We ain't got no Booze!!!

[Harry Faversham]

To celebrate their great victory over the Northmen, Putrid son of Putrid and Bishop Bonk have declared a Victory Feast Day. The great and the good are arriving from all the neighboring Saxon parishes.
The cart carrying the most crucial and essential ingredient of said feast, the Ale, is trundling toward Putrid's Great Hall, when with a loud crack, the axle snaps. Leaving a guard with the cart the escort march off to fetch the Blacksmith from the nearby village to effect repair.
From the woods to the North, greedy and covetous eyes are watching proceedings... and licking thirsty lips!

[Harry Faversham]

From the woods to the North, greedy and covetous eyes are watching proceedings... and licking thirsty lips!

[Minuteman]

The Saga continues!! If I am not mistaken that is Thorkel the Tall and his raven-bearer; I'm sure the latter has a name but I don't know what it is, so I'll call him "Ralph" since that was the name of a past acquaintance who had only three interests - rugby, Vikings, and drinking.

Thirsty Thorkel is a formidable character, clearly. Is it another showdown with Putrid or a Saxon hero, the prize being several gallons of best quality Ale? Or are they after the stronger, higher quality mead? Or is it anything so long as it has an ABV of more than 4.0%?

[Harry Faversham]

The Saga continues!! If I am not mistaken that is Thorkel the Tall and his raven-bearer; I'm sure the latter has a name but I don't know what it is...

His name is 'and his Flagman'...
as in Thorkel the Tall and his Flagman. Do try and keep up old chap.

[Harry Faversham]

When King Toke got back to his ships, after Putrid's well administered bloody nose, who should he find lounging about on the beach sunbathing, but Thorkel and his crew! They'd gone AWOL floating across the Great North Sea during a storm and had just arrived near Kleethorpe. When King Toke commanded Blue Mushroom Ale brought to drown his sorrows, Thorkel and his lads grinned nervously and took a step backward...

"Actually, Great King, while we were 'anging about waiting for you, we kind of drunk it all."

"We ain't got no booze?"

The Big King of the Vikings hissed venomously. The first glimmerings of berserker showing in his beady eyes!
And that's how Thorkel the Tall, his Flagman and motley crew came to be lurking in the shrubbery near the Ale cart, facing a thousand Saxons being preferable to facing the wrath of their Big King.

[Peter]

Can you please quote what you want to remove? Not so long ago I deleted a whole topic on purpose, and I don't want to do this a second time.

I still have regrets of what I have done then.

[Harry Faversham]

Cheers Peter, thread timed 12:31 and 12:32 please.

[Peter]

That makes 11.31 and 11.32 for us on the continent!

Done!

[Harry Faversham]

Thank you Sir, Merry Crimbo!

[Harry Faversham]

Thorkel the Tall and his Flagman lead the charge from the woods across two acre field. Normally the sight of a Viking charge sends the Saxons into a proper attack of the vapours, but today Thorkel has made a grave error. The Saxons, ill disciplined rabble that they are, have breached one of the Ale barrels and have become fighting drunk. They meet the Viking charge head on and cut down the attackers in a drunken frenzy!
Thorkel the Tall, stunned at the sudden reversal of his fortunes and desertion by his Gods, legs it away across two acre field but is caught by the baying mob and wrestled to the ground. As he's dragged back toward the Ale cart Thorkel's day gets even worse as, Putrid son of Putrid comes poncing up the road at the head of the relief column, with the local blacksmith in tow.

[Harry Faversham]

Putrid son of Putrid arrives to rescue the booze, the horned helmet of a despondent and crestfallen Thorkel, can just be discerned behind Putrid's charger! What of the victorious guarders of the Ale cart? They're staggering drunkenly out of two acre field.





Right into the arms of another bunch of angry, thirsty Vikings!

[Harry Faversham]

Putrid son of Putrid realises this fight isn't over and deploys his troops to guard the broken ale cart as repairs are effected. He then gallops forward to recall the drunken rabble...





Fighting mad with Ale courage the Saxons taunt the advancing Vikings driving them into a murderous assault led by their Champion Bok Bandylegs.



An arrow from the Viking archer starts the ball rolling.



In very short order the Saxons are slaughtered almost to a man!





Putrid drives his Charger straight at the Viking Champion, kill him and the Norsemen will loose heart. This ill considered plan founders instantly. Bok Bandylegs cuts down both Putrid and his nag. Along the battle line this calamity sets the Saxons to wavering!







As Bok roars in triumph to his Gods a crossbow bolt whistles through the woods and plonks him down among the gruesome pile of bodies...



It's the last sucksess for the shaken Saxons who flee the field in disarray!





The exultant Viking Warriors find Thorkel the Tall tied up to the now pristine ale cart. Freeing him they set of to deliver the booze to the Big King of the Vikings' camp. As they traverse the gory field, a terrible groan comes from the dead pile, Bok yet lives! The happy band bung their concussed Champion atop the ale cart and set off on their way!