The Secret Origin of Lord Madhammer

[Lord Madhammer]

Chapter I

 

The Timely Arrival of Destiny

 

 

It was a fateful evening, full of fatefulness. Portent hung in the sky like a pillow propped up on a stick. The sky grew orange as the sun slowly fell below the horizon. And the clouds were sort of pinkish too. Kind of a pretty sunset, actually.

 

But Lord Madhammer had no time for pretty sunsets. Not this evening. No, this evening would be different. For this evening would be the evening that Lord Madhammer's life changed forever.

 

The black car wound up the dusty drive towards the mansion on the hill. The iron gates closed behind the car, as it wound up the dusty drive towards the mansion on the hill. The gates were black too. The car stopped and an old man in one of those butler suits came out to the car to open the door. He was the butler. He opened the door and out stepped a man. Not just any man. This man was Lord Madhammer.

 

"Good evening, sir," said Lord Madhammer's butler.

 

Lord Madhammer's fingers twitched involuntarily, as if he would like nothing better than to strangle his butler, but he didn't do that. Instead, he said, "Evening, butler."

 

Lord Madhammer instantly walked around the car and then went inside. The mansion was huge. One of the biggest mansions of any that had been built. And it contained many secrets. But none so secret as the big secret that Lord Madhammer knew all about, but which nobody else knew anything about. Especially that butler, because butlers don't really know about secret things. They just make tea and answer the door and take the pets for a walk, if it's not raining outside.

 

Walking through the main hall, Lord Madhammer passed a large portrait of his father, hanging above the massive fireplace. There was a little brass plaque under the picture, and this is what it said:

 

KEN MADHAMMER

 

The family name, "Madhammer," had been in the Madhammer family since 1769, when Admiral Percy Squeamish, Viscount of Buxom-on-the-Green, had relocated his estate and his family and all of his servants, and his pets too, to a quaint little village called Madham.

 

The village had previously been known as "Bungwater," since its humble beginnings in 1216. However, ever since the Pig Plague of 1675 (when hundreds of people all over the countryside had succumbed to the strange disease known as "the Pig Plague disease"), the town had been known as Mad-ham.

 

Admiral Squeamish's firstborn son, Albert Squeamish, became known as "Albert the Madhammer" by his school friends. The name stuck, and was passed down from the generations to the next generations, for years to come. They didn't keep the "the" part, however. It was not fitting for one of such noble blood.

 

Little did Albert the Madhammer know of the amazing but true fate that awaited his only living descendant, Lord Madhammer.

 

(Lord Madhammer was born "Louis Bernard Madhammer" but shortened the first two names into one, because "Louis" in particular was the kind of word that would make Lord Madhammer twitch and quiver most strangely. And it was forbidden for any of Lord Madhammer's servants to use that name in his presence. So he became known as Lord Madhammer to all.)

 

When Lord Madhammer reached the basement of his mansion, he turned on a light switch. Light instantly appeared, flooding the entire cavernous room with light. Before him stood the one thing that would alter his destiny forever. The great secret that he had been carefully hiding all his life. And now his life was leading up to this moment -- the moment when everything was about to change.

[X-Bob58]

Where are the TF's????

[Lord Madhammer]

Where are the TF's????

Chill dude -- it's only chapter one.

[Sharkticonqueen]

Well.... er.... all i can say is.... :clap AWESOME!!! :clap It's well thought out and imaginative. You either thought about this before posting, or are incredable good at makeing things up as you go. Post more Reeeeal soon.

[The Diesel]

What's about to change????!!!!????

[Lord Madhammer]

Well.... er.... all i can say is....    :clap  AWESOME!!! :clap It's well thought out and imaginative. You either thought about this before posting, or are incredable good at makeing things up as you go. Post more Reeeeal soon.

That'd be option 2 -- I was bored at work today. I'll post more tomorrow, most likely.

 

So that means you'll just have to wait, Diesel! :tftongue

[X-Bob58]

wheres t3h sp4m or t3h fun131!1???

[Wikkid]

That's got alot of depth, I like it, keep it up dood. It's all in the details.

[AlutronVegeta]

Must.....read......more!!

[Lord Madhammer]

Chapter II

 

The Dawn Before the Storm

 

 

 

Africa, 1997.

 

A small village in the wilds of Kenya, Africa.

 

A lone figure stands alone in the grassy plains of Africa. The sun is setting, and it makes long shadows that look like the ominous approach of fate. For today fate would approach this lone figure most ominously.

 

The figure -- a young man in his twenties -- stands with a long knife in his hand. The knife is shiny and dull. Shiny with the sharpness of metal, and dull with the stain of blood. The blood is that of the savage and wild jungle cat, the mighty jaguar. At the young man's feet lies the dead animal, breathing no more. But the young man breathes heavily, in the way that soldiers breathe in the heat of battle.

