![[quote]](http://static.biggie.co.nz/img/dis/message_quote.png "Quote message")
Once upon a time in a land not so far away, there was a mean king. His name was King Presha. He was a mean and nasty ruler who flew into fits of rage, taking the credit for everything even though he was often overseas hobnobbing with more powerful rulers - For his brother, the good Prince Sonic, was too fat and lazy to do anything about it. The Prince Riddle had become a mysterious figure, while the prince Aaron fled from his lands when his castle did burn to the ground. But he did happen upon two mysterious knaves of the Order of Kog who became known throughout Auckland for their courageous deeds, to which he set a task . . .
The Grand Duke Pots did rule over a troubled kingdom of rabble rousers and no-gooders, who favoured the King Presha through the influences of a strange force exerted over them by the rebellious Count Pylonz, known only as Fabel. The Grand Duke Pots did take counsel from the knights of Kog, who told him of great forces that were gathering in far away places. For the great kingdom of Metalheadz had been ravaged, deserted by the powerful wizards of Virus and betrayed by Emperor Goldie's favourite son - who would sell his soul to the genie Hatiras in exchange for the ultimate anthem . . . But for now the dark armies of the four horsemen of BC had covered the land.
But the dastardly King Presha continued to rule his kingdom with an iron fist from the great palace of the Fu, and the DJs of his court grew restless, eager for the new generation to take control. They did plot and scheme with the the Crown Prince Nick D, who the people loved, but who also dreamed of glory and fame. Slowly, news of the knights Matt the bearded and Evan the balding and the Grand Duke Pots filtered back from London, the greatest city in the world, tales of great deeds, and daring do in uncertain times. For while the mad prophets Timmy and Jason spoke in the towns of the last days of Drum'n Bass, drought had turned the once rolling green pastures of BPM into dust.
But the glorious lords of Concorde Dawn and Bulletproof did return, charging forward on their steeds Morning Light and Scorched Earth (which had special powers granted by one of the great wizards of Virus). And the devious King Presha did hail their return, granting them great accolades and salutations, offering them pride of place at the Fu, and gaily he did drop "LK" in his rapture. But the Crown Prince Nick D was distraught - had the gallant warriors of Concorde Dawn and Bulletproof not returned to lead the revolt against the royal house of Subtronix and the demented King Presha who'd dropped "hot in here" sans bootleg in the royal chambers of Fu? The young DJs and Producers of the court were wild with rage.
"When shalt we play the Fu?" The young DJ's did clamour.
"And when wouldest thou have us playlisted upon the B-Net?" The young producers demanded of the young prince Nick D, as he languished in the palace of the Beat Merchants under the King's watchful eye.
"It is not over yet, Geoff" The King's Mentor, the sinister Doctor told him.
"I will play a six hour set in honour of your fine kingdom. Let the impetuous youngsters play alongside me, and let them have their moment . . .
For then you shall return with a weekly $5 night . . . and crush them all! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
. . . . . .
Will the clever young prince Nick D grow impatient, awaiting the throne of Fu? Will the young underground DJ's topple the rule of the evil King Presha and take hold of the decks of Fu? Which way will the allegiances of the brave warriors of Concorde Dawn sway? Will there be tension between the brothers Matt and Evan? And what of the mysterious Count Pylonz, the sleeping giant Sonic, and the nomadic wizard Optiv who roams the land . . . ?
- Watch as the House genie ressurects the fallen warrior Peshay and, aided by the brave Hospitalliers and the druids of Mist, lays seige to the BC empire! Can Emperor Andy enforce the peace?
More in the next episode of:
A NZD'nB fabel, I mean fairytale, story kinda thing . . .
