Iwras the Irregular and the Holy Mail

>Ancient wisdom.
>A lifetime of experience.
>And an attitude full of resentment and depression.
>You are Iwras the Irregular.
>And you have the unfortunate opportunity to be traveling with Sir Howthern of De Loin and his squire Speedy.
>Howthern was an ox of a man, albeit quite a tulip.
>Speedy was the opposite, but still a tulip.
>Only a Spanish accent was the difference.
>Despite numerous attempts at solidifying his knightly status, Howthern was never quite round table material.
>You attribute it to the odd, phallic-shape of his family crest.
>Not only that, he had the strange compulsion to drag the last syllable of the last word in every sentence.
>"My dear companionnnnnnn. I doth believe we are lostttttt."
>The sheer audacity of this man living, has made you contemplate murder and suicide.
>Speedy unfurls a map somewhere from beneath his tunic, "We shant be lost! We went through the Pits of Bergh, crossed the streams of Erie, and I can see the Lake of Terror from here!"
>You summon a tree stump and take a seat.
>Whilst the grand physics of where he’d retrieved this map nagged at the back of your mind, you, Iwras the Irregular, are disappointed.
>You are disappointed most of the time, but this was an exception.
>Mistakes have been made.
>You, who have traveled with Barbaric Nymphites.
>Hallowed with the Giants of the Snek Horde.
>Feasted with Glutton Monks in their lavisvious palaces.
>Braved the Magiks of the Apple.
>Learned the Secrets of Grimm.
>You, Iwras the Irregular, have now been reduced to traveling with Sir Beefsalot and his twiggy, twink, on horseback.
>You might feel more comfort at the Willow of Waste, had you opted to stay behind.
>You should probably not touch that map though.
>"Wizarddd! Come tell us where we areeeee."
>Howthern waved his fore finger to beckon the wizard closer.
>You are simultaneously repulsed and nauseated.
>"I am tired and require rest, knight. I'm most sure the postal service wouldn't mind time for a man to collect himself."
>"But sirrrrrr. It is a most holy matter of utmost importancceeee."
>"I'll tell you where you can put that 'Holy importance'-"
>Your retort was halted by the sudden appearance of a black figure.
>Literally black.
>Pitched enough to have been a night knight.
>There’s a pun in there somewhere...
>Reminds you of the impotency of the night watchmen in Ankh-
>"None shall pass!" said the dark one.
>This 'Black Knight' was quite stocky, burnt black armor and chain mail.
>The only definitive feature was the red, lizard-like creature on their shield and bare chest.
>That was pretty much it.
>Your view was suddenly blocked by the intervening of Sir Meatstudd, who dismounted his horse, his iron pecker drawn from his sheath.
>"You seem like a worthy adversary, Sir Knightttttt. But we must pass, for we are on a Holy missi-"
>"None shall pass."
>You could've swore the Black Knight's voice cracked.
>Howthern chuckles.
>"I see you wish to do things the hard wayyyyyy."
>He frisks his abdominal in turn which makes you visibly gag.
>"Have at theeeeeee!"
>Howthern swings his sword high above the Black Knight’s head.
>The interloper countered, swinging their sword into Howthern's exposed left side.
>What followed was something you, Iwras the Irregular, have never seen before.
>The flamboyant knight fell to the ground, rear parked straight into the air, completely still.
>Speedy rushed to his Dadd- you mean, Master.
>"Howthie! Speak to me Howthie!"
>You may be a wizard, but you were raised Catholic.
>Immediately smirk and give the father-son-and-the-holy-ghost sign.
>"May he rest in p-"
>Howthern coughs, "Cahhhh! Wizard, helpppppp! I can't movvveeee!"
>The joy was sucked straight from your soul.
>"Sonavabitch.”
>The Black Knight resumed their original post.
>"None shall pass."
>You stand from your stump.
>"Twinky, get that bumbling knight onto his horse. I'll deal with this stranger."
>The squire retorts, "It's Speedy, sir. Speedy Gonzal-"
>Howthern interrupts.
>"The horse, boyyyyyyy!"
>"Yes sir!"
>You move to stand in front of the Knight.
>Meanwhile you hear Speedy grunting, trying to get Howthern back onto his horse.
>"I'm not bleeding, boyyyyyyy. That sword is magicallll."
>You and the Black Knight are staring each other down.
>Its so intense, the faint whistling of a harmonica from the Westcouls be heard.
>This intensity was soon broken by Howthern.
>"Come boyyyy. You've taken bigger loads than me on this horsseeee."
>For that brief moment, the Black Knight lost their composure and snickered.
>That was all it took for you, Iwras the Irregular, to bonk the Knight on the helm with your hand.
>Without missing a beat, you say, "We shall pass."
>The Black Knight seemed not to even notice.
>"None shall pass."
>You grab onto the horse's reigns, "None shall pass, you say? Is that true? That only none will pass?"
The Black Knight cleared their throat, "Yes, None shall pass."
>"That's good then," you say, "My name is None, so I must pass."
>"None shall-" The Black Knight froze.
>It seemed as if the Black Knight never thought that such a situation could ever occur.
>Until now.
>The Black Knight fell to their knees, stunned in disbelief.
>"You...you're None?"
>You, Iwras the Irregular, walked past the defeated Black Knight, drawing Howthern's horse along.
>"Yep. Totally."

