How to Distract a Grue: A Cumulative History of Zork
Typed by Antonius Hwarf

Throughout our long and tumultuous history, the more adventurous people of Zork- those daring enough to go wandering into the dark and uncharted regions of our realm, have been burdened by a constant danger. That being the irrepressible threat posed by a ravenously predatory called the grue. Dwelling exclusively in the darkest of darkness, no one has ever actually seen a grue. But judging by the extreme dearth of brave and adventurous souls in our land, it is obvious that their menace has taken its toll on the populace.

Since they were first discovered, many have sought ways to keep grues at bay. The Frobozz Magic Company created a spray-on substance called Froboz Magic Grue Repellent. This managed to do the job well enough, albeit for a matter of about thirty seconds. But Adventurers needed something that would last through an entire day.

It was later declared by the Surgeon General of Greater Borphee, that the best way to avoid being eaten by a grue was to simply abstain from wandering into the darkest of dark places. But if one felt the undying urge to do so, they should make every attempt to bring some light-bearing object with them for protection, such as a lantern. Many Adventurers, however, still wouldn’t listen.

In the hopes of finding a new way to keep from being eaten by a grue that will satisfy those who refuse to carry lanterns, I am submitting this very work. It has come to my attention that in the many attempts to cheat death while in the clutches of a grue, no one has ever tried distracting it with a nice, long, potentially sleep-inducing story. In my search for an adequately dreary topic, I have chosen to write about the history of our world, from its earliest beginnings to the present day. (1)

So if you do choose to go adventuring, and you find yourself in the clutches of a grue, seconds from being eaten; try pulling out this text and reading it. (2) And please let me know how it turns out.

Note: In the above circumstance, it would probably be a good idea to skip this introduction.

THE COCONUT AND THE BROGMOID DEBATE

Brogmoid or Coconut? Coconut or Brogmoid? The debate has raged on now for ages. Is the world of Zork perched on the shoulders of a giant Brogmoid, as two major episodes in Zork’s history contend, or are we in fact clinging to the surface of a massive coconut that floats on an elliptical course around an even more massive watermelon? Differing views on the issue have polarized once unified and respected guilds, its theological and scientific implications have rocked our religious institutions and threaten to lay waste to centuries of research. Many a ponderous philosopher has fueled the fire with augmentative views. Even attempts at connecting the two beliefs have only worsened the situation. It is a fundamental question and, unfortunately, a necessary starting point for a cumulative history. What is the nature of the canvas upon which we have been rendered?

This is a dangerous topic to discuss in any literary work, as proponents for both sides of the debate are currently attempting to erase all texts that endorse the other side’s theory. The slightest biased towards one side could lead to the permanent suppression of this entire volume. It is for that reason that I will make only passing references to this extremely relevant, yet equally volatile issue.

GEOGRAPHY

The world of Zork is divided into three major land masses-the Westlands, the Eastlands, and the island of Antharia-each separated by the body of water known as the Great Sea. The Westlands and the Eastlands are on opposite sides of the sea, with Antharia lying roughly halfway between these two continents.

The geography of Zork is well-defined, with the exception of two great mysteries that have been used, alternately, to perpetrate both the Coconut and Brogmoid theories. What lies west of the Westlands? And What lies east of the Eastlands? Both continents are bordered on their outermost regions by treacherous mountain ranges. Expeditions have been launched, attempting to cross both sides, but none of these parties have ever been heard from again.

The coconut zealots claim that the two mountain ranges are the same, and that crossing one side will lead directly to the other continent, The brogmoid fundamentalists insist that these are the edges of the world, and that beyond them lie a great void of nothingness.

ANCIENT CIVILIZATIONS

The realm of Zork is littered, as any self respecting civilization should be, with an assortment of mysterious and ancient predecessors whose origins date back to long before the reign of Entharion. Their various remnants can be seen in the landscape, language, and lore of Quendor.

BORPHEE AND PHEEBOR

The Borphee province in the Westlands contains the oldest surviving city in the entire realm of Quendor. Its breathtaking marble temples and magnificent coliseums constructed out of Dornbeast tusks have been declared the foundation of modern society. In fact, all known clusters of modern civilization can be traced back to this culture. But its prominence did not come undisputed.

The city was built at the end of the great Borphee river, which runs across the Westland region and empties into the Great Sea. In the early days of Borphee, the river indirectly provided all the city’s resources, and is still treated with almost godlike reverence by the Borpheans. They were an autonomous people, free from interest or concern about the outside world.

On the other end of the Westlands, at the point where the various tributaries flow together to form the beginning of the river, there existed a twin city called Pheebor which, incidentally, regarded the river with much the same reverence. At the time, both cities had called the magnificent waterway the One River. But in a tragic fit of self-importance, occurring around 400 B.E. (Before Entharion), the two groups simultaneously decided to rename the river after their own city. Both cities were, of course, deeply offended by the other’s selfishness and a bloody battle ensued.

The two forces met in the southern plains of Egreth, roughly halfway between the two cities. The Pheeborians, led by the irreversible yet tremendously incapable, Prince Foo, stood on the northern side of the deep ravine that contained the One River. The Borpheans, led by the uncommonly clever General Horteus Shplee, took their place on the southern side. The general was a shrewd war strategist, well aware of his subtle tactical advantage. The two armies charged, swords drawn. But the excitement of the moment was quickly dowsed when both sides reached the river and were forced to dive in and paddle awkwardly towards each other. Instead of meeting in the glorious clash of steel that all had hoped for, it appeared more like a graceless collision of drowning fools. The armies splashed frantically at each other, hardly noticing the effect of the river’s strong current. An effect that General Shplee had been counting on.

The cluster of bobbing heads drifted rapidly downstream towards Borphee, where a battalion of Shplee’s men waited with a stockade of granite rocks. As the soldiers floated by, the battalion tossed the rocks at the Pheeborian army, apparently enjoying themselves enormously in the process and not worrying too much about the many Borphean soldiers that were mixed in with the bunch. This tactic proved quite successful, and is credited with bringing a very quick end to what would have likely ended up being a long and pointless war. Prince Foo was promptly beheaded by one of the more zealous (and buoyant) Borphean knights. And the city of Pheebor fell a few days later.

