One Hundred Years Behind the Mask

A tale of misery and deceit

In the ancient times, there was a merry band of men who played a game called hockye, the sport of gods. Hockye consisted of twelve men, divided into two "Teames," who met upon a sheet of ice to determine, with spears and a stone in the shape of a cylinder, who was the most dominant in the land. The sport of hockye was spread throughout the land, even to the desolate regions at the top of the world.
But away from the civilized villages of the lower latitudes, the teames were without order and discipline. Many of their leaders were decapitated following disappointing matches, and many of the followers disappeared, never to be heard from again.
One day in the early spring, as the Teame known as the Wolves of the Sea was on a sheet of ice in a small settlement in one of the far corners of the earth. It was a place where ships would go to anchor before returning to their home ports with curious goods from the mysterious and faraway lands to which they travelled. The Teame was honing their skills for their next contest, whenever it might be that another Teame would pass their way. Their leader had abandoned them some time ago, disappearing on a ship bound for the storied home of the Rodents of Gold, known as the Land of Sky-Tinted Waters. The Teame was in disarray. Their last stone had been worn down so thin it could break at any time, and their spears were lashed together with seaweed as they had split in two many a time.
Suddenly, a great roar came from what seemed to be underneath the ice, and the men were filled with fear. Smoke rose from the ice such as they had never seen before, blue with the peculiar smell the clothing the men wore took on after they finished a hockye contest. A man appeared before them, if you could call him a man, for his eyes looked as though they were hockye stones themselves, and he had horns and a tail and arms made from hockye spears.
"Blimey!" Lord Beaverson, originally from the kingdom of Great Britain, shouted. "It's Davy Jones Shyiak!" And a gasp of horror rose up from the Teame.
"SSSSSIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLEEEEEENNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCCEEEEEEEEE!" The creature boomed. But Lord Beaverson was right, it was indeed Davy Jones Shyiak, the devil that lurked in the ice of hockye. When hockye men were killed during a contest, it was said that the monster stole their souls on the brink of death and enlisted them on his Teame of the Undead, where they would serve one hundred years.
The Teame, whose members had barely eaten in weeks and who were festering with sores, had known their time was nigh, but when faced with their own mortality, they cowered. Shyiak advanced on them, and one of his spear-like arms reached out and pierced Chadwick von Andersonn in the chest. "Will ye choose mortality, or will ye spare thyself the depths of oblivion and join my Teame?" he hissed at poor Chadwick. The man shook with fear, and was barely able to stutter out a "y-y-y-y-es, I w-w-wi-will j-j-j-join you." And one by one, the Teame fell into servitude under the cruel master.
The Teame was forced into grueling hockye contests against all manner of unnatural creatures: goblins, ghouls, zombies, and Nanooks. Their spirits were broken, as well as their bodies. But the youngest and strongest of the Teame, a man by the name of Erich Walskinsen, stood before the master and defied him. "I will no longer compete for this Teame, for I have helped place many stones behind the Keeper and I believe that I have earned my freedom."
The cruel overlord Shyiak and his henchman, the Cobblin, laughed, a horrible, joyless sound. "But the stones ye have placed do not matter, for ye have promised us one hundred years, and ye have completed but one." And they tossed him aside. And so he toiled on.
But the word spread throughout the land that the Wolves of the Sea had been swallowed up by the Ice Devil, and it reached the Land of the Sky-Tinted Waters. The leaders of the Teame of the Rodents of Gold got together and discussed the situation.
"Well," said Don Lucio von Hedgehog, "the Wolves of the Sea were hardly a worthy adversary. Many of them laid down their spears refused to fight against our mighty Rodents of Gold. Mayhap they are better off with Shyiak."
"That may be true," replied von Hedgehog's second, who was none other than the scourge of the Wolves of the Sea, their former leader, Hillion auf der Bald, "but there is one that is worth saving. Erich Walskinsen, he would put many stones behind Keepers if we enlisted him on our Teame." And von Hedgehog, trusting in his aide's knowledge, allowed auf der Bald to pursue young Walskinsen and release him from slavery.
But when auf der Bald found the Teame of the Damned, he found even the power of the Rodent could not overcome the evil of Shyiak and the Cobblin. "You dare to come before Davy Jones Shyiak and demand the release of one member of his Teame?" the Cobblin cackled. "You will never succeed!" And he cast Hillion out of the realm.
The Cobblin called upon Walskinsen. "How did this man, auf der Bald, discover you were trying to escape? Did you tell him?" Walskinsen did not answer. "You will be punished for this! I banish you to the Striped Orange Cats of the Mountains, where you will be doomed to never become the most dominant in the land, for they have not been the most dominant in the land in many years! And you will finish out your servitude there, never to play for the Rodents of Gold in the Land of Sky-Tinted Waters!"

And that, my friends, is where the story ends, for now.