Mosaque And “The Nameless King”

There was no higher calling than to procreate the one and only Sasquatch King; prophesized to unite the divided tribe. The foretold prophecy was delivered by twins as they traversed the globe in search of any fading Sasquatch warriors so as to inform them of the king to come before crossing over. Bickering amongst one another as to whom shall birth the child; the solution lied was an Abominable contest.
Every male in the Americas worth their weight in confidence came forth. Many fell wounded, others fled and the odd few perished but in the end there prevailed a single candidate, a thunderous survivor, mighty and stout. The to-be-king’s father was as thick-skinned and burly as they came.
The females, hailing primarily from the tallest trees the Belarusian forests had to offer, raced from the Colorado Rockies to the highest peak Peru was able to provide. They too became wounded, fell victim to fatigue and dehydration and one poor Abominable female froze to death just a few feet from the peak. The winners’ worthiness was undeniable. The strongest male and fastest female the Sasquatch tribe possessed celebrated in unity, consummating a child. One that would lead their people were it a male and serve as said male’s closest adviser were it not. Birthed an only child, the boy’s destiny was to become the one and only Sasquatch king. Said not only to rule but unite the broken pieces of a once prosperous tribe, the king would require a great deal of teaching and copious training but no name.

In lieu of a birth-name The Sasquatch King wore the branding of a brown crown upon his collarbone for all to see. Taught from birth by his mother to communicate, the Sasquatches sought to thrive on account of their king’s advanced social and verbal skills. Seeking to pool their tribe’s vast mineral resources would require careful deliberation, as the only true leg up the Sasquatches had over the other tribes was their profound resourcefulness and willingness to collaborate. The Yowies tougher, the Yetis more resilient, and the Mapinguari both mysterious and mystical, it needed not be squandered.
Betting big on the prophecy and the promise of a hierarchy, the Sasquatches searched far and wide for the most adept teachers. Quickly mastering grunts, grumbles, gestures and syllables, The Sasquatch King exceeded his mother’s teachings as the tribe searched out and sourced the young and eager Mosaque: the most articulate female in the faction. At several hundred thousand years old, Mosaque was, to the tribe, still a child. The king himself only a mere 90,000 years old, he was to them an infant.

The greatest blacksmith the Sasquatches had ever had by a monumental amount, Ernis served as one of three advisors to the king. The other two were seldom ever present; one served as a European scout and the other a southern communications officer should the Mapinguari send word. At the request of The Sasquatch King’s father, Ernis and his forever scorned orange hammer hibernated. Smelting and re-smelting the same cauldron of gold over and over for what seemed like all of eternity, the blacksmith filtered the cauldron of any and all impurities for over a thousand years. At long last content with the purest material he or any other living being had ever beheld, Ernis forged from the pure gold a pair of bracers that resembled strength and healing.
Soon to be recognized by more than just his broad shoulders, absurdly thick hide, and marked collarbone, the king with no name returned home after sparring to find Ernis standing outside the colossal tree that was his fortress. Equipping the golden bracers with child-like-wonder, the king, exhausted from sparring, challenged Ernis to a duel. Delighted, Ernis equipped the scorching hammer said to have fallen from the skies, and the two danced like ghostly silhouettes for hours to come, moving like lightning and crashing like thunder. First expressing gratitude, The Sasquatch King went on to articulate how incredibly light and nimble the bracers were for the punch they somehow packed. Pleased with himself, Ernis grinned.

Mosaque found communicating with the other Sasquatches to be, although purposeful, lacking to say the least. Unimpressed at first, as Mosaque further educated the young king she found his communicative skills to be both vast and malleable. Soon able to share not just meaning but experiences, thoughts, and feelings, the two progressed steadily until stumbling across new ground altogether. Learning together how best to make one another smile and laugh, the twosome fell into a world of their own: their bond undeniable. It wasn’t long before the young king began to feel something most unusual towards his favorite teacher. Something profound that could not be expressed through language alone.
Unable at first to put his claw on what exactly it was he felt — one evening while wandering through the forest alone, it dawned on him. Conversing with others was fruitful and at times enjoyable but conversing with her was more than fruitful. It was nectar. Satisfying and sweet. The unnamed king’s mother and father, carrying what felt like the weight of the world upon their shoulders, grew concerned. Fearful that their son would grow up to be someone other than the prophesized king (as it had been specifically foretold that The Sasquatch King was destined for solitude) both parents did their best to wedge a gap between the two, but Mosaque was too clever. Caring very little for tradition while mocking the rite of passage and undermining most every teaching and/or teacher the king experienced with satire and sass, Mosaque remained the center of the young king’s affection.