So thorough was the Borphean army’s gleeful ransacking of Pheebor, that the entire body of knowledge accumulated by this once great people was completely wiped out.

All that was left after one night of devastation was a few scattered ruins and a number of unanswered questions. Hence, the people of Pheebor are still regarded with a sense of curious wonder today.

THE MITHICAN TRIBES

It has been quietly acknowledged by some of the more progressive enchanters that the linguistical root of Magic, commonly known as the Old Tongue, is the same language once used by the Mithican tribes. This was quite a scandalous assertion when it first surfaced, during the early Ninth Century. Many conservative guild members felt that it was blasphemous to attribute such credit to a group of people who had been perceived as savage and culturally inconsequential up to that point. The Mithicans lived in primitive huts, wore vulgar loincloths, and derived entertainment from sitting around a bonfire, yelling and hollering at the sky. They couldn’t possibly have developed such an enlightened understanding of the universe.. But the words of the renowned historian, Ozmar, in 821 GUE, held sway. “The ancients of our kind were nearer to knowing the truth about Science than those who we call Scientists today.”

Before the guild of anthropologists made their discovery, the Mithican dialect was thought to have been survived only by the title of the game, Snarfem, a common source of entertainment along the streets of major cities. All that was known about this mysterious group was that they lived apart from the relatively metropolitan areas of Borphee and Pheebor, along the outskirts of the Miznia forest, and had been there since long before either city’s inhabitants had ascended beyond incessant grunting and formed the first semblance of society.

It is now known, however, that the seemingly awkward, runic words used by sorcerers and enchanters to invoke magic spells during the age of thaumaturgy are the same words that were incorporated into every day Mithican life. Magic flowed through the Mithican people with amazing intensity. Virtually everything that was said by a tribesperson had the accidental side effect of invoking some potentially dangerous spell. This is thought to have caused many problems for the Mithicans, and is probably the reason for their mysterious disappearance around the time of 800 B.E. It is also an excellent demonstration of the perils inherent in Magic usage that, were it not for the whole Magic debacle of 966 GUE and the guiding hand of the Grand Inquisitor, would have most likely destroyed our entire society.

Centuries after their disappearance, the two main villages of the Mithican tribes were found and utilized by settlers who left Borphee in search of more stuff. They named the two villages Gurth and Mithicus. Since then, the two provinces have become a haven for artisans, and the Fields of Frotzen, located within Gurth, are renowned for their incredible agricultural capacity, Seeds that are planted within the fields often ripen within days. This attribute has made it the second most abundant agricultural region in the Westlands.

THE EASTLANDS

As all this was happening, life in the Eastlands remained quite sedate. The scattered enclaves of humanoids who were indigenous to the continent are referred to in all historical accounts as simply, “the natives,” and were said to be quite easy going people. Hence, they were doomed from the moment Duncanthrax’s ships hit the shore, but we’ll get to that later.

Other less sentient beings who occupied the land, such as trolls and gnomes, were kept alive during the Duncanthrax Conquests both for manual labor and their inherent novelty.

THE MASHED POTATO WARS

In the ensuing vanity following Pheebor’s defeat in 400 B.E., the Borpheans became rather excited about the notion of conquering new lands. After countless humbly uninquisitive generations, the population had flourished and the people were suddenly curious about what else lay beyond their borders. The first wave of settlers discovered the remnants of Gurth and Mithica. And a short time later, a second expedition made an incredible discovery that would permanently change both the economic and culinary structure of the Westlands.

The head of the expedition, a courageous, stoic and highly admired noble named Sir Thaddeus Galepath, described their finding in his journal. “Neither I, nor any of the men had believed a word of the scout’s barely coherent mutterings. But his dumbfounded elation was the field of mushy white substance. In blatant, but understandable, disregard for my orders, the men dropped their belongings and charged down the hill. I quickly gathered my senses and followed behind them. After testing the consistency of the substance with our hands, we threw caution to the wind and dove headlong into what we soon discovered to be the most delicious mashed potatoes that any of us have ever tasted.”

When news (and abundant samples) of this phenomena were sent to Borphee, the ruler of the burgeoning empire, a man named Mareilon, ordered that a village be established immediately to harvest the mashed potatoes and send regular shipments back to Borphee in lieu of any monetary taxation, and that village be named in his honor. Upon receiving these orders, Sir Galepath realized that there must be some kind of miscommunication, as he had already built an encampment which his men had fondly named, Galepath. It was also his understanding that Galepath would be a separate city, free from any kind of taxation and interacting with the other cities by way of equally balanced trade of goods. The dialogue between the two men quickly turned ugly and became steadily worse as it approached what seemed to be an inevitable war.

Fearing a repeat of the Pheebor massacre, Galepath’s advisors convinced him to invite Mareilon to a summit, where they would put their egos aside and work out their problems. Needless to say, this did not work. But surprisingly, it was not a complete disaster. Mareilon returned to Borphee, absorbed by this development, and quickly assembled another expedition that would colonize the region just south of Galepath. This new city would fall directly under Mareilon’s reign, as it was overseen by him, personally.

The competition between the cities of Galepath and Mareilon escalated over the years, eventually outlasting both men’s lives. Though the mashed potato fields were virtually boundless, spiteful citizens would often harvest from the other city’s fields. Despite the valiant attempt to resolve the issue early on, war eventually did break out. But by this time, the new ruler of Borphee had wisely detached himself from the feud, thereby drastically lowering the stakes.

The cities of Galepath and Mareilon fought for centuries. And as they did so, both sides slowly lost touch with why they were fighting to begin with. They were driven by self-perpetuating and meaningless anger that only seemed to grow stronger after losing its foundation. The cities grew in equal proportion to their citizens’ disdain of the enemy, until both lands surpassed even Borphee in size.

“WHY FIGHT?”

When the year 0 GUE finally came around, the people of Zork felt fairly certain that something big was about to happen. This assumption turned out to be true, as it has since become known as the year that a young man named Entharion emerged from Egreth Forest and built himself a tiny hut on the beach between Galepath and Mareilon.

