Morrisy Edwards was born to Lavanya Edwards and Edwards E. Edwards of Karrton. Before we continue, it should be noted that the “E” in Edward E. Edwards did not, in fact, stand for Edward, but did stand for Edmund, the rough equivalent if say, you live in Canada.
Karrton was a small community, but Morrisy had great dreams of becoming something grand. A knight, a valiant knight riding on to the sunset to fight off dragons and become the people’s champion. He didn’t care about the women; for the longest time, Morrisy had only been interested in doing the people justice, not doing the people. In great storybooks, he read of St. George the Dragon slayer and imagined himself growing to be just like St. George.
Morrisy awoke one day to find his parents would not awaken, for they were dead, stricken by a strange form of the flu carried on lizards that was only transferable, science would later discover, during the exact moment of female orgasm. She could then transmit the lizard-flu to her partner, or fingers, if the situation called.
Morrisy wasn’t exactly heartbroken, nay, he was seventeen, a grown man. He had already outlived his brothers and sisters, his aunts and uncles, and one of his cousins. His second cousin just had a nasty habit of staying alive, even when all bets were on Death coming to reap the soul of the sickly cousin.
Morrisy sold the house, used the money to buy armor, a shield, a sword, and with the change, a small donkey to carry him from town to town, in hopes that he too could be a great hero someday, much like St. George.
Unfortunately for Morrisy, he bore a striking resemblance to St. George. So much so, that even now, today in history, the deeds between the men are often times confused. Morrisy hoisted the donkey, named “De-Donkulous” onto the ship sailing from the fair isle of Karrton and set sail for the main continent, a trip of six days. Sadly, the crewmen mistook Morrisy for St. George, who was a raging homosexual, and spent many days of the trip trying to woo Morrisy. Since the men were not at their posts, the trip ran long, and was the first recorded gay cruise in history.
De-Donkulous was lowered to the ground using the ships crane as Morrisy stepped down the gangplank and into the port town of Port Town. The town was known for being a busy, busy port, and also for being a busy, busy town. Buildings lined all sides of the streets, and as Morrisy stepped onto solid ground again, the people cheered.
“Hurrah! Our Champion, St. George is here! Hurrah! A fair maiden is locked in the tower in the North! Please, go talk to the mayor! He will give you instructions, fair St. George!”
Morrisy cleared his throat. “I’m not St. George, my name is Morrisy… The Brave!”
“Bullshit!” Someone cried out, “You’re St. George if I’ve ever seen him!”
“No, no, I most certainly am not St. George.”
The crowd began to shuffle. “Well, if you ain’t St. George, who is ya’?”
“I told you, my name is Morrisy… The Brave! And I will save the fair maiden!”
“Nah. We’ll wait for George.”
“But I can do it!”
“It’s okay, really.”
“Alright, fine,” Morrisy began, trying to be clever. “Just tell me where the Mayor’s office is, and I’ll be on my way.”
“It’s right over-“ The woman who was speaking was immediately hit over the head with a loaf of bread.
“Don’t tell that idjit! We want the maiden saved, not… Un-saved.”
Morrisy unclasped De-Donkulous from the harness. “Well, is there any hero work in the town that needs to be done?”
A voice called from the back of the town. “My litter box needs to be emptied!”
“I don’t think that’s hero’s work, ma’am.”
“But the little pieces of shit… They’re… Evil!”
“Are they?”
“No. But it’s gross and I don’t want to do it.”
“Alright, anyone else? Anyone else need any hero work done that remotely resembles hero work?”
“Over here, over here!” A man pushed his way through the crowd. “I have rats in the cellar of my bar! Vile, oversized rats that will eat a man! Huge rats. The rats are bigger than my building!”
“Yet they fit in your cellar?”
“Well… It was a rough estimate, the size. Will you please rid me of the plight?”
Morrisy frowned, drawing his sword. “Alright, take me to your bar.”
Morrisy clambered down the stairs into the cellar to be greeted by a single dead rat, dead of starvation. Morrisy poked it a few times with his sword for good measure before picking the dead creature up by the tail and bringing it upstairs triumphantly.
“I have slain the… The rat, for I am Morrisy… The Brave!”
The bartender half clapped half sighed. “Well, thank you. I don’t have any money ta’ pay you with…”
“A mere oversight, friend! I do not require money, for I am a true hero-“
“Would you take a pickled egg?”
“No.”
“Would you take two?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The bartender nodded and Morrisy let himself out. The whispers followed him out of town as he rode De-Donkulous through the gates, leaving the port town of Port Town far and away.
-
Morrisy rode into Lait the following evening, famished, wishing he had taken those pickled eggs… Although when he looked at them, the exact thought that crossed his mind was, “They look tasty, but that’s something that won’t be solid coming back out.”
