Swords Against the King

Or “The Magnificent Eight”

Bill of Morley(bone) sat on the Porcelain Throne of his empire, and brooded.

A sword of impossible width rested to one side. It was the legendary Doomshovel, whom some called the “Stapler of Souls” (or was it the “Stealer of Holes”?) Its black rune carved surface glinted with an unearthly light and its notched edge gave testament to its countless battles.

Trev the Usurper had snaffled his empire (well, Thetford actually) from beneath Bill’s nose whilst out adventuring. Bill, whom some called Kinkyslayer or the Impaler of Women, wanted it back.

Filled with the fire of determination, Bill stood, hoisted his chain trews, and yanked the Imperial Flusher. As the water cascaded through the throne, Bill heard a gurgled voice speak from its depths.

“Yo, Bill ! (Glub, Glub). It’s me, Straasha; Lord of the Seas and Master of S-Bends (Glub, Gurgle). I hold the key to your destiny ! (Gubble, Gubble)“.

Bill looked into the swirling depths, where a watery face looked up at him.

“If you have my key, keep it !” said Bill. The water looked distinctly brown.

He strode into his long hall and drew a horn of ale from a keg. He took a long calming swig.

“Hey (Glub, Glub), cut that out !” said a liquid voice from the horn. The horn fell and cracked on the paved floor.

An amber form rose up and stood before Bill. Tall it was, powerfully muscled and bearded with seaweed. A long trident was gripped in his right arm. The left arm was missing.

“Where’s your other arm, Straasha ?” enquired Bill.

“(Glub, Gurgle) You drank it you impudent mortal !!!” Straasha roared in reply.

“Oh” said Bill and wiped seafoam from his face. “Are you going to help me regain my empire ?”

“You mean that hovel of huts called Thetford ?” sneered Straasha. “Of course not ! You are destined for greater things. You shall be King of all England !”

“Oh, naturally” said Bill as he backed away. Lunatics with pointy tridents could be dangerous to his health. He wished he hadn’t left Doomshovel in the Throne Chamber.

“But it’s true !” crashed Straasha’s voice, like surf smashing a swimmer onto rocks. “You will rule all England. I will rule the Seas. Together we could conquer all the world !“.

Megalomania is a common trait amongst Warrior Heroes and Bill was no exception.

“Sounds good to me !” he said, his mind made up. “Let’s drink on it “.

“Let’s not” said Straasha.

Later that day Bill assembled his most loyal troops. He explained his schemes and they promptly left. Sighing with despair, he went and searched for his old adventuring buddies instead.

He found Gaynor of the Forests idly skinning some rabbits for a new cloak.

“Shouldn’t you kill them first?” observed Bill.

“Oh no!” said Gaynor happily. “It’s more fun this way”.

As she grappled with the struggling lupines, Bill outlined his plans. Being of a carefree nature, she agreed to help. Besides, being a King’s Bint was better than being an Ex-Captain’s Bint.

He found Renette of the North outside the village, breaking in some new boys. He coughed politely to gain her attention.

“Oh, hello Billykins” said Renette huskily. She put down her rawhide whip, and demurely sauntered over. A dozen or so nubile young boys took a breather behind her.

“Um” hesitated Bill, “Is Egil around anywhere?”

From some nearby trees came the sounds of a ferret in pain (or maybe it was delight. Who can tell?)

“Aah, Egil, could you come out here please?” squeaked Bill as Rennette stroked his mail.

Egil Angry Ant stomped into the open, dragging his huge war axe from one gloved paw.

“Watcha want, Cap’n ?” he grunted. Egil never quite grasped Thetford politics.

Bill detailed his scheme for regicide.

“Will there be lotsa killin n’ lootin n’ rapin?” snorted Egil.

“Will there be lots of handsome young men?” enquired Renette.

“Of course!” lied Bill, and they were won over to his cause.

Next he went in search of his old banner bearer, Sandy the Gnarly. He found her at the practice pit, near the village square.

He watched her lithe form as she deftly practised quick drawing Cute Dave from his sheath.

“Take that!” she yelled, as Dave flashed out, striking the training pell a mighty blow.

Noticing Bill, she casually drew her other weapon, “Gnarly Bits’, and showed him her two weapon butterfly technique.

Dave squealed in terror as he and the sword flashed effortlessly in front of Sandy - a whirling mix-master of death. With a flourish, she sheathed them both and strode over to Bill. Dave whimpered in his scabbard and checked for blood loss.

“What’s up, sweetie?” she enquired.

“I’m planning to revolt! said Bill, unaware of the set-up line he just delivered.

“You do already” chortled Sandy. She opened a tinny one handed (years of practice there) and drained it in one gulp. She tossed the empty can to her warbeast, who thirstily licked the last few drops out.

Bill succinctly outlined his plan of conquest.

“So you’re gonna kill everyone who stands against you and subjugate the rest?” queried Sandy.

“Yeah , that’s about it” said Bill.

“Count me in” replied Sandy.

Next came the recruiting of some extra muscle. To take over England he needed a little more help. Pondering this, Bill strode between a group of mud huts.

A cry of “Sincere regrets!” tore through the air as a body crashed into Bill from above. He was thrown to the ground as Helen the Timid held her razor sharp knife to his throat.

“Hello Bill” said Helen politely. “Give me all your money or I cut your jugs open”.

“Aah, Helen, nice to see you” grunted Bill, face down in dirt. “You’re just the person I’ve been looking for”.

He tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but a jab to the throat made him quite like it where he was.

“How would you like to assassinate the King of England?” he enquired in a conversational way.

“What’s the pay?” she demanded.

“All the gold you can carry” he lied.

“I’m in” she said.

Once more erect, Bill continued on his way. All he needed were some big, stupid, macho fighter types to take the brunt of the brawling. Ahead he espied Scott ‘Big Boy’ Ragnar and Axeman Dan swapping dirty sheep jokes.

“Perfect” grinned Bill to himself.

“Say” said Bill as strolled up “I’ve heard it told Vikings couldn’t hack your way out of a wet paper bag”.

“Rubbish!” said Scott.

“Bollocks!” cried Dan.

“We’re rough, tough fighting machines!” they declared in unison.

“Betcha couldn’t fight the entire English Army!” challenged Bill.

“Sure could, Saxon Pansy” replied Scott.

“Yeah, with one hand tied behind our backs” added Dan.

“You’re on then” said Bill. “Follow me”.

At last Bill’s army was ready to take over England. All eight of them, nine if you counted semi-sentient weaponry like warbeasts.