The Tale of the Chariots

Once, long ago, in this very land, there was a world that was dark, and evil, and filled of terror and dreadful inconvenience. Whenever a youth of the League of Desmond required rapid and reliable transit to any location, he would have few options. To walk was gruesomely tiring and slow! Bicycle? It reduced the pains of walking only minimally. Other options were few and far between! However one day that all quickly changed. The very gods themselves, in heaven, constructed two magnificent chariots, of incomparable speed and skill. Formed from holy water and the blood of saints, bones of martyrs, the flesh of demons, and wings of angels, they were, without a doubt, extremely special for the League.

Young Matthew, being the oldest in the League, was first to receive his chariot, a magnificent machine. White and dazzling as an angel's halo! Faster than god on rampage! And inside? Technologies that couldn't be imagined for decades to come! The gods did bestow this magnificent thing upon pious and worthy Matthew, for they knew that his gift would be a blessing to the entire league. Matthew now was the great ferryman for the League, transporting massive numbers of people thousands of miles at a time. He was truly an inspiration to men.

But what about the good Nicholas? Surely he also deserved a great and terrible beast such as Matthew's. Yes, the gods were busy designing Nicholas's chariot! This one was insectoid in design, red as the sun on Mars, small and light and manoeuvrable, and on the inside it was cavernous and spacious to the absurd degree! No man could have imagined a citadel of such proportions there! There was enough room inside for at least 100 men! Nicholas, of course was delighted at his chariot, enough so to even embark in certain illicit activities.

Now that the chariots had been forged and distributed, the League entered into the Golden Age, and prospered in peace for several centuries.