The gates opened, and Morrisy rode to the Inn, looking for a place to stay. As he swung the door open, cheers erupted.
“Huzzah and well met, St. George! The Gods praise your arrival!”
Morrisy held his hand out to quell the applause. “I’m not-“
“Your regular room is right this way, sir! Please, please, follow me!”
Not one to argue this late in the night, Morrisy followed the old crazy man down the hallway to a room embossed with the words “Dragon Slayer”. Morrisy chuckled to himself as the door opened and he went to the bed, taking special precaution to hang his armor before collapsing on the silk sheets.
In the middle of the night, a fair young woman stole into St. George’s room and began to make out with the asleep shape of Morrisy’s face. He thought he was having a pleasant dream, and thusly stuck his tongue in her mouth, opening his eyes. She giggled and slid her blouse off. Morrisy sighed. The life of a hero is a good one.
“Oh, St. George, I lo-“
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I’m not St. George, but continue. You ‘lo’?”
“YOU’RE NOT ST. GEORGE?!”
“No, I’m Morrisy… The Brave!” One day, he thought to himself, he would have a troubadour to play the fanfare that should accompany the dramatic pause.
The woman, to use the vernacular of the time, flipped her shit. She grabbed her blouse and began to scream and cry, running from the room. Sensing immediate danger, Morrisy donned his armor, grabbed his sword, and climbed upon his donkey as the crowd gathered behind him.
“Lo, scallywag! Come back, Avast, avant!”
“Not tonight, thank!” Morrisy called back over his shoulder.
“Don’t you ever EVER come back, you imposter!” The town alderman cried out.
Morrisy frowned. Hero business was tougher than it looked.
And so Morrisy traveled from town to town, getting mistaken for St. George in each town and summarily either upsetting the people, making out with the people, revealing his identity and subsequently getting banned from each village he crossed. On the verge of self destruction, Morrisy crossed the Ever-Plane to reach Srin, a small village that sat on the border of No and Where.
Morrisy rode into Srin expecting the fan fare that would normally accompany St. George, but finding none. The people eyed him curiously as he dismounted De-Donkulous.
“Is there anyone here that needs hero work?”
Everyone rushed to Morrisy. “Oh, yes, we do very much so. What is your name, stranger?”
“No, I’m not St. Geo- What did you just say?”
“What is your name, stranger?”
“My name is Morrisy… The Brave!”
“Right then. What were you going on about?”
“Oh, nothing. Is there hero work that needs to be done?”
“Yes, Morrisy the Brave. There is hero work. Please, follow me,” the town elder called, indicating to the pub.
Morrisy took a seat, a glass of ale was brought out (on the house) and he kicked his legs up as the elder began to speak.
“The trouble began four moons ago. The dragon that slumbered peacefully in the Dragon Caves, situated in the Dragonia Mountain Chain awoke and started wreaking havoc on this town.”
“It looked fine from what I saw.”
“The Dragon is stealing children and flinging them from a slingshot into the stratosphere.”
“Oh,” Morrisy choked on his ale. “I could see where that could definitely be a problem.”
“Yes. As you can see, we need help. Desperately. I need a hero. I’m holding out for a hero till the end of the night. He’s gotta be fast, he’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fresh for the fight. I need to write that down. That was catchy.”
Morrisy nodded. “I shall set out at first light to slay the dragon and return peace to this fair town.”
The elder thanked Morrisy profusely. The next morning, Morrisy rode up to the mountain, wielding his sword in one hand, shield in the other, donkey twain his legs, and was immediately killed by the dragon’s fire breath.
His body passed through Srin. People cried, people talked about what a hero Morrisy the Brave was, and decided to send his body on a tour back to his home island. The body, accompanied by two people, left Srin and headed south.
The word spread through the land, as soon as the coffin hit Insville, that St. George had been killed. People were devastated as the coffin passed through each town, people crying and remembering the great deeds of St. George.
The body of Morrisy hit the town of Lait the same day St. George made his return appearance. The people scoffed at St. George, throwing stones and cursing him, yelling, “DAMN YOU, WE TOLD YOU NEVER TO COME BACK, MORRISY!”
Word spread that St. George was dead and an imposter was riding in his place, although no one really noticed that St. George rode a horse instead of a donkey. His reputation was ruined, and he succumbed to the evils of alcohol, dying a lonely death outside of a bar screaming about, “I USED TO BE FAMOUS! I DID! CURSE YOU MORRISY! CURSE YOU!”
Morrisy’s body now rests in Karrton, the small island just south of the southern tip of the south-most continent.
