In the time before the evil tyrant Halley or even the morally-ambiguous ruler Pelkon, the continent was ruled over by King Beltran out of Jeanvale. He was a good king in most respects. His over-fondness for cheese occasionally caused problems, but we all have a weakness for that delectable dish. For the most part, however, things went well. People were poor, but not dismally so. The masses didn't starve or live in the streets. They had houses and food and water, and no one really minded not having plasma tellies since there weren't any television broadcasters around anyhow. So people went about their lives, rarely complaining about the cheese tax, and the political landscape was quite stable between the minor revolts and riots that every healthy society experiences from time to time.

It was some time during this calm period of history that a group of soldiers were milling about Pikesville. Normally Pikesville was a quiet village of down-to-earth folks who kept to themselves, but as of late they'd been keeping their tax dollars to themselves as well, so a garrison of troops was hanging about to make sure they knew who was King. Of course, they already knew who was king; they just didn't care. But it was hoped the presence of armed military folk would make them care at least enough to give their due to support the king's cheese habit.

These soldiers were having difficulties, however. Two of their pikes were broken and, try as they might, they could not find a man in Pikesville who knew how to repair a pike. The primary industry of the village was the manufacture of toothpicks. Though the guards felt this meant they could just do what they normally do, just on a larger scale, and a pike would be made, but the townsfolk insisted they were very different things. The two groups bickered about this for a while, and then abruptly stopped when the Earth exploded underneath them and they were engulfed in molten lava.

Three days later, a messenger arrived at the palace to inform King Beltran of the event. He was displeased, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he sent a servant to fetch some more cheese and just sat pondering for a while. He was interrupted, however, when a stranger appeared and said to him 'Harken to my words, oh King! I am the geomancer, and if you do not give me all the cheese in your kingdom, I will cause my volcano to explode more villages in your pathetic little kingdom! Every day that I am not receiving shipments of cheese, another village will be destroyed. here's my card. Send the cheese to that address. Farewell! I mean, doom! Doooom!' And with that, the stranger vanished.

'Oh no!' said the king. 'Whoa is me! If he explodes too many villages, morale will decline and we'll have to crush lots of rebellions, which is really bad for the cheese production.'

So the king called up his bravest knight, Sir Kissalot. 'Sir Kissalot,' said the king, 'I hereby order you to find the sorcerer at this address and defeat him! Either that or simply find a way to stop his treacherous volcanoes.' The king handed Sir Kissalot the card and waved him away.

Sir Kissalot looked at the address on the card and saw that it was in the Black Forest north of the castle. So he hopped on his horse and rode northward until he reached the forest. There he met a damsel in distress. 'Help!' she cried. 'I am in distress!'

'Fair maiden! What seems to bed the problem?' inquired the brave knight.

'I've been captured by a dragon,' she informed him with great distress.

'A dragon! Show me to the beast and I shall slay him with my fabulous swordfighting skills!' The brave knight drew his sword and slashed the air a few times for emphasis.

'I can't, he's not here. He went out.'

Sir Kissalot pondered this. 'Couldn't you just, you know, leave, then? I mean, if the dragon isn't around, you could just walk back to your village, could you not?'

'Oh, good idea. Thank you, oh bravest of knights!' She kissed him and then ran off home.

'Well, that was easy,' commented the knight, and he continued into the forest.

The Black Forest was so named because it was black. The outer portions were a dull greyish sort of black like a black pair of jeans, and as you got farther towards the centre it turned a deep black one expects to find in the hearts of people who talk in the theatre. Sir Kissalot had only just reached the second shade of black when he came across a confused young lady wandering about. 'Oh, sir knight! I am lost. Can you tell me the way out of these woods?'

'Certainly,' he replied. 'The woods get blacker as you go farther in. Simply head towards the lighter bits and you'll reach the edge. That way.' He pointed back the way he'd come.

'Thank you,' said the woman, curtsying. She kissed him and then ran off towards the less black black. Sir Kissalot shrugged and continued on his journey.

After a few more hours, he reached his destination. There he found a ginormous pit and a sign saying 'Toss cheese down the pit.' He looked around a bit but could find no one to negotiate the termination of the village terminating, so he thought to himself, 'I'll just have to find a way to stop the volcanoes directly!' and he turned right around and walked out of the forest.