Lord Woebetide’s Innards

Warning - foulness alert.

High on a steep hill in the region of Dank Times stands the fortified stronghold of Lord Woebetide, a stone built and granite reinforced Castle accessed only through its main gate. Deep within its walls resides The Dark One, the Angel Bane, the evil Lord Woebetide.

The year is 1600, and the region of Dank Times enjoys prosperity through its many trade posts which exchange locally made hemp garments for exotic fruits from the Eastern Cape.

It is midday, and Lord Woebetide has taken to his bedchamber suffering from severe gastroenteritis.

His Lordship (lies naked upon his bed. Bathed in sweat and groaning under the combined weight of caked faeces and leeches): "Woe is me for I am stricken, woe, woe".

Chancellor Ghast (Desperate to assure His Lordship of his competence directs the small army of wizards, spellsmiths, soothsayers, summoners and doctors as they ferry fresh water, bucket loads of fresh leeches and sackcloth towels up from the bowels of the castle):

"More leeches, we must rid his frame of this deathly disease, and open that fucking window man I'm dying here".

A waiting maiden, covered in vomit obeys and hastily opens the only window in the bedchamber, alas it is a hot, still day, so sunlight streams in to only add to the discomfort.

His Lordship: "More magyck, rid me of this direness".

As one the crowd of gathered Mystics jointly chant, desperate to achieve some other worldly effect to bring their ruler some relief. Huddled in one corner a lone Fool juggles and jokes amid the stench, humidity and foulness of his surroundings.

Used Leeches, bloated with blood are cast to the fire where they pulsate and explode, adding to chaos and splattering the assembled company with blooded blobs which quickly dry in the heat of the day.

Chancellor Ghast (Completely lost in the confusion of chanting, moaning and the overwhelming stench which permeates everything): "I fear we may need the court physician, fetch Madam Bane".

All (in shock): "Madam Bane? No".

His Lordship (simultaneously and from every orifice spews forth urine, vomit, and liquified faeces in glorious colour): "Woe, woe".

At this sight everyone present rips a vomit wave which ripples about the room as the stench becomes overpowering. The smell of faeces now becomes almost malleable as even the Castle rats begin hurling themselves onto the traps in a bid to find release. From below in the courtyard, his Lordships Hounds whimper in synchronous pain.

Madame Bane enters the bedchamber and is immediately halted in her steps at the sight and stench that greets her.

Bane : "What the fuck.... " (Adds to the inch deep layer of vomit).

His Lordship : "Bane.....Bane". (Cries out in desperation).

The maiden who opened the window now succumbs to the attack on her senses and collapses with a sickly splash into the vomit covered floor.

His Lordship (groaning and barely audible): "Bane, help......me".

Bane (gathering herself): "By The Bones Of Legend I Cast Thee Out Foulness..... begone".

His Lordship now begins projectile vomiting which hits Madame Bane full in the face...

Chancellor Ghast : "Ye Gods!"

Bane (now soaked and caked in vomit): "Jesus H. Christ this is not in my fucking job description - holy shit, By The Organs Of Ostratop I Cast Thee Out Foul Thing Begone". (gestures wildly for effect).

His Lordship (now pale, and very weak simply lies half buried in vomit, faeces and dead leeches): "I can no longer tolerate...." (falls into deep coma).

Chancellor Ghast : "Assist Assist we must cut to rid the blood of the (cough) evil which (hack) fills his body - blades - I need blades".

Bane (now resigned to simply being an onlooker produces a dagger from her belt and proceeds to bleed Lord Woebetide to accelerate the blood loss, by cutting strips from his torso, arms, legs and face):

"We must rid the evil from his body".

His Lordship: "Fuck me, is this necessary?"

Chancellor Ghast (sweating profusely and feeling quite ill): "Steady thyself My Lord, we work to (vomit), rid thee of this vileness".

His Lordship "Woe, Woe".

....continued on page 672.........