Word: Degringolade

dégringolade

[ dey-gran-gaw-lad; English dey-grang-guh-lahd ]

noun, plural dé·grin·go·lades [dey-gran-gaw-lad; English dey-grang-guh-lahdz] .

French. a quick deterioration or breakdown, as of a situation or circumstance.

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               Everything was perfect.  All possibilities were accounted for.  Nothing could have gone wrong.  Which is, of course, why everything did go wrong.

               When the aliens showed up on Earth, we had plenty of warning.  Unlike what happens in most Hollywood movies, the extraterrestrial ship showed up on our telescopes months before the ships arrived.  Radio transmissions were sent out, containing the basics of our three most common languages: English, Spanish, and Chinese.  The soon to be visitors did the same, sending basic lessons of their language.  Thanks to this, we knew they were willing to be diplomatic and civil in their visit to our planet.

               The entire world jumped into action.  Delegates from every country in the world made plans for the aliens.  Things to do, places to see.  Every step was carefully planned out so that our guests would see humanity in the best possible way.

               And for almost two weeks, it was good.  Nothing went wrong.  The alien delegation was suitably entertained, and had no problem eating our food.  In fact, they were particularly fond of dark chocolate, saying it was highly nutritious for them.  And just like that, we knew what our prime export on the galactic market would be. 

               And then Murphy and his law came calling.  Nobody remembers what city it was in, or even what country.  Hell, the continent is a mystery these days.  All we know is that it happened because of a pigeon.  A common, everyday grey pigeon.  That was what caused everything to collapse. 

               While the aliens were being shown the sites of one of the big cities, the bird took flight, and then did what all pigeons do.  It pooped.  A chunky white blood of bird feces landed on the head of the alien’s leader.  This was bad.  It got worse when the human guides tried to play it off for laughs and wipe it off.

               See, the aliens obviously not told us everything about their culture.  That would be crazy, right?  Well, it turns out that the act of cleaning another is one of the biggest insults there is.  It’s like speaking baby talk to an adult, but ten times worse.  Needless to say, our guests were not pleased. 

               And from there, everything spiraled out of control.  Every attempt we made to placate them ended up making things worse.  It was either an insult to them, or else came off as pandering and insincere.  It was not long before they left.

               They went back to their home planet, leaving us to wonder if we had blown our chance at a good relationship with the larger galactic society.  Our question was answered five years later.  The aliens came back.  But this time, they were not here to be civil.  There were a lot more of them, and these ships were not built for politics.

               And well, you know the rest.  It was a massacre.  The only reason we’re still alive is because the aliens need the manpower to work the various farms and factories that have take over the planet.  An that, my young friend, is how a pigeon caused the fall of humanity.

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Living in a big city must suck if, for no other reason, you have to deal with pigeons all day.  Like, all the time if you're outside, there will be pigeons.  Must get annoying.  Unless the pigeons act like these guys.  Then that must be pretty cool.

Word: Svengali

Svengali

[ sven-gah-lee, sfen- ]

noun

a person who completely dominates another, usually with selfish or sinister motives.

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               Lord Elmire was in a good mood as he entered his colleague’s room.  So far, everything had gone wonderfully for him and his territory.  And it was about to get so much better.  He could feel it in his sizable stomach.

               “Greetings, Moren.” Lord Elmire said.  “And how are you this fine day?”

               Lord Moren Transi stood by the window, overlooking the land surrounding his manor.  The taller man peered over his shoulder.  “I am excellent, Julous.  And you?  How is your daughter doing?”
               “Both of us are in fine health, thank you.”

               “Wonderful.  That is so good to hear.  Please, do have a seat.”

               Julous took his host up on his offer, selecting one of the plush seats Moren kept just for guests.  A serving girl came and offered him a glass of fine liquor.  The lord eyed the girl as he took the glass.  She was very pretty, and was dressed to show an almost scandalous amount of skin.  She looked nervous and scared, but that was to be expected.  Thankfully, the servant binding on her ankle made her steady and prevented any unfortunate accidents. 

