In Ye Olde Merrie Monkcestre [CLOSED]

[Munkcestrian RepubIic]

Edd of the Ash tree ran on along the path, the Sheriff of Monkcestre and his henchmen on horseback gaining on him though still far behind. Robert le Machaun had only been appointed sheriff last year, following his predecessor's death in a latrine pit collapse accident, and had so far been unable to catch Ash tree, who knew the land of his home in a way no French-speaking Norse invader ever could.

Unfortunately, Ash tree objected to riding on horseback on cultural grounds, horses being no animal for a true Englishman such as himself to ride, and so now that the authorities were actually chasing him - having previously relied upon getting out of there before they could even respond - he was at something of a disadvantage.

And, even more unfortunately, as Ash tree took a quick glance back to see his pursuers, he ran into the branch of a tree and knocked himself out cold.

As he awoke several hours later in the dungeons of George de Fenwick, the powerful Bishop of Monkcestre, he understood that he was in a rather unfortunate situation.

Visualised: Ash tree in the dungeon

[Munkcestrian RepubIic]

Ash tree was reading a scroll that had been smuggled in through the dungeon cell's window-grate by one of his Cool Folx. Being a good, true Englishman, he was very interested in education and learning, and even in prison he looked for it. This scroll spoke of the Hunnic heritage of the Anglo-Saxons, the author clearly having latched on to one sentence of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History and, despite mockery from Norman scholars who unironically believed a giant got thrown off a cliff, expanded upon his (correct) theory from there. As he read of the peoples of the Eurasian steppe and how the Anglo-Saxons were their descendants, Ash tree came to a sudden realisation.

Wow! My previous disregard for horse riding was wrong, being motivated by my wish to avoid any association with de Chesne and the idea that cavalry is a Norman thing, for it is in fact a rightfully Anglo-Saxon tradition that was appropriated by the Normans! he knew. Ash tree had been redpilled on this, and he was now even more based than he had been previously.

[Munkcestrian RepubIic]

There was a knock at the door and then George fitz George, the bastard son of George de Fenwick, entered Ash tree’s dungeon cell. Ash tree quickly stuffed to one side the scroll he had been reading.

“lol you got OWNED,” said George.

“Have sex, incel,” replied Ash tree.

George was visibly perplexed by this statement. Ash tree knew as much as anyone of his promiscuous sexual habits, and had indeed used George’s ‘degeneracy’ as propaganda in his mass-produced pamphlets. “How am I an incel?” he asked.

“Because you’re not having sex right now. You are, then, currently involuntarily celibate. Only by becoming voluntarily celibate, which in this instance means not desiring sex at every single waking moment, can you stop being an incel, but we both know why that will never happen LOL,” said Ash tree.

George’s feelings were hurt. “How could you say such a thing?”

“I am a very intelligent person who is able to understand the root causes of problems very easily,” replied Ash tree.

[Munkcestrian RepubIic]

Fitz George had left shortly afterwards, still seething from his verbal defeat by Ash tree. A satanic orgy was due to be held later in the castle, attendees coming from as far as fifty miles (!) away for this special occasion, and there he would relieve his feelings of exasperation from talking to such an impertinent Englishman. Yet he was still conflicted. Was Ash tree right? Was he, George fitz George, an incel, then?

Today, for some reason, the English servants had all taken the day off (their one day a year off, in fact). George fitz George was, for the first time in his life, forced to do things himself. This, of course, made him more and more irritated. I am better than these Saxons! They should be SERVING me, he thought.

As the guests started to arrive, though with the orgy still an hour or so away, fitz George decided he had to do something to alleviate his boredom. He decided to go hunt a fox for fun, not needing its meat or furs, simply because not much else in life brought him joy and the orgy still would not begin for some time. As he walked through the forest with his sword, following a dog slightly less inbred than the guests back at the castle, he came across an extraordinary sight. A giant, wheeled tower was coming down the path towards the castle!

How curious, he thought. What is it doing here? Did it take a wrong turn? he wondered. Then his dog ran deeper into the forest, having found some trace of a fox, and he followed it. Meanwhile, at the castle, the guests could now hear the tower as it rumbled along. They were left wondering what on earth the noise was. But then the orgy began, and they just shrugged, entering the main hall to engage in disgusting acts.