Stunned by the presence of their new neighbor, soldiers from both sides approached the hut. They took turns interrogating Entharion. The Galepathians would poke his left shoulder with their spears and ask him where he came from, then before he could answer, the Mareilonians would poke his right shoulder and demand to know who had sent him. This went on for some time, until Entharion, instead of answering any of the questions, inquired about the apparent hostility between the two groups of soldiers. One of the dozen or so men crammed inside the tiny hut explained that they had been in a war for hundreds of years, noting, however, that it was none of his business and that he better get to answering their questions right away. Disobeying this order, Entharion again asked a question. “Why Fight?”

From that day forth, the modest, unassuming man who emerged from the woods was known as Entharion the Wise. With a perfectly naïve question, Entharion brought peace to a wartorn land and began a dynasty that reigned over the entire realm and would continue to hold the throne for over 600 years.

It was a glorious time. The new kingdom was named Quendor, for no particular reason, and Entharion’s castle was erected between the cities he’d united, on the former site of his hut. This region was named Largoneth, also for no particular reason.

THE ENTHARION DYNASTY

The rule of Entharion fostered a period of peaceful resolve from the seemingly endless strife that had preceded it. With the concerns that accompany constant warfare thrown aside, people in all the cities of Quendor were able to concentrate on more academic subjects. There was a sudden curiosity about the nature of the world. The literary works that were produced during this period mark the very beginnings of what later became known as Thaumaturgy; the experimental study of applied magic.

Entharion married Queen Lynpo, a direct descendant of Galepath, and fathered one son before his magnificent reign ended in 41 GUE. (4) He was succeeded by his son, Mysterion the Brave, of whom little is known other than his general bravery. Equally little is known about his successor, Zylon the Aged, who held the throne for a staggering 344 years before conceding to the seemingly unspoken guidelines regarding human longevity.

This period of fairly uneventful reigns continued throughout the Entharion Dynasty. It was a period of remarkable social dullness. A few scattered events, such as the Zucchini Wars, galvanized the public interest, but these spasms of misdirected strife were predominantly unsuccessful and invariably short lived.

THE EMPIRICAL AGE

As political matters remained stagnant, however, academic institutions were advancing in leaps and bounds. Many scholars felt that they had finally begun to achieve some understanding of an underlying order in the seemingly chaotic world. This period of enlightenment is now referred to as the Empirical Age, and it was during this time that many important scientific discoveries and technological innovations were made.

Astronomers began meticulously analyzing the motion of celestial bodies, physicists made stunning assertions about the apparent tendency of all things to “gravitate” towards the ground and cartographers insisted that their geographical surveys simply didn’t add up under the assumption that Zork lay on a flat surface. All these things combined to give rise to the Giant Coconut theory, which enjoyed uncontested dominance in all academic circles up until the late Fourth Century. These stirring events were quickly answering the great mysteries of the ages that had baffled mankind.

This would seem to have been a fascinating era to be alive, but alas, it was still pretty dull. Perhaps it was this very dullness which prompted two of the most important events in Zork’s history.

YORUK CROSSES THE SEA

Born in 353, towards the end of Zylon’s mercilessly boring rule, Yoruk was a perfectly obscure mashed potato merchant from Galepath. But even at a young age, it was clear that he was not cut out for the work. In the hackneyed lifestyle of a potato merchant, there was little use for Yoruk’s keen ability to reason and deduce. He grew tired of his dreary, secure life, and spent most of his day in a catatonic stupor. “This can’t be it!” were the last words anyone heard him say before he stormed out of Galepath’s mashed potato district, flailing his arms wildly.

Yoruk fled to the shore and stared out at the Great Sea. It was an endless expanse whose boundaries had never been explored. What lay beyond the Great Sea? It seemed, to him, the only great mystery in the world worth solving.

Yoruk began building himself a raft. He reasoned that if he tied a few pieces of wood together and held a large bedsheet up with a stick, the wind would carry him out to sea. He wasn’t sure how he would bring himself back, but he reasoned that if he couldn’t find anything of interest beyond the horizon, he wouldn’t have much interest in returning home anyway. He went home for just long enough to grab a saw, a bedsheet and a sack filled with as much mashed potatoes as he could carry, then headed into the forest to chop down a tree.

In 380 GUE, Yoruk pushed his raft out to sea. Two days later, his raft snapped and sank, spelling certain death for its aquatically-uninclined passenger. But as luck would have it, Yoruk did not die. As he sank into the infinite depths, his hand latched onto a pliant, fleshy growth on the side of some larger body that was cruising by beneath the surface. Yoruk held on for dear life as the creature darted through the water, frequently rising to the surface and allowing Yoruk a chance to breathe. This went on for days, and through it all, Yoruk maintained his grip on the creature, but was never able to open his eyes and see what it was that he was riding.

Yoruk finally lost his grip and his consciousness before reaching any sign of land. But when he awoke after an indeterminate slumber, he was lying safely on an unknown shore. He had crossed the Great Sea and arrived in the Eastlands. And in his hand he found a shard of an ivory-like substance that seemed to have broken off of some giant tooth. It was exquisitely smooth, as if it had been carved by hand in the shape of a dagger. He kept it, reasoning that it might be a useful thing to have.

BEYOND THE ENDLESS EXPANSE

Standing on the shore of the Eastlands, looking out at the water, Yoruk was quite pleased with himself. He had crossed the infinite sea. He had stretched the edge of his world by an incredible distance and answered an ancient question. But still, he was not content. There were still many more questions that needed answering. The scientists of Galepath had made bold attempts at defining the world of Zork, but none were to Yoruk’s satisfaction. For example, if the world was indeed clinging to the surface of a giant coconut, why did the water of the Great Sea not fall off the side? (5) And if diseases were truly caused by so called ‘germs’ on his body, why did they not drown when he bathed? (6) Certainly, there was much more knowledge to be acquired.

Yoruk found a small, damp cave beside a mountain in the region just south of what is now called Port Foozle, and made it his home. During the day, he wandered the realm, pondering these questions as he hunted for food with the help of his trusty dagger. At night he slept safely in his cave.