               “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your summons?” Julous asked after taking a sip of his drink. 

               Moren sat across from his guest, but waved away the offered drink his servant brought him.  Julous swore he saw the girl flinch, but that was most likely a trick of the eye.  The magic on her binding kept such things from happening, or at least greatly suppressed them. 

               “I’ve been thinking.” The lord said.  “Both of our territories have been prospering at an unprecedented level, have they not?”

               “Indeed.” The guest said with a nod.  “I have more coin in my coffers now than in the past five years combined.”

               “Good, good.  Well, given that, I thought it was time we merged our two lands.”

               Julous’ face lit up.  “A formal alliance then?  How wonderful.  Your son and my daughter will make a fine couple, and your lands will be all the stronger for it.”

               Moren smiled.  It was a thin, small thing, but for some reason, it sent the hairs on the back of Julous’ neck standing on end. 

               “I apologize, but you seem to have misunderstood me.  I must have misspoke, so it is perfectly understandable.  I did not mean an alliance.  I meant you would submit to me, and I would claim your lands as my own.”

               The large man’s face fell.  “That joke, Moren, was in very poor taste.”

               “No joke.  You will kneel to me.  Here.  Now.  Oh, don’t worry, I’ll treat you well.  You’ll retain some manner of influence, second only to my own.”

               Julous set his glass aside.  “And what makes you think that I’ll submit?  Our armies are equal in strength.  Any conflict between us will end in an unfortunate amount of bloodshed and weaken us enough that others can swoop in and take over.  And there’s no guarantee you’ll win such a conflict.  Need I remind you that of the two of us, I’m the better tactician.”

               “Indeed, indeed.  You are quite cleaver, despite your appearance.  But that does not matter.  You will still submit to me.”
               “And why is that?”
               “Because your lands already belong to me.  You just don’t know it yet.”

               “Oh?”
               “You remember the sad state your territory was in just a few years ago, yes?  Well, why is it prospering now?”

               “That would be my new advisor.  He did propose some revolutionary ideas.  I was hesitant to adopt them at first, but now I’m quite glad I did.”

               “And where did this new advisor come from?”

               Lord Julous Elmire thought about his advisor’s background.  It hit him in a flash and his blood ran cold.  This was aided by the chilling smile that snaked along Moren’s face.

               “Oh yes.  You know now, don’t you?  My men have been infiltrating your lands for years.  Your people might as well already by mine.”

               Julous’ hand glowed and the objects in the room sprang to life at his command.  Moren sat, unperturbed by the threat. 

               “Now, now, Julous.  Let’s not be hasty.” Moren said calmly.  “Even if you did that, what good would it do?  We are in my house on my land.  How far do you think you would get if you harmed me?”

               The lord trembled and the glow around his hands dissipated.  The objects clattered to the ground. 

               “There we go.  That is much better.”

               “Why?  Why do this?  What do you want with my land that you would go to such lengths to get it?”

               “Why?  Hm, well, I suppose their wealth and resources will help in acquiring other territories, thus furthering my rise to power.  But really, that is just a bonus.  I just want the land.”

               “You…want it?”

               “Oh yes.  I want it, and so I take it.  Simple, is it not?”

               The hefty man’s eyes went wide.  “Greed?  Nothing but pure greed?”
               “Correct.  Now, kneel.  You have no choice in the matter.  If you want to walk out of here alive, you will do as I say.”

               Out of the corner of his eyes, Julous could see a few servants gathering.  He was also keenly aware that all were armed.  Not heavily, but armed, nonetheless.  With clenched teeth, the former Lord Elmire stood and knelt before his new lord.

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Could I have done this without making it a fantasy story?  Without the magic and weird names and stuff?  Yes.  Yes I could have done that.  Quite easily, in fact.  So why did I include these aspects when they are completely unnecessary to the story?  Because I wanted to, that's why.  So there, ha-ha.  

Word: Barmecidal

Barmecidal

[ bahr-muh-sahyd-l ]

adjective

giving only the illusion of plenty; illusory: a Barmecidal banquet.

