COPYRIGHT INFO The Sporadic Verses are copyright 1992, 1993 and 1994 by Jeff Berry and Ben Baron. They may be reproduced in any SCA publication so long as this copyright notice is retained, they are not sold for profit, and the authors receive a copy. If you want to sell them for profit, or buy the nice bound collected editions, contact Jeff Berry, nexus@panix.com END OF COPYRIGHT INFO - Date: 11/25/97 The Sporadic Verses - an epistle in n parts Being a Satire of nothing in particular. For the discerning reader whose political fortunes can't get any worse From the mightier-than-the sword pens of Louis-Philippe Mitouard and Alexandre Lerot d'Avigne Episode the Twelfth Chapter 31 Jocko's announcement brought court to a screaming halt. Those who understood its implications stood in stunned silence. The rest of the populace also stood in stunned silence -- they had heard King Jocko's voice. He never spoke in public - especially not in full sentences. The various armies having had their respective carpets pulled out from underneath them (or in the case of the OPF, off of their bodies), sat in confusion. Jocko smiled and nodded to the PELICAN-double herald , and seated himself. The double gulped, and looked about for instructions. His superiors were nowhere to be seen, as they had already fallen back to prepared positions and were selecting a committee to deal with crisis even as Jocko smirked. Left to his own devices, he shrugged and with a kiss goodbye to his political aspirations, continued on with court. Even in the absence of their leadership, the UnterPELICANS were efficient enough to run court smoothly. They were even alert enough to make a little money on the side, granting several peerages that had been backordered. "Why wholesale when you can retail?" went the PELICAN reasoning. If one listened intently, one could almost hear the sound of the beehive of buzzing minds of the various coup plotters in the audience. This was certainly a new twist -- Jocko would stay on the throne, but his successor would be chosen anyway. John smiled with admiration -- it was a clever and worthy plan. Jocko couldn't have thought of this himself, of course, but John decided he had to meet the man who had. Court ended, and for once, John thought, before his dinner was cold. Chapter Thirty-two "Indeed, there is evil doing afoot." Cyrano told John as he stared down at his feet. "Upon my sole, what shall we do about this? Or, rather, how can we top this?" This was a rhetorical question, John assumed, since Cyrano usually had the answer before he did. He therefore held his peace (although that was due in part to the fact that he had no place to put it down.) "What we must do is to seize control of King Jocko, and shake him to his senses," Cyrano continued. "Perhaps a discussion with our brain-washing experts from PELICAN would be in order." "You mean, the ones that you used that time you convinced Duke Sir Baron Lord Crassus the Ironfisted that Knights don't outrank other peers?" "The same." "Yes, that might be in order. I know where a few PELICAN's are nesting tonight." John chuckled at his joke, blissfully unaware that your authors had already run most of the bird jokes into the ground. He led Cyrano gently into that dark night. Chapter Thirty-three Lancelot casually cracked open another beer by breaking it across Melrose's spine. Melrose merely winced, and murmured "Light." Lancelot smiled and continued to dictate, "and so, your Excellency, our plans to deal with John the Smith have been ... umm, what's a polite way to say fu ..." "Perhaps, 'sent awry', your Archgrace?" Melrose hastily interjected before the feature garnered a PG-13 for profanity. "Yes. Have been sent awry. Send instructions. And money. And Yvette, if possible." Melrose dutifully finished the letter and went off in quest of homing pigeon who was trained to fly to the Imperial Seat. There must be one, it was just a question of who to bribe or threaten. Since it was a question of birds, he headed towards the PELICAN wing of the encampment. Chapter Thirty-four The PELICAN camp was a humble looking affair; busy and well organized. The gate was guarded by large and dour looking fighters who had ruined any hope for knighthood they might ever have had by throwing their lot in with PELICAN. This made them very cranky. They had a reputation for being impossible to break -- nothing could make them smile. Usually they avoided this fate by brutally murdering the pranksters before they could get to the punchline, and several mangled bodies still wearing arrows-through-the-head, nose glasses and other such jolly items stood witness to the