One evening, just before going to bed, Yoruk heard a visitor enter his cave. He quickly doused his fire and crept into a corner. He watched the visitor step closer, and as it drew near, he was able to make out a faint silhouette. The visitor was of average height and build, but it seemed to have two sharp horns protruding from its forehead, and Yoruk felt quite certain he set of enormous, featherless wings attached to the visitor’s back. Yoruk soon realized he was sharing his cave with a daemon. Fortunately it seemed to have no knowledge of his presence. The daemon passed right by him and continued deeper into the cave, faintly lighting the way with the reddish glow it emitted from its eyes.

YORUK’S DESCENT INTO THE UNDERWORLD

As he crouched in his corner, Yoruk reasoned that the cave must be an entranceway into Hades, and if he quietly followed the daemon, he might be able to gain access into the netherworld. He also reasoned that the Devil, being the Devil, would probably keep less exclusive company than the all-powerful Implementors, and would therefore be a pretty good source for the knowledge that he sought.

He followed the Daemon as it crept through the dark caves, gradually descending deeper beneath the surface world. Yoruk always kept a fair distance behind it and was careful not to make any jarring noises that might alert the daemon to his presence. As they descended, Yoruk was led through breathtaking caverns, gorges and canyons. They passed areas that were teeming with life of a strange and magical sort. But Yoruk could only pay quick notice to these things, because the daemon kept a swift pace.

As they descended further, Yoruk noticed that the walls were gaining a reddish hue, and the heat was reaching a somewhat unbearable level. But he pressed on, driven by curiosity. After several days of walking, the daemon finally reached the gates of Hades, which stood directly behind a large ring of fire, and directly in front of an enormous, fire-snarling, three-headed serpent-beast known as the Great Daemon of the Threshold. The lesser daemon reached into the sack it carried and pulled out a large shield. It lifted the shield and leapt through the ring of fire, then through the gates and past the enormous, fire-snarling, three-headed serpent-beast known as the Great Daemon of the Threshold.

Yoruk was astonished by this feat. Knowing full-well that it was beyond the meager skills that he had acquired as a mashed potato merchant to leap through a ring of fire, he simply stood in awe. As he did so, an assortment of ghouls, monsters and other lesser daemons circled around him. In a dazed stupor, Yoruk didn’t notice that they were closing in on him. He didn’t notice their presence at all, for that matter. It wasn’t until the last moment, just before they began gnawing on his head, that he realized he’d been spotted.

He swung his arms in all directions, inadvertently poking a giant hellhound in the eye and, in the process, releasing its vice-like grip on his cranium. He then blindly reached out and grabbed one of the lesser daemons’ shields from its hands. After plowing through an assortment of drooling zombies with his shield raised, he leapt through the ring of fire, then through the gates of Hades and almost made it past the enormous, fire-snarling, three-headed serpent-beast known as the Great Daemon of the Threshold.

When Yoruk came to his senses, he looked up and realized that the Great Daemon of the Threshold, anticipating his arrival, had stepped into his path and blocked him with its tremendous stomach. He lay on the steaming hot ground, at the Great Daemon of the Threshold’s feet. (7) The Great Daemon laughed as Yoruk scrambled to his feet, (8) and it laughed when Yoruk pulled out the shard of a giant tooth that he had found in his hand on the shore of the Eastlands, but it did not laugh when Yoruk swiftly stuck the shard into its tremendous stomach.

The enormous, fire-snarling, three-headed serpent beast known as the Great Daemon of the Threshold flailed wildly for several minutes, partially out of pain and suffering, partially out of shock, and partially because it just enjoyed the melodrama of it all. Regardless, it eventually laid down, thoroughly dead.

HE WHO KNOWS THE WAYS OF DEEP MAGIC

Yoruk had no idea that the Devil had been watching his escapades all along, nor did he know that the devil was actually quite amused. When the Great Daemon finally died, the Devil emerged from the shadows and brought him down to his lair. The two got along splendidly and became very good friends. In time, the Devil imparted his knowledge of all things to Yoruk. This included an extended session on the topic of Deep Magic, one of the three kinds of Magic that flows through the cosmos, and the one that is commonly linked to the dark ways of those who dwell in the underworld.

Years later, Yoruk left Hades and returned to the surface world. Armed with an implicit understanding of the universe and its workings, Yoruk made a far better sailor than before, so he was able to construct a new and much more seaworthy vessel in a very short time. He returned to the shores of Galepath, but instead of marching into the city and gaining instant fame for his knowledge, he built himself a modest cottage in the forests of Egreth where he lived out the rest of his natural life. From 406 to his death in 425, he wrote what is known as The Books of Saint Yoruk. The Books of Saint Yoruk are filled with fascinating revelations, but they are most often cited as the source of the Great Brogmoid theory, one of the great many things he learned under the Devil’s tutelage.

THE SKULL OF YORUK

Legend has it that Yoruk’s adventures continued on well after his death, with h is transcendence to the Ethereal Plains of Atrii, and his strange encounter with the Implementors. They had taken an interest in him after watching his exploits, and brought him to their far away realm as a guest. Surprisingly, Yoruk was none too impressed with them and asked to be returned to Hades. The Implementors were terribly offended and refused to grant him his wish, so Yoruk headed off on his own to find his way back.

Though his spirit is said to still wander, his knowledge was imprinted within his corpse. Thus, the Skull of Saint Yoruk has become one of the most coveted and sought after relics in all the Empire. Its bearer wields the knowledge and power of Deep Magic. The Skull has been in the possession of many celebrated figures throughout history, eventually ending up in the clutches of the second Dungeon Master in 948 GUE, but it disappeared a short time later and was never heard from again.

PILGRIMAGE TO HADES

By the mid-fifth century, the Books of Yoruk had grown quite a following. Those who sought adventure, as Yoruk once had, found it within his words. Those who sought answers, as Yoruk once had, found those as well. And those who sought proof of Yoruk’s claims, as much of Quendor had begun to, built ships to retrace his path. Assuming that they would not be graced with Yoruk’s incredibly good fortune, the crafts would have to be far more seaworthy than his humble raft. A great number of innovators applied the breadth of technology in the realm and, in 454, the largest fleet of ships ever assembled set off on a pilgrimage to the Eastlands.

