This story was about a retired warrior who was farming a crop of mungbeans. At this stage I had no idea what a mungbean was or that they were even real vegetables. It just clicked in my head that I would use this fascinating word as a nickname next time I was online.
It just struck me as a really funky nickname to use on the net.. and well the nick just stuck! People recognise me now using that name and I don't think I'll change it anytime soon cause it suits me and my lifestyle perfectly.
So that's it. Not exciting in the least and I'm sure you wish you'd never asked now!!
Chapter I: “QUAZORTH tha Mighty”
Once upon a time, in a village far far away, tucked into the base of a series of mountains called ‘Trippy High’ mountains sat a man.
Now this was no ordinary man – this was the great warrior Quazorth tha Mighty, renowned for once splitting eight men’s heads with one single blow. (Even thought he remembers the incident and only it went six men’s guts and three blows.)
Quazorth was a proud man, once. Now…. Now he just sat, still a mountain of a man himself just not as impressive as when he used to lead his clan. Still… Still…. Sitting still. The moss that once only touched his crossed legs now melted with his tangled beard. Years of doing nothing but meditation had made him soft, no killing, no pillaging, no fun. Years of growing fields of mungbeans had given him a green thumb and he had given up his previous life as Hykarian Warlord.
Now he fought for peace and the right of all mungbeans (and other beans) to live free, prosper and not fear the cultivation.
A lone peapod called out in the night
“Quazorth”
“Yes, little peas?” he quietly returned.
“Quazorth… Oh mighty one,” it whimpered, “tomorrow is a Harvest Moon and my brothers and I fear for our lives. Oh what shall become of us?”
Quazorth pondered this question out loud.
“Shall I harbor these small veggies with my mighty arms strength and unmatched intellect… or shall I go on with my mediations?”
After much deliberation on the subject at hand Quazorth boomed “HEAR ME NOW, bringers of impending doom, I QUAZPORTH now protect these peas and lo to anyone who shall try to gain these veggies as their prize!!” His voice was frightening and scared the little peas but his fields of mungbeans (who had witnessed his displays before) were not and continued giggling as if nothing had interrupted their afternoons childish games.
Quazorth lifted himself up tearing years of moss build up off his flesh and out of his hair. Now this was a sight, Quazorth… Standing. See it had been years since he last felt the need to stand as his gardens and he had such a good relationship that they had learned to look after themselves. They had also learn that under Quazorth's mighty, relentless, steely gaze that they would surely be safe for the rest of their little veggie lives.
In return for his oath of eternal security all the little mungbeans chose to hunt for their caring carer, all the moss decided to keep him warm, the trees gave him fruit and the mountain his throne. Standing was something that made Quazorth feel good. He stretched his back and arms, then a few moments later took his first steps in near twenty years, his first steps since the day when (after a full days work on his fields) he sat down on his rock and the veggies began to talk to him.
Oh… that day when the veggies first began to talk! Quazorth had felt as if his mind was under the effects of some weird Asian herbal medicine but no, talk they did!! On that day, Quazorth had decided to befriend his little neighbours and they all had made their pacts, all the plants and rocks and waters yet no animals were invited to partake in these dealings. Simply because the plants and rocks and waters needed something to kill, with which to feed Quazorth in return for his care.
“DANG it feels good to stand, to stretch.. to walk tall once again.” The big fella bellowed. All the little mungies hoorayed their mutual idol, their one true warrior pal. One particular mungbean – ZARJAZ – hoorayed the loudest because he truly idolised that man.
Quazorth picked the moss from his extremely long red, grey, green locks, then started the slow methodical treatment on his long, thick beard. “Back to the stones for you my moss, you have kept me quite warm all these years! Yes… served me well!” He remarked.
“My friends gather round for I have found a quest which I deem worthy of attentions. A yonder enslaver of your brothers and sisters believes he can get away with the slaughter and wholesale trade of your kin’s corpses or flesh. I plan to track him down with the help of this pea pod. These young brothers traveled this way just to find out if the rumour of my continued existence was true and in finding it was true have asked me to save them and their kin in different fields than these.”
Quazorth looked to the mountains called Trippy High.
“First I shall have to collect Mejehnja from that peak.”
A look of remembrance came over him. Mejehnja was Quazorth's majick double-edged offensive battle-axe. Years ago before Quzaorths meditations began, he had taken the axe to Trippy High’s highest peak and lodged it firmly into the cliff. Taking great care that the position of his awesome weapon was not found out. Forever keeping its offensive powers away from all living things always. Except now he had a need for it again, he had a battle to wage. An enslaver to kill. The time was right.
Quazorth farewelled his small companions, as his journey up the mountains would simply be too harsh weather-wise for their tine organic bodies to handle.
“Mighty one, must you go?” Called out all the mungies and other organics.
“Yes, yes I must… let me put it this way – if I idly stood by and watched you nearly all die, would… no could you forgive me? Probably not!” Said he.
With that explaination all the veggies fully understood.
“Now I must away.”
Just like that he turned and started towards the mountain, his friend ‘Trippy High’.
