The Mav Overlords Quest: "And a Kidd shall lead them... or not"

You knew it was coming.




The saga continues...



Installment V.


Whinenheimer Dirkendouche was awakened suddenly by a shrill shrieking bellowing into the midst of his quarters. He recognized at once that it must either the unmistakable sound of wild ferrets mating or the voice of his Master. He finally made out the words "DIRKENDOUCHEARISEFROMYOURCHAMBER!!!!!!!!" and immediately arose to see what his master wished of him. As he met his master face to face, he suddenly realized he had forgotten to remove the mud and squished figs he had adorned on his face before sleeping to protect it from imperfections during battle, he prayed his master would not address it. Master Screamyvoice Avery stood glaring at Dirkendouche for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally he shook his head and shrieked "THEREISSOMETHINGOFIMPORTANCE I MUST TELLYOU!!!!!!!!!!!" What Dirkendouche heard next would stun him. His master explained that the great ruler of the lands of Dallasux, Filthyrich Cubansquire had agreed in principle to an exchange of mercenaries from the land of New Tunic.

"Oh Master! What utter nonsense! How shall we win battles without Jerrytooth, Duke of Stackenhouser, Prince Desagana Dsucks Dass of the Moors, Harris of Devinshire and George of Deavenshire, not to mention loses our 2 selections in the annual recruitment of unpaid warriors" complained Dirkendouche. "We shall win because He that is coming to Dallasux, is greater than the all of our forces combined." said a voice in shadows. Suddenly a great and large figure appeared. The early morning sun that had just risen was now blotted out by the enormous figure that came forth. In one had he held the leg of a fowl, in the other, a sack of gold coins. Dirkendouche recognized the voice and bowed to the ground

"What is thy bidding my master" he said.
"Arise old friend" replied Cubansquire, "The day of reckoning is here, for this very night I shall arrange for the return of The Kidd that will lead men to Dallasux."
"Why are they still calling him that, isn't he older than everyone on our team? and isn't his firing percentage subpar?"
"That may be so, but he shall bring with him an onslaught of teamwork that shall lead our warriors to victory in the tournament of the gods"
"As you wish my master, I shall rejoice the return of The Kidd that will lead men by throwing a party with many attractive warrio.... maidens adorning the streets"
"That will not be necessary"
With that Filthyrich Cubansquire climbed back into his carriage and the sun returned to fill the earth with its light.


The news spread quickly throughout all the world. The return of The Kidd that will lead men was met with much fanfare. Jerrytooth, Duke of Stackenhouser seemed to be comfortable with the news. "Tis but a fluke" said he. "Soon shall I return to the land of Dallasux, for where else shall I find the loosest women of pale skin in all the lands?"

All seemed to accept their fate, some took it harder than others. Harris of Devinshire fell down when he heard the news and did not get up arise the next evening. Prince Desagana Dsucks Dass of the Moors was irate "How shall it come to be that I am traded for a mere tunic, even if it is new! and my heavens you sure do smell unusually foul today my master... no offense" nobody bothered to correct him though, for he had mistakenly voiced his displeasure to a herd of oxen he had thought was Filthyrich Cubansquire. After a while a single oxen answered him "no offense! why that is exactly why you are being traded for a new tunic!" the Prince hung his head and accepted his fate.

All was going according to the plans of Filthyrich Cubansquire. He had set forth his devious plans, and he would finally garner himself a victory in the tournament of the gods. He had just one more thing to do, George of Deavenshire had requested an audience with him, "probably to wish me well and thank me for letting him be a member of my fine group of warriors" thought Cubansquire.

George of Deveanshire entered the room.
"My master, I would like to thank you for granting this request of mine."
"Certainly, George of Deavenshire, what did you wish to discuss"
"My master, I would like to thank you for allowing me to serve as a member of your warriors, It is an honor.
"I am honored by your kind words, and I shall wish you all the best the gods can offer in the land of New Tunic"
"Thank you my master, with all that said... I must respectfully decline your offer to be become a member of warriors in New Tunic"
Cubansquire laughed "Well I'm sorry but you do not have much a choice in the matter"
"I am afraid I do my master, do you not remember when you first recruited me and you were eating that leg of a fowl while we signed our agreement?"
"Yes, what of it"
"Do you not remember the stipulation of the fowl?"
Cubansquire's face suddenly turned pale white, he realized his greed and gluttony had gotten the better of him once again. He had allowed in a haste, a clause in the contract that if George of Deavenshire gave him fresh fowl meat every week from his homeland, he would not trade him for an entire year.
"You had told me that if I should supply you with the freshest leg of fowl from my farmland, you would grant me a clause that I may chose, to not allow any exchange with any team that I did not desire. Sir, I do not desire to go to the land of New Tunic, I have heard the people there are somewhat rude, and have a fondness for urinating in public view. I shall exercise this right i have, as it says in the contract."
Cubansquire could not speak for a few minutes. Suddenly he became angry and began to scream. "HOW CAN YOU BLOCK THIS WHOLE EXCHANGE JUST BECAUSE OF SOME STUPID BIRD RIGHTS?"
"It is my right. and I shall exercise it."

Filthyrich Cubansquire left the room shellshocked. His deal had hit an unexpected snag, brought on by his own greed. He shook his head in disbelief and stomped the ground in anger. 50 miles away, a vase fell off a table.

Dallasux had failed to bring back The Kidd that will lead men. Filthyrich Cubansquire could only watch in torment that night as George of Deavenshire fired 11 arrows at the opposition and missed badly on all attempts.