Most of the ships sank within the first week, and when a sailor on one of the few overcrowded vessels that remained spotted a land mass on the horizon, no one dared to ask if it was the one they were looking for. The currents had brought them to the island of Antharia. While only 959 square bloits (9) in size, the beautiful landscape and near-perfect weather quickly became known as home to the unwitting colonists. Relying heavily on the sea’s bounty, they built a quaintly misanthropic civilization, exhibiting no interest in maintaining contact with the homeland. They left in search of enlightenment and accidentally found paradise instead.

Over the centuries, sporadic attempts by the Quendorians to set foot on Antharian soil prompted them to build a powerful navy that guarded the coast. This thoroughly irritated Thaddium Fzort, the ninth king of the Entharion Dynasty, but like all the other kings of his time, he didn’t want to get his subjects riled and have to start an unnecessary war.

THAUMATURGY: THE STUDY OF INCREDIBLY WEIRD STUFF

After Yoruk’s adventures, the second major development that came out of the irksome Entharion bloodline was the heightened interest in some peculiar and often handy effects that could be gained by uttering strange words, spoken in what was then called the Old Tongue. The subject was formally dubbed Thaumaturgy, and its canonical work was written in 473 GUE by a professor at Galepath University, named Bizboz.

On the Presence of Incredibly Weird Stuff Going On remains the most heavily scrutinized and controversial scientific study ever published. In it, Bizboz claimed to have discovered “for-the-most-part natural rules” that explained the “Weird Stuff” which he and several other deviant researchers had been experimenting with. He claimed to have harnessed a natural energy, called Magic, and used it to create “spells.” The book gave long dissertations on the useful application of spells like nerzo, for balancing checkbooks; umboz, for tedious housecleaning duties; and yumzo, for destroying mongeese.

Though his technique was undeniably fruitful and his research infallible, Bizboz was ostracized by his colleagues and laughed out of Galepath University. His findings blatantly contradicted the teachings of almost every professor at the University. They refused to even waste their time “rationalizing this nonsense.”

Within months, Bizboz was stripped of all he had and reduced to panhandling on the street. His “Weird Stuff” had become nothing more than a label for potions and powders, sold by charlatans, that would supposedly cure the ills of suffering peasants. Tragically, Bizboz committed suicide in 475. He never lived to see his pioneering work embraced by the community that once scorned him. Centuries later, Ozmar would say this of his work: “Science has taught us much and given us new words for old mysteries. But beneath these words are mysteries, and beneath them more mysteries. The pursuit of Magic has given those mysteries meaning and provided for our people great benefits unrealized yet by science… We owe a great debt to Bizboz.”

MEANWHILE, 184 YEARS LATER

The Entharion Dynasty remained stable through several more kings. A total of 13, in all, had held the throne before Zilbo III succeeded Mumbo II in 628. Zilbo was a pleasant, agreeable, well-mannered king. In other words, he was boring beyond the realm of any Quendorian citizen’s tolerance, and on the last day of 659 GUE, they revolted. Led by a power-hungry young zealot named Duncanthrax, the proletariat stormed Castle Largoneth, furious over an alleged shortage of mosquito netting. But in truth, the people were just desperate for a more interesting ruler. Conveniently, Duncanthrax declared himself the new king of Quendor upon beheading Zilbo III.

In his coronation speech, he declared, “I, King Duncanthrax, vow that I will stop at nothing to fulfill my every whim. Every petty longing, every outrageous desire, will be tasked upon my loving kingdom to fulfill. I also vow that my children, and my children’s children will be raised with the very same values.”

The cheering masses were enthralled by his naturally abusive behavior. They finally had a ruler who would keep them on their toes. And that he did.

One of Duncanthrax’s first acts as King was to move the castle from Largoneth to Egreth. The people were pleased by this decree, but they absolutely swooned when he insisted that the job be done without dissassembling a single piece of the castle. On several occasions during the moving process, entire legions of workers were crushed beneath the awkwardly moving mobile palace. Within the first six months of his rule, Duncanthrax the Bellicose, as he became known, had caused more unnecessary deaths than the entire Entharion Dynasty combined.

Upon settling in Egreth, one of Duncanthrax’s first tasks was to start a family. This was something he took very seriously. He announced to his kingdom that he was to be the first king of the Flathead Dynasty. This took the people by surprise, as it was not known to be a part of his title, nor was it at all indicative of the clearly non-flat shape of his head. He declared that from then on, the flatness of ones head was to be directly correlated with their royal stature, and that he sought the most flatheaded woman in the land to become his queen. The call went out across the Westlands and in a very short time, Duncanthrax had found and married a particularly flatheaded and very stunned young lady from Mareilon, named Salestra. They were married immediately, and within the year had their first son. The boy was named Belwit the Flat, and much to Duncanthrax’s pleasure, his head did indeed have a somewhat flat shape to it.

EXPANDING THE EMPIRE

A few years after ascending the throne, Duncanthrax dissatisfied with the size of his empire. The nation of Quendor did span across every inch of the Westlands, but the exploits of Yoruk had yielded two great land masses that had yet to be conquered.

He first set his mind to defeating the Antharian Armada, which had grown quite large in the centuries since the island was first settled. He put his best engineers to the task of creating ships that could overwhelm the Antharians, and by 655 he felt confident that they could pull it off.

The ships were put to the test during the battle of Fort Griffspotter, later that year. Duncanthrax’s fleet closed in on the Antharian shore, but the fort’s long barrel guns kept him at bay. The ships were clearly no match for the Antharian war machine and would have met a quick fate were it not for Duncanthrax’s clever back-up plan. He had secretly sent a ship full of spies in Antharian uniforms to the island nation, several months prior to the invasion. They carefully infiltrated the ranks and took posts within Fort Griffspotter, then at the key moment, they took out the gunners, allowing Duncanthrax to move his ships into firing range. Unaware of this subterfuge, Duncanthrax’s fleet let loose on the Fort upon sinking the opposing battleships. The spies were killed in the shelling along with the remaining Antharian soldiers, and the tactic remained secret long enough for the reputation of the Quendorian Navy’s might to be spread back to the homeland.