 

The stillness of the African evening is suddenly shattered by the imminent arrival of a small airplane, descending from the sky towards the man. When the plane lands, two men in army fatigues come out of the plane and run over towards the young man. One of them speaks to him in an urgent voice:

 

"Lou -- er, Mr. Madhammer, sir -- that thing you wanted us to find, sir? Well.... we found it. You need to come right away, sir."

 

Lord Madhammer, the young man with the knife, twirls that shiny, dull knife in the air one last time, and with a final thrust, plunges it into the dead jaguar's carcass at his feet.

 

"Very well, then. Let us go, General."

 

Lord Madhammer and the two army men head back into the small airplane, and it rockets off into the evening sky. As the plane disappears on the horizon, a lone villager slowly emerges from a nearby hut, and moves over to the dead animal.

 

"Hmm," says the villager. "This may be the sign that we have been waiting for."

 

The villager didn't actually say this because those are English words, and as a native of Kenya, he didn't know any English words other than "hello," and "we're all out of the blue ones." So instead he spoke them in his native Kenyan dialect. And, if it were possible, the words sounded even more portentious in that language.

 

 

Aboard the small airplane, General Baco Contusion, the leader of a small yet militant band of rebels fighting government forces in one of those Central American countries, brought Lord Madhammer up to speed on what was going on.

 

"Sir, as you know, you've been in the wilds of Africa for the past seven years now, honing your skills and transforming yourself from a child of privilege into a man of strength and power -- so strong that you have bested the mighty jaguar.

 

"Now, it seems, sir, that your training is complete. For the first phase of the task you assigned us seven years ago -- the secret task of which we were to speak to no one else, upon pain of death -- is nearing the point of almost being completed.

 

"When your parents died and left you as the sole heir to their estate and fortune, and all their jewels, you sought a life of solitude in the wilderness, much as Moses wandered in the wilderness so many years ago. And so you relocated to this remote location, with only a loincloth to protect you from the harsh elements and the unforgiving heat of the African sun.

 

"We were your father's most trusted friends (having fought with him in many wars), and we had vowed to serve you always, because you were, and are, his son. So you decided to leave us -- myself and my faithful lieutenant, Lieutenant Braun Schweiger-Haggis -- as stewards of your estate and executors of your most secret plan.

 

"Yes, I already know all of this," Lord Madhammer interjected. "So if phase one is complete, then where is it?"

 

A silence fell in the cabin, except for the noise of the airplane's engine, and the sound of Lieutenant Schwieger-Haggis' short wave radio, currently tuned to Radio Free Kenya, which was airing another repeat of "Chicken Man."

 

The lieutenant chuckled quietly to himself, not wishing to disturb the portentious mood.

 

General Contusion looked out of the small windows of the airplane for a moment, as if pondering a great and terrible thought. It seemed as if the words that he would be about to speak would alter the course of destiny and the future of the world itself. Finally he cleared his throat and replied to Lord Madhammer's question.

 

"It is in the Yukon, sir, outside of a small Canadian town. The town is known as 'Haines Junction.' "

 

"'Haines Junction,' Contusion?"

 

"We tried for Dawson City, sir, but the hotels were all full. Apparently they are having their annual Canada Day celebrations, and tourists from every nation on earth are converging on the city. But never fear, sir -- Haines Junction will do nicely.

 

"And getting back to the point, sir, we have the specimen contained in an underground bunker, just as you specified. It will be in excellent condition when you arrive. All we need do now is fly to Nairobi, and hop on the next flight to Toronto. From there it's a simple matter of driving 3500 miles or so to Haines Junction.

 

"And here, sir," General Contusion said, as with trembling hands he brought out an ornate silver key on a long golden keychain, "is the only key to the bunker."

 

"Excellent, Contusion," said Lord Madhammer, as he slowly draped the chain around his neck. "You have served me well these many years. And now you will be rewarded."

 

Quick as lightning, Lord Madhammer performed several very complex and difficult kung fu moves on General Contusion and Lieutenant Schweiger-Haggis. Both men slumped to the ground instantly, falling on their faces. They were unconscious before they knew that they were about to be attacked by the loincloth-clad son of their trusted friend.

 

Lord Madhammer stood there above them, his loincloth remaining still and unmoved. He looked at the pilot and said, "You need to go now, Frank. Sorry, but you know how it is."

 

And so Frank the pilot left the controls of the plane, went to the back of the cabin, put on the plane's sole parachute, opened the door, and jumped out. As Frank fell through the sky through the warm African air, Lord Madhammer calmly took the controls of the plane and continued piloting it towards Nairobi, and the first step of his long journey, for which he had been waiting all his life.

 

"Haines Junction, eh?" Lord Madhammer said quietly to himself. "Sounds like I'm going to need a jacket."