colors, an obsession over that which he could not perceive. Their chirpy, unimaginably quick voice maddened him beyond measure. But as much as he despised the annoying character of his designer, he was just as pleased by his outfit. At least it would be perfect? Maybe? He was hidden in the interior of his chariot, wherein the texture was distinctly like cardboard, with the exception that it was several times sturdier. It was also brittle. Well, they practiced the routine for several hours. The plan was simple, yes? - - - The chariot rolled forward. It wasn’t a very interesting or flashy thing, for now. The thing was decorated to look like the interior of a war-room, in its elaborately carved wooden railings preventing the tribute from falling into the horde of fans below. Most curiously, it had a wall with useless thickness. Mounted on said wall was a large map, elaborate and high-quality. It was hand-painted and decorated with care. But still no tribute in sight. The crowd was similarly confused. Where was the tribute? Absent? Perhaps running late, just now realizing in embarrassment that they’d missed their first impression for the capitol denizens? From the district two chariot, a sudden /thud/ caught the attention of several members of the crowd. And then… - A PUNCH THROUGH THE MAP REVEALS AN EBONY PAW. DISTRICT TWELVE IS OFF THE MAP. THE CLAWS UNSHEATHE, DECORATED WITH GOLD. IT RIPS APART DISTRICT ELEVEN WITH EASE. THE TENTH DISTRICT IS NO MATCH FOR THE TEETH OF THE CONQUERER, SHARPER THAN THAT OF THE BEASTS THEY HEARKEN. ARMED TO THE TEETH, A LITERAL INTERPRETATION. The snout and both arms detract. A pause. DISTRICT NINE, SLICED WITH A SCYTHE LIKE GRAINS IN HARVEST. HE HAD FELLED THE REAPERS. DISTRICT EIGHT. IT STANDS NO CHANCE IN THE FACE OF THE BLADE, RIPPING APART AS IF IT WERE THE TEXTILE IT PRODUCED. AN AXE, CHOPPING DOWN THE LUMBER DISTRICT. WHAT IRONY, THE FAVORED TOOL SLITS THE THROAT OF ITS MASTER. ANOTHER SLICE WITH CLAWS ALONE. DISTRICT SIX IS ELIMINATED. DISTRICT FIVE… THE ENERGY OF THE KICK RIVALS ITS PRODUCTION. THE SHEER FORCE MAKES ITS IMPRESSION FLY OFF THE CHARIOT AND INTO THE MASSES BELOW. A THREE-PRONGED WEAPON PIERCES DISTRICT FOUR… AND ITS SHEER WIDTH TAKES DISTRICT THREE WITH IT. And district two is left untouched. It will inherit the fallen. FINALLY, A SCEPTER! IT BREAKS THE LAST BARRIER OF THE MAP, RELEASING THE TRIBUTE FOR ONCE AND FOR ALL. - Out stepped Tergau von Utell, his mighty cape billowing in the wind, holding up a longsword; it is his true weapon, its blade too precious to be used for lowly cardboard and scrap. The sword was swung as a victory knight would swing, upwards in great triumph. And the show was finished! Just as his torso emerged from the now-shattered map, the chariot was already galloping through the last strip of the runway and neared the curtains. He heard cheers following him, the snapping of glowsticks and the throwing of roses following his chariot and his debut. What a glorious debut, and what a grand finale! Except… it was not. He clicked his tongue a handful of times; the designers forbade him to do so for fear of unsettling the audience, but what did they know? The echoes that came back to him were not well-boding; a curtain was rapidly approaching, but behind the muffled barrier wasn’t a standard waiting room. It was somehow more eccentric. Hm. Perhaps it was the /real/ audience? [cont.below]