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               Brad groaned and nursed his aching head.  He probed his body and found that, other than a massive headache, his left ankle was also in bad shape.  He had not thought the fall would be so bad when he jumped into it.  It had seemed like only a few feet.  Not enough to cause any harm.  But, his aching head and foot were a constant reminder of how wrong he had been.

               “Greetings, human.” The voice filled the area and was raspy and thin. 

               Brad looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, but it was far too dark to see anything.

               “Who’s there?” Brad called.

               “I am the one who lives in this cavern.  Oh, don’t worry, I don’t mind the sudden intrusion.  I wasn’t doing anything important anyway.  Lucky for you, I had finished my dinner already.”

               Lights slowly filled the room, and it was indeed a room.  Small wooden pieces of furniture were set up, and doors lined the stone walls.  And in the center of the room was a creature that Brad could only think of as a goblin.

               It was short, with lumpy, dirty green skin, sharp ears and big eyes.  It also had some nasty looking teeth in its overly large mouth.  While Brad was easily twice its size, he still did not want to mess with something with teeth like that, especially with a bad ankle.  At least it was not being overtly hostile.  It was, thankfully, clothed in a heavy cloth, stitched together in a way that made it one step nicer than rags.  Brad did not want to know what the many stains were from.

               “Uh, okay, good.” Brad said.  “So, do you think you can show me the way out?  I mean, if you don’t mind or anything.”

               “Oh, no, not at all.”  The creature said with a disturbing grin.  “Oh, but it would be a shame for you to visit just to leave, wouldn’t it?  Why not play a game first?”

               “What, uh, what kind of game?”

               “A game where you stand to gain quite a bit.” The creature pulled a single gold coin from somewhere under its outfit and tossed it towards Brad.  It rang on the stone with a satisfying clink.  Brad was immediately interested.

               “So, what do I do?”

               The creature snapped its fingers and four of the doors grew to fit Brad. 

               “I will ask you three questions.”  The goblin said.  “Answer them however you like, I won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong.  Once I’m over, I’ll let you in one of these doors, depending on how many you got right.  Each one has a different amount of gold in it, and you can take all of what you see behind them.”

               Brad smiled wide.  Even a single gold coin could be worth a decent amount.  He could make a real fortune if he answered well.

               “Your first question:  How does one control the wind?”

               Brad smirked.  “That’s easy.  Fans.  Get a bunch of fans and you can move the air any direction you want.”

               The goblin let out a low, throaty chuckle.  “Very well.  Your second question:  What words do trees speak?”

               “Trees don’t talk.  They’re plants.”

               “I see, I see.  Your final question: What is the lion’s favorite pray to hunt?”

               “Hm…Gazelle, I think.”

               The goblin nodded.  “Very well.  Come with me, I will show you to your reward.”

               The goblin went to one of the doors and opened it.  Even before a very confident Brad could enter the room, he could see the piles of glittering coins on the other side.  He dashed into the room and saw piles of gold bigger than he was.  More of the yellow metal than any man could ever hope to carry.

               “This is all for me?” He asked.

               “Oh yes, it is your prize for your answers.”

               Brad obviously had gotten all the questions right to get such wealth.  Now he just had to figure out how he was going to carry it all.  He reached for a handful of gold.  His fingers touched nothing but air.  No matter what he did, the gold remained in the pile, untouchable.  The goblin’s laughter filled the room.

               “You fool!  You answered none of my questions right.  Fans, really?  You are truly an idiot.  And for that, you get nothing but illusions.  Fake money for fake wit.  Appropriate, don’t you think.  Oh, and one more thing.  There is no way out of my home.  Enjoy your shiny pile of nothing while you rot away in my larder.”

               As the door shut, the goblin’s laughter echoed in the room lit by wealth that none could ever have.    

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Good rule of thumb: Never trust a fairy with anything.  And yes, goblins are a type of fairy, at least in older folklore.  These days they're something else entirely.