effectiveness of their tactic. Out of the darkness before the gate stepped John and Cyrano. They stopped short, for at the same moment, Melrose had stepped out on the other side. Likewise, Jasper had stepped out from the remaining side (the fourth side of the square being the guards, of course). A frozen tableau extended itself in time like an overstretched metaphor, until Jasper spoke, "Oho! Friend Bob, and Fred as well, I see!" He strode jovially over towards John and Cyrano while Melrose gazed suspiciously on. "What a coincidence! You were coming to meet me over there, in my camp which happens, purely by chance to be on the opposite side of the PELICAN camp, while I was coming to meet you. Isn't it funny how we just happened to meet here by the gates, through which we had no intention of passing?" John, none too slow on the uptake, but rather confused, replied, "Why yes, er, Bert, shall we go off then?" With a nod, the three vanished leaving a surprised Melrose at the gate. He shrugged and turned to explain to the guards his purpose. "Jasper, what in the name of Saint Diana are you doing?", queried John. "Shh, that was Melrose, Squire to Archduke Lancelot Soloflex. I don't know what he was doing there but it bodes ill for all of us. John, the time has come for us to come clean. What is it that you are up to this time?" John cast a sideways glance at Cyrano, who nodded. Then, in what might be considered by some people to be a blatant attempt to provide another plot summary to complement Jasper's in Episode 11, he began to explain. "I found myself bored in the Wasteland ..." "A bit redundant, eh?" whispered Jasper to Cyrano. "... and thus decided to form a Principality to liven things up a bit. However, I stumbled across Cyrano and his band of Late Period Personas, led by Anne of Creighton and we decided to go beyond merely stirring things up and instead go full bore for a complete Late Period Puppet Principality to be administered by those who know what is best for it." "That being you and Cyrano, right, and what's good for you is good for this incipient principality?" "It is always a pleasure to deal with so incisive a mind," added Cyrano, "and what is your purpose, friend Jasper?" Jasper quickly and in hushed tones briefed the two (the reader is directed to last episode for the gist), and finished with, "so I was going to PELICAN to see what their plans were, now that Jocko has so thoroughly fu ..." "Sent things awry?" asked Cyrano. "Yes. Sent things awry." "Perhaps I can answer that!" Stepping out of a hollow tree came Sven, the PELICAN seneschal. "Who?" asked Jasper. "No, I am a PELICAN, not an owl!" The trio cringed. "I represent the combined agents of PELICAN, and Jocko's untimely announcement has thrown our plans into disarray as well. Perhaps, we can aid each other, you see we have an ace in hole -- or rather a twin in that barrel over there." He pointed to a large keg, standing rather conspicuously nearby, from which issued an occasional querulous moan. The conspirators, their interest piqued, leaned close as Sven began again the tale of King Jocko and his forgotten twin brother Boffo. Chapter 35 Several hours later, Sven, ever the thorough PELICAN, finished detailing to John, Cyrano and Jasper every miniscule fact down to time of day and the color of their underwear of the history of King Jocko and his brother Boffo. It seemed that the PELICANs had been planning to kidnap King Jocko and replace him with Boffo anyway. As it happened, Boffo had the cardinal virtues that both John and the PELICANs looked for in a leader; to have a head like a maraca, and to be as malleable as cheap tin. "Son of lawyers, eh?" John said. He was a bit surprised to hear his own voice, after having spent the last several hours unable to slide a word in. "He is trainable, I hope." "Yes, quite. We even had a Laurel instruct him in etiquette. You know the words to that old song, "If it wasn't for Laurels teaching classes they wouldn't even know how to ..." Sven said. "Yes. I know the one." John added hastily. "Sven, my new friend, we have a deal. We help you replace Jocko with King Boffo. He stays on the throne forever, just as he announced, and he will grant us our new Principality. Away goes our problem of who succeeds Jocko, and you get to rule the kingdom by proxy. Q.e.d." John said triumphantly, waving in the air like a college lecturer. He clasped the PELICAN genially by the shoulder. The PELICAN seneschal looked uncomfortable, being unused to such close interpersonal contact. "There is still one problem, my friend," Cyrano added, in a neutral voice -- unimpressed. "Getting to King Jocko." This