Henry V.
by
M_Brendle
B&N Store:
Clackamas Town Ctr Mall,
Portland,OR
Saint Crispin's Eve, 1415, Henry Ironomenclature wearing shiny armor, regal cape, iron greaves and visored helmet, happened to be waiting on the battlefield of Agincourt. A conspiracy was afoot, tremoring through the tendril veins of the mass collective of bodies currently supine under the stars. But that goddamn battle minstrel was still stirring a racket.
Eat and drink you muddy dogs
For tomorrow we might die
But don't forget to tip your waitress
In case this ain't goodbye
Bloodlush York, the son of an exiled horseshoer, once in the stockades, passed Henry a flask of wine.
"Wha?" said Henry who had wondered how he was going to get out of this one.
"What the hell, I figure, anyway, we've sailed from one shore to the next and maybe we'll kill a few more people or maybe they'll kill us but you know I saw this guy with a leek in his hat and honestly I don't even care anymore as long he at least get dismembered tomorrow. A leek, like yeah that's your bastion of identity. Stupid **bleep**."
Henry looked in puzzlement as the drunken York rambled on. He felt himself apart from the battle, separate from the rest. Only he knew the extent of the conspiracy and had only agreed to this hare-brained war in order to uncover its hidden truth. He knew France had been in league with an illuminati organization under the leadership of the Mystic Sultanate, Abin Ovarth Inkenitt. Together, with the cooperation of the United Merchants Guild, they established what he knew was fast becoming a perpetual war state in which all those involved got rich, and fast, and were too far away to see the death throes of those paying the price. The signs were everywhere. Two swords left in the ground coming to a point, forming the unmistakable signature of the Discreet, Evil and Various Illuminati Locus, the theosophic V., a source of power to all those trained in the mysteries.
Permalink
Melissa_W
on:
Red Dawn of the Dead
L_Monty
on:
Cluelysses