[Munkcestrian RepubIic]

Visualised: The castle previously

When fitz George returned, having found no foxes on his hunt, the castle was on fire. The tower he had witnessed earlier had parked itself so as to be adjacent to the castle’s entrance at the top of the steps. Archers on the top of the tower were shooting at anyone trying to escape onto the roof or down the steps. The screams and cries for help from the orgy attendees trapped inside were growing more and more desperate.

WHAT THE FUCK, he thought.

On the other side of the castle, a group of Englishmen had left the tower and were cutting open the grate of a certain dungeon cell. As the grate clattered to the ground, they were already hauling Ash tree out of his cell. “LOL this is so epic,” said Ash tree. “Before those Norman aristocrats burn in Hell, they will die of smoke inhalation in this world.”

Some might have considered Ash tree to be a terrible person for saying that, but in fact his statements were not only entirely acceptable but also GOOD not just in that era but in this one too when you consider the crimes of the medieval aristocracy. In fact, it’s the least they ever deserved.

Singing The Cutty Wren, the Cool Folx made their way back to the tower with Ash tree.

[Munkcestrian RepubIic]

Lord Chancellor Roger d'Alencon bowed before the king. “Sire, it seems that almost the entire nobility of the North Country died in the fire,” he said. “We believe Baron de Fouquier’s siege tower he reported missing was the one used in the attack. We have instructed the royal guard and sheriffs to keep an eye out for it.”

“Well, that is unlucky,” said the king, who had come to the throne through deposing his brother whilst the latter was off crusading. This did not play any part in Ash tree’s struggle because he was based and redpilled enough to understand that this was irrelevant to the suffering of England under the Norman yoke.

“Indeed, sire,” replied d'Alencon. “But with the death of the Lord President of the Council of the North in the fire, you must appoint a replacement. My staff have taken the liberty of drawing up a list of potential candidates for the post,” he said, handing a scroll to the king.

The king unrolled the scroll, very briefly reading over it. “Oh, a bishop? This George de Fenwick sounds like the perfect candidate...”

[Munkcestrian RepubIic]

I will be regularly writing attacks on figures from Northumbrian history who I dislike.

Ash tree was walking along the road, minding his own business, when two sisters suddenly accosted him. Being an Englishman loyal to his country, he was instantly able to tell that they were Normans.

“We are the Mitford sisters,” they said. Ash tree instantly knew he was in for a world of trouble.

“I am a fascist,” said the older sister.

“And I am a communist,” said the younger.

“Now, are you either a fascist or a commu–“ they began to say simultaneously before Ash tree interrupted, startling them.

“Your political extremist LARP is pathetic and childish. I mean, really, dividing a room between yourselves to build a ‘fascist’ shrine on one side and a ‘communist’ shrine on the other? You are the historical equivalent of people who watch ‘Jreg’ videos and treat political beliefs – ideology, rather, because you have no real beliefs – as being part of their REALLY QUIRKY PERSONALITY. This is part of your disconnect, as part of the Norman aristocracy, from the real people of this country, whose beliefs are not so neat as to be arranged into clearly-defined ideologies.”

[Munkcestrian RepubIic]

One day, while walking along the road, Ash tree met a knight. Thinking that the knight was there to arrest him, Ash tree prepared for an epic battle – but the knight assured him that he had no love for the king and was loyal to the king’s brother, who had been deposed whilst off crusading (as has been mentioned previously).

Ash tree’s nose wrinkled upon hearing this declaration of loyalty to the ‘true king’. The knight did not notice this. “I am sure you are also loyal to our true king and fighting for him,” said the knight, who was sure that Ash tree was also loyal to the ‘true king’ and fighting for him.

“Actually, no,” said Ash tree. “Your king was — is — a rapist of men and women, infamous for his cruelty even by Norman standards, who only ever treated the country he ruled over as something to be taxed for his wars.”

The knight was shocked at this statement. “Why, you—” he began, raising his sword to strike Ash tree down, only for one of the Cool Folx to emerge from behind a tree and shoot him with a crossbow. Ash tree sidestepped neatly as the knight fell from his horse to the ground.