sent John and Sven into another fit of pondering. "Leave that to me." Jasper piped up. "King Jocko owes me rather a tidy sum. We can work our way into his camp on pretense of collecting his gambling debts. Once there, we make the switch." The party, lacking a better idea, quickly agreed. They hefted the barrel containing Boffo and began the long trek to the Party Bowl, where they would find King Jocko and their destiny. Chapter 36 Meanwhile, the Viking Secret Police Death Squad was on the march again, Baron Wulfric of Warmongeria at their head, this time toward King Jocko's encampment. The crowds parted in twain (usually as the result of VSPDS axe blows) as they made their advance. As the army marched on, their Sergeant, Gunbutta the giant Viking warrior-maid, led the army in chanting the mysterious words of their street cadence "Shrug, Shrug, Shrug": Army: Left, Right, Left, Right Gunbutta: The enemies blows are all light! Right? Army: Reft, Light, Reft, Light Gunbutta: And we can shrug them all night, right! Army: Left, all Night, Left, all Night Gunbutta: So we'll give them all a good fight, right? Army: Lert, Fight, Lert, Fight Gunbutta: Then we drink all the liquor in sight, right? Army: There are no "s's" in left or right.... Gunbutta: So make it up you idiots! Army Part 1: Umm, ok, less, sight? Army Part 2: No, Seft, Might! In high spirits the army marched on. John and company arrived at the infamous Party Bowl, coming in on the heels of the Viking Secret Police Death Squad, and kicking aside the heels of several dismembered corpses -- the VSPDS's latest handiwork. Our heroes skulked from behind the trees, observing King Jocko's tent, trying to avoid being noticed by the VSPDS but also to avoid having the keg carrying Boffo confiscated by the myriad drunks who were strewn liberally about the premises. Jasper had not yet had need to use his excuse about gambling debts, as the party was not even noticed in the chaos which was at that moment, engulfing the camp. Baron Wulfric of Warmongeria stepped forward, flanked by armed men, toward the large pink tent, gaily decorated with balloons (at least they looked like balloons, except for their unusual cylindrical shape) which was the home of King Jocko. The sound of loud revelry could be heard from inside. Baron Wulfric shouted into the tent, but met no response -- the party raged on. Miffed, as much because he never got invited to such parties as because King Jocko would not respond, Wulfric ordered the door of the tent cut down. Responding to the sound of his party being crashed, King Jocko stood on the other side of the tent door when it was finally shredded by Wulfric's guards. Wulfric stepped forward. He, unlike Jocko, was used to making windy and disingenuous public speeches. He let loose a beauty on this occasion, "Your Mag ... Majesty, I place you under arrest." He, in an unprecedented bit of VSPDS subtlety, even had a reasonable excuse, "By renouncing the spirit of Corporate law you have placed our fair kingdom in jeopardy of being dissolved. In the past, I have spoken of this danger to the Stewardess." This statement was not entirely untrue, of course, he had spoken to her whilst plotting his own campaign to have Warmongeria declared a separate kingdom some months previously. "Therefore, I have no choice but to place you and your queen under arrest and to declare your reign in abeyance until you publicly renounce your intention to remain on the throne. Until then I will rule as regent." "How can you do that?" Asked a nearby PELICAN, just in time to help the exposition. "I, being the senior Baron of the second-oldest barony have the right. You see, applying the formula, you take the age of the barony, multiply by number of years the baron has been in office, divide by the number of candidates. In odd years the person with the highest number is Baron." "But this is Anno Imperium 60," Jocko said, straining to remember his basic math. "But hasn't it been a pretty odd year so far, Your Majesty." Wulfric said, tiring of Aristotelian logic, but remembering that he had an entire army waiting for him to take action. He crooked a finger to one of his guards. The guard, Thorbjorg, hastily stopped counting the Baron's age on his fingers, grabbed his greataxe and ran to the Baron's side. "As of this moment, you are under house, er, tent arrest." Wulfric smirked, the VSPDS smirked, Gunbutta smirked and several of the passers-by, not wanting to feel left out, also smirked. With that, Wulfric turned on his heel and stalked over to the Royal thrones, upon which he planned to spend an immensely satisfying if somewhat uncomfortable night.