By borrowing from Fort Griffspotter’s vast armory and creating manufacturing facilities that mimicked the Antharian’s advanced weapons technology, Duncanthrax’s ground forces were able to hold their ground against the Antharian army’s retaliation. Thus began the bloodiest battle in the history of Zork. Eventually, Duncanthrax’s troops managed to quash every remaining enclave of the Antharian forces, giving them undisputed control of the granola mines as well as the Great Sea.

“ONWARD, TO THE EASTLANDS!”

Still bothered by the alleged existence of the Eastlands, Duncanthrax directed his ships in its direction. They hit shore in 666 and instantly began ransacking whatever shreds of pre-existing civilization they could find. What few armed resistance movements there were didn’t last very long. The strongest militia that the ‘natives’ were able to pull together assembled to Zorbel Pass to face Duncanthrax’s forces.

The natives entrenched themselves at the exit of the narrow path and managed to keep the enemy at bay, taking advantage of the narrow battleground to limit the size of Duncanthrax’s vanguard to only a few men at a time. Duncanthrax responded by ordering the majority of his troops to pull out of the gorge. The natives, thinking they had forced a retreat began a pell-mell pursuit of the remaining forces that led them through the pass and out into the fields beyond. Duncanthrax’s army surrounded them on open ground then swiftly cut through their meager ranks. The remaining portions of the Eastlands were conquered without much difficulty.

While scouring the landscape for signs of where Yoruk began his fabled descent into Hades, Duncanthrax’s soldiers stumbled into an intricate network of caverns and tunnels that spanned across the entire continent. This discovery came at exactly the right time for Duncanthrax, as he had recently become depressed after conquering every territory on the surface of Zork and having nothing left to do. He was inspired by the endless passageways, realizing that by digging even more, he could expand his empire by five- or even tenfold
Work began on the new underground tunnels in 668 GUE, with the creation of the Frobozz Magic Cave Company. The company almost immediately spawned two subsidiaries; the Frobozz Magic Dirt Removal Company and the Frobozz Magic Underground Sewer Installation Company. Within the year, FrobozzCo International was formed as a parent company for the burgeoning subsidiaries. By 743, FrobozzCo International oversaw more than 17,000 subsidiaries. In an eight year span, King Duncanthrax the Bellicose expanded the nation of Quendor across all of Zork. By all accounts, the empire had reached its zenith. At long last, he retired to his castle at Egreth in 670, victorious.

THE UNNATURAL ACTS

Upon returning to his homeland, Duncanthrax found that the “Weird Stuff” of Bizboz’s writings had spread like a cancer during his absence. Many of his subjects had taken to the liberal use of scrolls, potions, and powders for everyday needs. These unskilled sorcerers were inadvertently wreaking havoc on the land. Something had to be done.

In 673, Duncanthrax passed the Unnatural Acts, which put heavy restraints on the unauthorized use of Magic and threatened severe penalties for anyone caught selling “Unnatural or Supernatural substances.” This was to be his last significant act as king. In 688, after a long stretch of relatively non-bellicose activity, Duncanthrax passed away, leaving the throne for his first son, Belwit the Flat.

THE SCIENTIFIC AGE

Belwit’s 13 year reign contained three important events. The increasingly popular card game, Double Fanucci, had its first championship competition in Borphee. The zorkmid, Quendor’s primary form of currency, was minted. And toward the end of Belwit’s short reign came the dawning of the Scientific Age. Serious students from such sacred institutions as Galepath University and Mithicus Province University took up the study of Thaumaturgy in their spare time. Eventually, some of these students achieved high-ranking positions on the faculties of several moss-league colleges, and Bizboz’s long ridiculed work finally gained public acceptance.

Toward the end of the seventh century, the new perception of Magic caused a loosening of the Unnatural Acts. This allowed Magic to be practiced and experimented with by an ordained institution called the Enchanter’s Guild. The first and most famous house of the Enchanter’s Guild was established in the small town of Accardi-By-The-Sea by the renowned thaumaturge, Vilboz.

It was found that the act of casting a spell required three important steps. These were known as Presence, Incantation and Unusual Effect. It was also found that the reason Thaumaturgists were having such trouble casting spells was that they had no reliable way of completing the first step. The problem was first dealt with in 723, with the invention of the Hyperbolic Incantation Generator, better known as the magic wand. It gained enormous respect for the fledgling science which had, up until that point, yielded no marketable products.

With Belwit’s son, Frobwit the Flatter came an even less restrained appreciation for Magic, as well as an even flatter head.

ANOTHER ADVANCEMENT IN THE PRODUCTION OF MAGIC SPELLS

Another advancement in the production of magic spells occurred during the reign of King Mumberthrax the Insignificant. Working in the newly crowned king’s laboratory, a thaumaturge named Davmar discovered a means by which Incantation could be stored on a special presence-imbued paper. These so-called “scrolls” were found, however, to be destroyed during the spells’ Incantation. Nonetheless, scrolls soon replaced the temperamental Hyperbolic Incantation Generator as the primary means of Incantation.

This development brought cheaper, easier, and more reliable spellcasting to the people. However, the fact that scrolls could only be used only once remained a great frustration that prevented many people from even bothering with them.

THE TWELVE FLATHEADS

Mumberthrax the Insignificant fathers the Twelve Flatheads. Dimwit is first, followed by 11 eclectically distinguished siblings: a captain of industry, a military hero, a musical genius, a dauntless banker and financer, an inventor extraordinaire, an artist and scientist, a chronic widow, a poet, a seaman and explorer, a royal architect, and a legendary athlete.

Each played a role in the most romanticized era of Zork’s history, the reign of Lord Dimwit Flathead.

THE INDUSTRIAL AGE

The brief period known as the Industrial age began in 769, just before Dimwit took the throne, with a discovery made by an unrecognized practitioner of the thaumaturgical arts named Berzio. Working for years in his own self-made workshop and often going for days without food, drink, or sleep, Berzio created the means by which the Presence of any of the lesser spells could be transferred from a scroll to a specially imbued paper by use of a simple spell, which he named after his dog, Gnusto. This paper, in turn, held the Presence even after the Incantation had been finished, solving the major problem in spell production. This gave rise to “spell books,” which were capable of holding dozens of spells. Thaumaturgy had yielded its second great money-making product, one that could stand as the foundation for an entire industry.