Legend has it, if you look to the grave during a lunar eclipse, you can see the ghost of St. George urinating on and cursing the grave of Morrisy the Brave… Also known as Morrisy the St. George Look Alike.
-
Mal
Karrton was a small community, but Morrisy had great dreams of becoming something grand. A knight, a valiant knight riding on to the sunset to fight off dragons and become the people’s champion. He didn’t care about the women; for the longest time, Morrisy had only been interested in doing the people justice, not doing the people. In great storybooks, he read of St. George the Dragon slayer and imagined himself growing to be just like St. George.
Morrisy awoke one day to find his parents would not awaken, for they were dead, stricken by a strange form of the flu carried on lizards that was only transferable, science would later discover, during the exact moment of female orgasm. She could then transmit the lizard-flu to her partner, or fingers, if the situation called.
Morrisy wasn’t exactly heartbroken, nay, he was seventeen, a grown man. He had already outlived his brothers and sisters, his aunts and uncles, and one of his cousins. His second cousin just had a nasty habit of staying alive, even when all bets were on Death coming to reap the soul of the sickly cousin.
Morrisy sold the house, used the money to buy armor, a shield, a sword, and with the change, a small donkey to carry him from town to town, in hopes that he too could be a great hero someday, much like St. George.
Unfortunately for Morrisy, he bore a striking resemblance to St. George. So much so, that even now, today in history, the deeds between the men are often times confused. Morrisy hoisted the donkey, named “De-Donkulous” onto the ship sailing from the fair isle of Karrton and set sail for the main continent, a trip of six days. Sadly, the crewmen mistook Morrisy for St. George, who was a raging homosexual, and spent many days of the trip trying to woo Morrisy. Since the men were not at their posts, the trip ran long, and was the first recorded gay cruise in history.
De-Donkulous was lowered to the ground using the ships crane as Morrisy stepped down the gangplank and into the port town of Port Town. The town was known for being a busy, busy port, and also for being a busy, busy town. Buildings lined all sides of the streets, and as Morrisy stepped onto solid ground again, the people cheered.
“Hurrah! Our Champion, St. George is here! Hurrah! A fair maiden is locked in the tower in the North! Please, go talk to the mayor! He will give you instructions, fair St. George!”
Morrisy cleared his throat. “I’m not St. George, my name is Morrisy… The Brave!”
“Bullshit!” Someone cried out, “You’re St. George if I’ve ever seen him!”
“No, no, I most certainly am not St. George.”
The crowd began to shuffle. “Well, if you ain’t St. George, who is ya’?”
“I told you, my name is Morrisy… The Brave! And I will save the fair maiden!”
“Nah. We’ll wait for George.”
“But I can do it!”
“It’s okay, really.”
“Alright, fine,” Morrisy began, trying to be clever. “Just tell me where the Mayor’s office is, and I’ll be on my way.”
“It’s right over-“ The woman who was speaking was immediately hit over the head with a loaf of bread.
“Don’t tell that idjit! We want the maiden saved, not… Un-saved.”
Morrisy unclasped De-Donkulous from the harness. “Well, is there any hero work in the town that needs to be done?”
A voice called from the back of the town. “My litter box needs to be emptied!”
“I don’t think that’s hero’s work, ma’am.”
“But the little pieces of shit… They’re… Evil!”
“Are they?”
“No. But it’s gross and I don’t want to do it.”
“Alright, anyone else? Anyone else need any hero work done that remotely resembles hero work?”
“Over here, over here!” A man pushed his way through the crowd. “I have rats in the cellar of my bar! Vile, oversized rats that will eat a man! Huge rats. The rats are bigger than my building!”
“Yet they fit in your cellar?”
“Well… It was a rough estimate, the size. Will you please rid me of the plight?”
Morrisy frowned, drawing his sword. “Alright, take me to your bar.”
Morrisy clambered down the stairs into the cellar to be greeted by a single dead rat, dead of starvation. Morrisy poked it a few times with his sword for good measure before picking the dead creature up by the tail and bringing it upstairs triumphantly.
“I have slain the… The rat, for I am Morrisy… The Brave!”
The bartender half clapped half sighed. “Well, thank you. I don’t have any money ta’ pay you with…”
“A mere oversight, friend! I do not require money, for I am a true hero-“
“Would you take a pickled egg?”
“No.”
“Would you take two?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The bartender nodded and Morrisy let himself out. The whispers followed him out of town as he rode De-Donkulous through the gates, leaving the port town of Port Town far and away.
-
Morrisy rode into Lait the following evening, famished, wishing he had taken those pickled eggs… Although when he looked at them, the exact thought that crossed his mind was, “They look tasty, but that’s something that won’t be solid coming back out.”
The gates opened, and Morrisy rode to the Inn, looking for a place to stay. As he swung the door open, cheers erupted.