An active volcano erupted over the Pacific just as Ernis had predicted it would. Smoke and lava poured from tiny isles in the center of the sea. Its inhabitants fleeing, the Yowies, ruthless and unruly, came in droves. Concentrated in numbers and led by, if you could call it leading, three of the vilest characters imaginable. They came, saw and conquered as much as they could of the Western Coast. They decimated wildlife, desecrated landmarks, and massacred each any and every Sasquatch they came into contact with. Carrying with them neither bounds nor restraint, they acted as harbingers of death and destruction and fought anything and everything they found, including each other.
The Sasquatches, hemorrhaging in numbers, soon congregated beneath ground so as to strategize. Agreeing that their newborn king, capable and courageous though he was, was not required to step foot on the battlefield, his father would in his place lead the assault against the Yowies. Death’s silver lining, any Sasquatch dying in combat was gifted a glimpse of their future king; lonely, isolated, and riddled in victory.

After what could best be described as a thousand-year war, The Yowies at long last retreated into whichever crack in the Earth they came from. Assumed to have returned to what was left of the scorched Pacific Islands, they left in their wake a never-ending string of corpses and their unique stench. The nameless king’s mother, father, European scout, and southern stationed adviser among the string of those visited by the twins before crossing over, The Sasquatch King had only Ernis and Mosaque left. Two of six trusted allies.
The Sasquatches slowly recuperated in numbers as their king convinced his favorite teacher to send word for her female counterparts hidden in the European forests to join them in the Americas. Proving himself in terms of both brawn and brains, The Sasquatch King gained the respect of his tribesmen in the centuries leading to the eventual Yowie retreat and, as such, was formally crowned king. Bestowed upon his head by his peers a thorn-riddled-crown, The Sasquatch King had never felt so alone. Sending a trusted scout to the Himalayan mountains to retrieve for Mosaque a Chinese Hibiscus, the king with no name placed above her ear each new moon a pink and flattering flower, wooing her.

It took most Abominable females close to a hundred years to give birth, sometimes more. Able to confirm what she’d been long suspected, Mosaque placed upon her belly the Sasquatch King’s heavy claws. The excess of warmth his first hint and the sharp kick that followed a dead giveaway, The Sasquatch King both visibly rejoiced and retreated all at once. In the vision delivered to his dying brethren, The Sasquatch King was to be the first, last and only of his bloodline; he was not to have an heir. Hiding Mosaque’s swelling belly from all but Ernis, his most trusted ally, the king with no name instructed Ernis to begin tunneling down into the fortress he called home.
Deeper and deeper they delved into the ancient tree’s nervous system. Seemingly magical, its roots provided more nutrients than assumed; several million years old, it drank from the same tiny stream each day and never once swayed in the wind. Their love deepening with each passing moon, The Sasquatch King kept Mosaque hidden for a hundred years, bringing her berries, fish, flesh, nuts, and roots, until at last her belly ceased to swell and their Abominable heir was born.
To avoid any suspicion, the unnamed king went on living as normal. He fulfilled his duties: sparring daily, erecting outposts, and widening the tribe’s defenses as they recuperated numbers and confidence. The mightiest warriors the tribe had to offer no longer able to provide the king with a fair fight, the unnamed king, matched only by Ernis whose reflexes were that of lightning, fought two or three warriors at a time. Wielding a hammer capable of both forging and killing, Ernis was a warrior whose modesty was deceiving. Anything but a mere adviser, Ernis was a ferocious adversary, a respectable linguist, and a dear friend.

Exhausted and famished, Ernis and the king with no name ventured home after sparring and hunting, each with a buck over their shoulder. Upon entering The Sasquatch King’s fortress, the duo was greeted by a foul and unfamiliar stench. Looking closer, the duo noticed, etched into the ceiling above, the symbol of an arachnid staring down at them. Four javelins whistled through the chamber, two deflected by a scorching hammer, two puncturing the same lung.
Four sets of pale blue eyes, barely visible, stepped from the shadows as the two Sasquatches dropped the bucks, going into shock. Just as much an ambush as it was a ritual, each of the four Yetis embedded into the fortress’ floor a red, symbolic stave. Heart pounding and adrenaline coursing, The Sasquatch King took a deep breath and snapped both javelins protruding his chest with a golden forearm. Approaching like a rolling wave, the Yetis synchronized their advance upon the duo, seeking to execute the two where they stood. Cautious not to leave the slightest opening, they chained their attacks into one another to prevent even a hint of retaliation.