The Industrial Age also saw the sublimation of formerly disreputable potions and powders that contained magical Presence. Once only sold by peddlers on the street, these items became second only to the spell book in popularity. The first over-the-counter potion was given the name Berzio, in honor of the great Thaumaturge.

LORD DIMWIT FLATHEAD THE EXCESSIVE

In all the years of the empire, through all its eccentrics, no one comes close to matching the inimitable mark made by Lord Dimwit Flathead the Excessive. No ego, no vanity, no exaggerated sense of proportion can compare with the likes of the man who cleared 1400 square bloits of vegetation in the Fublio Valley to make way for a nine-bloit-tall statue of himself.

Dimwit grew up a tad spoiled. He shared the fondness of his great great great great grandfather, King Duncanthrax, for the uncharted territories of the Eastlands and its myriad caves and tunnels. He spent much of his early adulthood vacationing across the sea with 40,000 of his closest friends, and when his father passed away in 770, leaving Dimwit as king, he immediately relocated the capital to the little-known colony of Aragain in the central Eastlands. The small hamlet was replaced with the 8600 square bloit monstrosity known as Castle Flatheadia, which housed over 90% of the empire’s population. He also declared that the empire of Quendor was to be renamed “The Great Underground Empire” in both its above and below ground regions. This was a great relief to the people, as it shed light on the mysterious acronym that followed the year since the reign of Entharion.

A short time later, planning began for Dimwit’s official coronation, an event of such monumental importance that the 18-month festivity took 13 years to prepare, thereby placing it well into the later half of his reign. In fact, the beginning and end of the coronation planning process act as bookends to achievements for which Lord Dimwit is bet known.

LUCREZIA IMPRISONED

Though there has never been an accurate count, it is known that the Flatheadia Dungeon (also known as the Asylum), completed in 771, contained no less than 10,000 occupants at its peak. This is of minor historical note in the context of Dimwit’s other acts of excessiveness, but it is worth mentioning because of a drama that played itself out within the dungeon’s walls.

After all of her eighteen marriages came to grisly ends, with each husband being gruesomely killed in increasingly bizarre accidents, Lucrezia Flathead, the tenth sibling of the Twelve Flatheads, was rumored to be in a miserable emotional state. Fearing her suicide, the uber-widow was imprisoned in the dungeon by Dimwit himself, though it pained him dearly. In search of comforting for her misery, Lucrezia had an insatiable fondness for prison guards. Coincidently, 1800 prison guards were mysteriously poisoned in the years following her imprisonment. But it wasn’t a prison guard for whom she felt her deepest love; it was a fellow inmate, who had been imprisoned for his flagrant overuse of Magic without proper consent by the Enchanter’s Guild.

The two met frequently during Lucrezia’s 15 years in the Flatheadia Dungeon. Surprisingly, the enchanter did not die. It is even rumored that he lived to see Lucrezia give birth to their daughter and make a daring escape soon after, with their child in tow. Beyond this, nothing is known, but speculation abounds as to what happened to the lost Flathead.

THE ENDLESS FIRE OF MAREILON

In 773, the public’s acceptance of magic was set back by a slight mispronunciation and its rather severe consequences. A well-meaning Mareilonian civil servant was apparently attempting to cast a spell called Zemdor (turn original into triplicate), but accidentally spoke the word Zimbor (turn one really big city into lots of tiny, little ashes) instead. After a blazing inferno that lasted 4 weeks, the city was destroyed.

Lord Dimwit’s response was swift and characteristically extreme. In the weeks following the Fire, Dimwit issued 5,521 edicts which had the effect of severely limiting public access to magic. Henceforth, all magic was entrusted to the enchanter’s guilds, which had, by then, opened in most cities and towns.

“MY BEST EXCESSES”

Perhaps the greatest insight into the mind of history’s most memorable and controversial figure can be found written in his own words, in the text of his autobiography, My Best Excesses. Published over the two-year period preceding his death, the original volume is approximated to be over 122,000 pages in length. However, during its first printing, Lord Dimwit frantically pulled roughly half of the pages from the press and had them sealed and buried four bloits underground, directly beneath the future site of his nine-bloit statue. The issue was, needless to say, not to be discussed within the court on punishment of gruesome execution, thus it can only be assumed that Dimwit got cold feet about publishing his more personal thoughts. Destroying such glorious prose as his own was certainly out of the question, so four bloits worth of dirt and sediment seemed the only rational solution.

Due to severe unfeasibility and general lack of interest, the missing text remained buried for over three centuries. But renewed interest in the Flathead Dynasty, sparked by the Grand Inquisitor’s call for a return to Flathead values, generated the funding necessary to carry out the largest excavation ever undertaken. A team of scholars has spent the last seven years analyzing the unabridged work, splitting into groups of ten in order to scrutinize each chapter with the attention it demands, and gathering occasionally to discuss their many findings.

One of the most intriguing discoveries, thus far, has been the chapter in which Dimwit recounts the details of his heretofore unknown bout with the Famathrian Sniffles. In 765 GUE, during one of his extended summer vacations in the Eastlands (before becoming king and transporting the castle permanently), the future king took 6,000 of his closest friends on a camping trip in the forests of Famathria. After two months of “roughing it” in the wilderness, he suddenly developed an unremitting sneeze that forced him to return prematurely.

Dimwit Flathead spent the subsequent weeks strapped to his bed against his will. Though his retelling is quite certain on the matter, it is assumed that this was seen by all as the only possible way of causing himself even greater suffering. He writes of his extreme longing to itch his nose, discussing in great detail the measures he wished to take in order to stop the relentless sensation, which included, among other things, the insertion of a fully grown porcupine up each nostril.

Though Prince Dimwit’s behavior up to that point had always been seen as a bit excessive, history shows that his most stunning feats of overindulgence were spent detailing the suffering he experienced, lying in bed, unable to move his arms in the slightest, much less reach up to and scratch his swollen, red nose.