“Huzzah and well met, St. George! The Gods praise your arrival!”
Morrisy held his hand out to quell the applause. “I’m not-“
“Your regular room is right this way, sir! Please, please, follow me!”
Not one to argue this late in the night, Morrisy followed the old crazy man down the hallway to a room embossed with the words “Dragon Slayer”. Morrisy chuckled to himself as the door opened and he went to the bed, taking special precaution to hang his armor before collapsing on the silk sheets.
In the middle of the night, a fair young woman stole into St. George’s room and began to make out with the asleep shape of Morrisy’s face. He thought he was having a pleasant dream, and thusly stuck his tongue in her mouth, opening his eyes. She giggled and slid her blouse off. Morrisy sighed. The life of a hero is a good one.
“Oh, St. George, I lo-“
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I’m not St. George, but continue. You ‘lo’?”
“YOU’RE NOT ST. GEORGE?!”
“No, I’m Morrisy… The Brave!” One day, he thought to himself, he would have a troubadour to play the fanfare that should accompany the dramatic pause.
The woman, to use the vernacular of the time, flipped her shit. She grabbed her blouse and began to scream and cry, running from the room. Sensing immediate danger, Morrisy donned his armor, grabbed his sword, and climbed upon his donkey as the crowd gathered behind him.
“Lo, scallywag! Come back, Avast, avant!”
“Not tonight, thank!” Morrisy called back over his shoulder.
“Don’t you ever EVER come back, you imposter!” The town alderman cried out.
Morrisy frowned. Hero business was tougher than it looked.
And so Morrisy traveled from town to town, getting mistaken for St. George in each town and summarily either upsetting the people, making out with the people, revealing his identity and subsequently getting banned from each village he crossed. On the verge of self destruction, Morrisy crossed the Ever-Plane to reach Srin, a small village that sat on the border of No and Where.
Morrisy rode into Srin expecting the fan fare that would normally accompany St. George, but finding none. The people eyed him curiously as he dismounted De-Donkulous.
“Is there anyone here that needs hero work?”
Everyone rushed to Morrisy. “Oh, yes, we do very much so. What is your name, stranger?”
“No, I’m not St. Geo- What did you just say?”
“What is your name, stranger?”
“My name is Morrisy… The Brave!”
“Right then. What were you going on about?”
“Oh, nothing. Is there hero work that needs to be done?”
“Yes, Morrisy the Brave. There is hero work. Please, follow me,” the town elder called, indicating to the pub.
Morrisy took a seat, a glass of ale was brought out (on the house) and he kicked his legs up as the elder began to speak.
“The trouble began four moons ago. The dragon that slumbered peacefully in the Dragon Caves, situated in the Dragonia Mountain Chain awoke and started wreaking havoc on this town.”
“It looked fine from what I saw.”
“The Dragon is stealing children and flinging them from a slingshot into the stratosphere.”
“Oh,” Morrisy choked on his ale. “I could see where that could definitely be a problem.”
“Yes. As you can see, we need help. Desperately. I need a hero. I’m holding out for a hero till the end of the night. He’s gotta be fast, he’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fresh for the fight. I need to write that down. That was catchy.”
Morrisy nodded. “I shall set out at first light to slay the dragon and return peace to this fair town.”
The elder thanked Morrisy profusely. The next morning, Morrisy rode up to the mountain, wielding his sword in one hand, shield in the other, donkey twain his legs, and was immediately killed by the dragon’s fire breath.
His body passed through Srin. People cried, people talked about what a hero Morrisy the Brave was, and decided to send his body on a tour back to his home island. The body, accompanied by two people, left Srin and headed south.
The word spread through the land, as soon as the coffin hit Insville, that St. George had been killed. People were devastated as the coffin passed through each town, people crying and remembering the great deeds of St. George.
The body of Morrisy hit the town of Lait the same day St. George made his return appearance. The people scoffed at St. George, throwing stones and cursing him, yelling, “DAMN YOU, WE TOLD YOU NEVER TO COME BACK, MORRISY!”
Word spread that St. George was dead and an imposter was riding in his place, although no one really noticed that St. George rode a horse instead of a donkey. His reputation was ruined, and he succumbed to the evils of alcohol, dying a lonely death outside of a bar screaming about, “I USED TO BE FAMOUS! I DID! CURSE YOU MORRISY! CURSE YOU!”
Morrisy’s body now rests in Karrton, the small island just south of the southern tip of the south-most continent.
Legend has it, if you look to the grave during a lunar eclipse, you can see the ghost of St. George urinating on and cursing the grave of Morrisy the Brave… Also known as Morrisy the St. George Look Alike.
-
Mal
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