As Quazorth turned a voice called out, he stopped and listened. It was Zarjaz tha brave. Zarjaz was the bravest of all the mungbeans in all of the fields under Quazorth’s care.
One winters moon, under an angry fairy floss blizzard, Zarjaz took down a gigantic HWARRAKNOID (a rather large monkey-spider type creature whose abdomen yeilded the tastiest treats ever) all on his ownski, with nought but vine and a brance of glass off a nearby glass tree which by luck of chance had been shedding, just to feed his idol and protector. All the other mungbeans and organics had been hibernating and only Zarjaz could tell Quazorth hungered. Since that moment when Quazorth awoke from meditation to find a young Zarjaz covered in ooze, glass blade still in hand and still high on on some form of vegie adrenalin, he had taken a liking to him particularaly and called on him for company on many occasions.
“Yes, Zarjaz?” Queried Quazorth.
“Quazorth,” said Zarjaz steadily, “I obelieve it my right as a vegie warrior to accompany you and, under your command, help in whatever ways I can in your quest.”
Quazorth thought a moment… “Are you sure?” Asked he.
“Yes.” Came the reply.
“Then so be it….. My friends, we now take leave to visit my friend, the peak of ‘Trippy Highs’ mountains.”
Quazorth bent down, still overwhelmed to find himself physically prime, and picked up his smal mungie friend. As they started their ascent the fields let out a deafening applause of adulation for their much adored living idol.
Zarjaz, from on top of Quazorth’s shoulder, noticed that his hero had not changed in stature at all, even after years of not moving expet to eat, piss or shite. How was this possible? He had not changed since before the moss had become near flesh or fur to the man. Even after all the elements had grown right into him, his body and muscle size had not changed in the slightest. Besided a spot of moss here or there still clinging to his hero, he had the body of a young Cimerian or at least one that was still in its absolute prime. Zarjaz was impressed, what impressed him more was the new fire in Quzaorth’s eyes. A more pumped-up Quzorth than Zarjaz had ever seen.
“These mountains have changed since last I climbed them, they have been restless and shifted!” Quazorth exclaimed out loud more to himself than Zarjaz. Zarjaz himself had set up camp in a pocket of the bleeters hide that Quazorth wore around his shoulders. Quazorth wore his trusty shark skin boots, as always the only things to touch his feet in decades besides rot. His lower half was garbed in grütow, a tough leather like substance that is made from the plant grütonimium, a rather strange plant that spews forth sheets of grütoe before quickly and mysteriously dying. But… all this is irrelevant simply because Quazorth was at one with the elements, he felt no cold. He was hard! Zarjaz was an altogether different species and cold was an ever present danger to him! Within the hour our adverurers had made it past the half way mark.
“My word… We’ve made some time here Quazorth!” said Zarjaz.
“Now watch how fast we take the rest of yon ‘Trippy High’!” said Quazorth.
No sooner than it would take to break a man’s knee, a shrill scream rose over the peaks of ol’ ‘Trippy High’! A murder of Quogglians hooned down the mountain to wards our heroes.
“Quogglians!!” screamed Zarjaz.
Quogglians were medium sized, rather translucent flying mantarays who always hunted in packs with only the bodies of those who dared climb ‘Trippy High’ as their yearly sustanence. Quazorth steeled himself and let forth an extremely awe inpiring battle cry!
”Lo, Yon Beasts come try my ‘Crazy Rage’ on for size!”
The ‘Crazy Rage’ was a unique mind-set that only Quazorth could dispense. It began!
Taking a nearby boulder, Quazorth launched it at the closest Quogglin, demolishing its near see-through body in one mighty mid-air mashing. Zarjaz cringed and hid further inside Quazorth’s coat. The death of the murderer’s leader Quogglin was not enough to deter the rest of the pack from their seemingly soon to be bountiful winter meal. Too bad for them!
The rest of the pack, Quazorth counted five, continued to shriek and swoop towards the brazen hero until….
“What dark majicks are these?” Queried Quazorth.
“You shall never stop the harvest, Warrior protector of veggies,” said the Stone Giant in a voice as cold as untouched glaciers, “I am ‘Nezuara the Stone Idol of Forgotten Cheese Dips.”
“Soo this is your title Demon,” screamed Quazorth, “well the time for niceties is through and now you hear my name – it is ‘Quazorth’ and that’s the last name you’ll ever hear!!”
The two living monoliths readied themselves for war.
Origin
Seeds
Native to India, it has been cultivated since ancient times and is now widely planted in China
and many other countries.
Uses
In China, and nowadays in USA, mung beans are sprouted for consumption as seedlings, sold in
markets as vegetables when they are four days old.
The green seeded varieties are eaten boiled in the form of a gruel, or used as a substitute for
Glycine in making ketchups (tomato sauce). The seed coats of mature seeds are first removed and
then ground into flour. The golden seeded varieties are generally used for fodder.
*WOW* aren't you glad you read that? I know I'm smarter for having read it.
Mmmmm interesting... now let me out!
©mungbean 1999-2005