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HARKEN, YEE LEONINE SUPPLICANTS. THERE BE THIS DAY A GRIEVOUS WOUND INFLICTED UPON THE FIRMAMENT!
Across the frozen steppes of De-Troit, the King's subjects find the very Earth beneath them giving way. Terra herself has been struck a blow most true, her sturdy flesh now slick with the blood and rendered fat of a ragged clan of mountain bears. Mine subjects find themselves sliding to and fro, unable to gain purchase upon vast rivers of gore and viscera. There is not a boot in all of De-Troit that remains unspoiled, that wears not the stink of freshly-slain ursa minora.
Mine loyal vassals, take heart! Your words have taken flight and alit upon favorable ear.
All true-born and loyal sons and daughters of De-Troit shall be furnished with a length of twine and a lightly-used plastik-ed bag, fresh off the forge of the trash-smiths of House Meijer. With these tools, there can be furnished a new style of foot-pants, one that will allow my peoples to move between the many crimson flowers that bloom 'neath the reeking bodies of these bears, these cowardly bears, they who presented their hindquarters for entry so willingly one wonders if some small portion of the arrows protruding from their fetid corpses were not loosed by Eros himself.
No more shall you sink your feet into the soft folds of Terra's loins, ruining the supple leather of your counter'feited sporting shoes. And in return for this boon, I have but one request.
I would ask a question of mine subjects, one strikes at the very heart of yesterday's happ'nings.
WHY would these lowly creatures throw themselves so eagerly 'pon the turgid staves of mine Silver-and-Blue hordes?
WHY would they court death so breathlessly that they stain the very notion of life itself?
WHY did they set their purpose toward De-Troit, when there was nought to be found here but a grisly end?
Out of their forest homes they edged, each one breathing hot upon the trail of steaming fecal matter left by its predecessor. Desperate, hungry, and quite possibly driven mad by syph-ilis, they descended en-masse upon the gates of the Fields of Ford.
TO THESE LANDS THEY CAME, looking for food.
TO THESE LANDS THEY CAME, looking for shelter.
TO THESE LANDS THEY CAME, looking for affordable real estate.
And in these sacred lands, they found nought but the cold bite of mine fleshy halberd.
THROW WREATHS UPON THE FEET of the proud sons of the King, they who so bru-tally dispatched our wretched visitors. OFFER UNTO THEM extra servings of blended-cheeses, to be spread with great prejudice upon the battered wings of victory. ASK NOT why mine armies should be feted with the finest of skinn'd po-ta-toes while you are left with little but soured-cream, as their brave service in the name of their King has earned them these blessings and more.
ON THIS DAY I HONOR he who bears the name NDAMUKONG, of the House of Spears, for he did so vicious-ly dispatch the leader of this pack of Bears.
ON THIS DAY I HONOR he who bears the name Nick-olas, of the House of Pancakes, who so voraciously feasted upon the tender vittles left in brave Ndamukong's wake.
ON THIS DAY I HONOR he who bears the name STAF-FORD, the shiny fruit of mine own loins, whose ballista let flew wave after wave of occ'asionally precise destruction onto these lowest of God's creatures.
ON THIS DAY I CURSE the very blood of the craven Chi-ca-goan who loosed a flying bottle toward the young squire Darius, of House Slay. Whether he knew it or not, this was the most debilitating strike against the peoples of De-Troit that would be suffered in yesterday's slaughter. That bottle, even if emptied of ale most golden, could still have returned a deposit of 10 coppers, a blow to the Kingdom's coffers that will be most difficult to overcome. I know not what network of whisperers and spies conspired against us to so decimate our economy, but with great determination we shall root them out and flay them in a public ceremony upon the Isle of Belle.
I name thee craven, and I would loose gas upon thee.
Mine subjects, on the occasion of this great vic'tory, I reaffirm to you mine yron-clad commitment to lead our pride to the very front of the world's stage. When the wheel of fate gasps its final breath and ceases its e'ternal gyration, it shall be WE to whom it points. It shall be WE to whom the angels of heavens open their wings and spread their cherubic legs. It shall be WE who mount the Gods themselves, and none but WE who let loose a mighty roar as we drive home the barbed rod of righteousness.
In your name, I claim all lands.
To De-Troit.
To the Pride.
THE KING IN THE NORTH!
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LEAVETH THE CHUNKS
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