Dragging the hammer out of the Yeti’s chin, Ernis relieved him of his lower jaw, and pulling him close created a window for his king. Spinning as he swung, The Sasquatch King smashed his golden forearm forcefully into the space that once consisted of a mouth. Capitalizing on the synchronicity required to kill one of them, the remaining three Yetis managed a third javelin into the unnamed king’s torso while simultaneously slipping a dagger into Ernis eye socket. Removing the dagger and advancing, Ernis consciously created another opening for his king to strike, more than willing to sacrifice his life. At the cost of a claw or so and an ear, Ernis, for the briefest of intervals, caught one of the Yeti’s hands.
Falling backwards with the Yeti intact, they fumbled on the fortress floor. The king without a name, struggling to breath, promptly shattered the point where the brain meets the spine. Instantly lifeless, Ernis rolled the Yeti corpse off of him only to receive a flurry of red stave swings to the head and neck. Disoriented, he succumbed to the ringing, and barely conscious, lay on one side twitching. Taking turns striking The Sasquatch King, the remaining two Yetis pummeled the king with no name until he fell onto his hands and knees, coughing up blood. If this were to be his bitter end, the king with no name needed only ensure that the Yetis before him advanced no further into his fortress.

Beautifully crafted, the Yetis withdrew each an elegant sword, standing over the dying king. The king looked over to Ernis, twitching, shy half a claw or more and shy an eye. Lunging for Ernis’ hammer, the king felt the icy sting of two blade’s piercing his heart, pinning him to the fortress floor. Having delivered not one but two mortal blows, the Yetis fulfilled their assigned task and reclaimed their blades.
Brows furrowed, one coughed and choked. Reaching for its throat it found one of its own black javelins protruding from it and collapsed. Thinner, taller and faster than any Abominable The Sasquatch King had ever seen, as he lay idle in a pool of his own blood, he watched as a Yeti wearing the same arachnid symbol as the others made quick work of his comrade. Sheathing his blood soaked blade as his fellow Yeti spurted red from a plethora of wounds, the rogue Yeti squatted before The Sasquatch King and wore an apologetic look as if sorry for being late. The unnamed king, with few moments to spare, replied with eye contact indicative of his appreciation.
The rogue Yeti vanished moments before Ernis staggered onto his feet. Helping the nameless king to his feet, the duo linked arms and made their way down the spiral staircase leading to Mosaque and The Sasquatch King’s newly born son. Collapsing onto his knees the moment he entered their chamber, Mosaque dashed to her lover’s side. Their son, frightened and born little more than a year ago, watched from afar, curious but cautious.

Dismissing any last-ditch effort by Mosaque to salvage his life, the king with no name swatted at her before forcefully stripping from his own hide the piece of flesh proving his identity. Handing it to his favorite teacher and lover without so much as a word, she nodded, tears streaming down her face. Unhinging his bloodied and golden bracers, the king with no name next looked to Ernis. Collecting both pieces from the floor, Ernis nodded.
“I’d still like to name him.” Mosaque pleaded.
“Then name him.” said the king, his words followed by blood and saliva.
“We’ll never tell a soul.” said Mosaque while Ernis nodded.
Summoning the last stitch of strength his body had left, the nameless king beckoned forth his son from the chamber’s edge. Just learning to walk, the boy slowly approached. Reaching for his thorn-riddled-crown, the king with no name placed it atop his son’s head and, before being visited by the twins himself, whispered in his son’s ear “Long Live The King.”

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To Win This Tribal Riddle Contest You Must Join Our Discord Server, Open a Ticket (#help-request channel) and answer the following three questions at the SAME TIME, numbering them 1,2 and 3.

https://discord.gg/theabominablebunch

Winner shall receive a 1of1 Custom-NFT courtesy of our Artist (James Owen) whether it be a TAB PFP, separate PFP or something else entirely. Additionally the winner shall receive an especially Rare Sasquatch NFT and the ability to onboard two new people of our choosing into the community. Tickets will be checked every 4hours. Limit of 3 sets of guesses per hour per participant. Remember guys, this is just a game. Try to have fun above all else! Goodluck :)

1. Whose hammer does Ernis yield?
2. What are the names the twins?
3. Which animal do The Unnamed King’s golden bracers resemble?

This LORE Riddle is Dedicated to Scott, Tubs, Pacal & MikeIsaak. Thank you guys so much for everything you do and always supporting us. We wouldn’t be TAB without you guys.

• The TAB Team