The guards who stood watch outside his bedroom were made to pay dearly immediately following his recovery. In fact, some authors have suggested that the entire underground empire was made to pay for their collective unwillingness to let him scratch his proboscis.

THE WIZARD OF FROBOZZ

If fate turns as a wheel, then the court magician of Lord Dimwit, the Wizard of Frobozz, represents a low point for the excessive king. To see his beloved Castle Flatheadia transformed into a pile of fudge would be too much for anyone to bear. Lord Dimwit, without giving so much as a written reprimand first, fired the Wizard. And without another thought, he ordered everyone everywhere to help rebuild the monument. Of course, the new castle would be 25 times larger than the previous one because Dimwit wanted it that way.

THE AGE OF GUILDS

With the public outcry that followed the Endless Fire, and Lord Dimwit’s drastic response, the Enchanter’s Guild found itself wielding more power than ever before. Each guild, whose elders comprised the Circle of Enchanters, was empowered to form schools for the training of new enchanters. This official sanctioning of the guilds led to the formation of numerous other chapters, with membership in excess of 2,000 by the year 800. The strength of the Enchanter’s Guild was so great that it managed to outlast the empire’s collapse and continued unchanged until 966. But that’s a long way away.

THE CURSE OF MEGABOZ

Lord Dimwit’s incumbency was a 19 year stretch that, despite being full of surprises, became increasingly tiresome for the tormented commoners. In 789, after struggling to endure his mandated 98% taxation and fund his capricious whims for years, it was rumored that he was pondering an increase to a full 100% before the decade’s end. Accompanied by the recent completion of a nine-bloit high statue and the fact that it cast the entire town of Fublio in shadow, this was the last straw.

But it wasn’t the disgruntled masses that dethroned and killed Dimwit. It was the temper of one particularly skilled wizard by the name of Megaboz. Appearing in the royal banquet hall on the 14th of Mumberbur in an explosion of billowing smoke, Megaboz uttered the historic words “No man, be he peasant or king, crosses Megaboz the magnificent. Dimwit, thy kingship is a mockery of all worldly values! I curse your life! I curse your family! And I curse your empire!” He then disappeared in a fiery explosion. Megaboz’s curse took effect a few minutes later, with Dimwit’s sudden and indisputable expiration, as well as the death of all 11 of Dimwit’s siblings, but the remainder of the curse was delayed by the court magicians for 94 years.

The Flathead kings that followed after Dimwit were a panicky lot, each one trying harder than the last to remove the curse on the land, By the time the twelfth king of the condemned dynasty, Wurb Flathead, took the throne, the dreaded Curse Day was a mere two years away and the empire had already fallen into a completely frantic state over their impending doom. On the 14th of Mumberbur, 883, the empire collapsed. But not without one last valiant attempt at preventing its demise.

THE FIRST DUNGEON MASTER

During the final moments of the empire, a brave commoner came very close to preventing Megaboz from achieving his final goal. By assembling two items from each of the Twelve Flatheads, he came face to face with Megaboz. Ironically, the commoner’s attempt was rewarded by Megaboz himself. Sighting that the realm would need a guardian now that it had been sent into chaos, he dubbed the commoner Dungeon Master, giving him great magical powers, half the riches of the Flathead kingdom, and total dominion over the caverns of the Eastlands.

Following the events of Curse Day, entropy quickly took hold of the surface world. Faced with the fact that Quendor was well past its prime, the once-great cities on both continents became dens of misery and confusion. But through it all, the tunnels and caves of the Eastlands remained stable under the watchful eye of the Dungeon Master. He guarded the many hidden entrances to the underground and allowed the fantastic assortment of mystical creatures within to roam freely. But in 948, he decided to make an exception.

THE LEGEND OF ZORK

The common folk-tale, known simply as the Legend of Zork, tells of an unknown adventurer who gained entrance into the underground through the mythical “White House,” and began exploring the realm. In the process, the adventurer claimed the Twenty Treasures of Zork, defeated the Thief, the Wizard of Frobozz, and eventually met up with the Dungeon Master himself. As it turned out, the Dungeon Master had intentionally allowed the adventurer into his realm and was testing the adventurer’s worthiness to take over the title. The adventurer passed the Dungeon Master’s tests, and was anointed as the second Dungeon Master.

THE ALCHEMICAL DEBACLE

Elsewhere in the Eastlands, trouble was brewing in the form of four distinguished members of Quendorian society who had begun experimenting with the lost science of alchemy to achieve immortality. To carry out their plan, they took the life of a young woman named Alexandria, much to the chagrin of her lover, who happened to be the son of one of the alchemists. As a result of their irresponsible misuse of alchemy’s power, a dark force called the Nemesis was formed. This bitter spirit wandered the Eastlands, manifesting its anger by tormenting the scattered enclaves of society that occupied the regions near the alchemists’ homes. These areas were soon evacuated, and dubbed the Forbidden Lands by the circle of Enchanters.

Footnotes

1. Unfortunately, I have not yet determined a way for adventurers to be able to read this text while standing in the darkest of dark places.

2. It is imperative that you read this text aloud. Otherwise it is certain to have no effect.

3. The languages of Borphee and Pheebor share the same roots. In the original dialect, only three different syllables were used, of which Bor and Phee are two. Common etiquette forbade the same syllable from being used more than once in any word. So the thousands of different expressions came entirely out of the inflection that was used to speak the 15 possible word combinations.

4. It was later discovered that Entharion had a working vocabulary of less than 75 words, and that his famous question was actually one of the most coherent sentences that he ever managed to complete.

5. Yoruk was never one for long winded explinations. So when the Giant Coconut theory was explained to him, he apparently wasn’t paying attention during the part about gravity.

6. This question, as well, has since been deemed silly.

7. It is not actually known if the Great Daemon of the Threshold had feet or, being a serpent-beast, balanced itself on a long, thick tail.

8. It is well documented, however, that Yoruk did indeed have feet.

9. As defined by the Encyclopedia Frobozzica, a bloit is equal to the distance that the king’s favorite pet runs in an hour. This does, of course, change drastically from king to king and slightly from day to day, and is therefore an entirely useless form of measurement for most practical (and all historical) purposes.