. . .

>Some time had passed since that confrontation.
>You and your unfortunate compatriots have made it to your destination.
>The Castle of Anthrax.
>While there is an actual castle, its more like a large city.
>It has everything a regular 10th century, peasant town needs.
>Piss on the streets.
>Dead people carried away on carts.
>A citizen screaming how they're being repressed.
>Pamphlets detailing the tourist destinations.
>Lovely.
>Howthern was perched in the saddle with the twink closely guarding his Master's rear.
>"Wizardddddd! Me and Speedy here will go to deliver the Holy Maillllll. Where shall we-"
>You start walking away.
>"Meet me at the bar, you fruity kinnigget."
>The closest pigsty, or better known as tavern, was called the Horny Toad.
>Had something to do with the city's... what did they call it? Foot-ball?
>The bartender gave you water.
>No coin yet for actual booze, and you still have a tiny sliver of dignity to not use your Jedi- you mean, Magic on him.
>You start to recall the recent events of that day.
>You're name, of course, is Iwras the Irregular, and not 'None'.
>However, now that you and your companions succeeded in crossing, its fair to say the Knight was more stupid than Howthern.
>Something you wouldn't have thought possible.
>Yet one more thing to add to the every growing list of fea-
>"None! None! Wizard thou art None!"
>You spit out water in the ritualistic fashion, as the Black Knight stands before you once again.
>"I won't have any trouble here, Knight, for I am already past your keep. Admit your loss and move on."
>You can't really do Magic.
>Physically speaking, you can, but you've been so irritated and sickened by your companions, you're having trouble getting it up.
>Metaphorical Magic Dystfunction, I guess you'd call it.
>Meanwhile, back to the task at hand, The Black Knight's squeaks, "I...I graciously admit defeat to you, Sir None."
>You're still stuck on the fact the Knight squeaked.
>So you're not fully paying attention when they remove their helmet to reveal a fire-kissed woman with bright red hair.
>When the realization finally hits, you, Iwras the Irregular, thought you were in a Pantene commercial.
>"Now.. that thou hath defeated me, you must take me as your lawfully wedded wife, for that’s my people’s custom when we are defeated in-“
>Backtrack.
>"Excuse me! I’m sorry ma’am, but you aren’t really my type, if I do say.”
>She sits down beside you.
>”Pray tell me, what is your type?”
>Discomfort sets in.
>Hello Darkness my old friend...
>”I-I prefer the lithe and nubile girls of youth. Ones that have yet to attain the right of womanhood, but still nonetheless attractive and so on...”
>She gets slightly closer, "I... Don’t let this armor fool you my love, I’m very lithe and nubile if only you may see...”"
>Something about this sounds all to familiar.
>And your suspicions are correct, as for the first time, you notice there is a tail behind her.
>Correction: the tail was connected to her.
>Her tail...
>”Ma’am, I am obviously a traveling man, and only wanted to cross into town. Don’t you think it’s a bit...excessive to say I defeated you in anything other than mortal combat?”
>”Not at all, my love. You have bested me in my attempt to remove you from your path. Even if it my be a small victory, it is in fact a victory.”
>This is not how you, Iwras the Irregular wanted to go out.
>50 years of wizardry down the drain cuz of a tanned woman with a tail.
>You’re not cut out for suburban life.
>There are worse things to lose your life to.
>You recall one fellow that was forcibly raped by two hulking women, the size of a tree.
>God bless that man’s pelvis for lasting as long as it did.
>”E’cuse me sir and ma’am, may we trouble yer to help settle our d’spute?”
>For the first time, you find yourself embracing an unwelcome interruption.
>Two men walked up to your table, one carrying a bird cage.
>The other seemed to be a merchant.
>”Sir,” said the merchant, “I emplore you, please tell this man tha this is n’deed an African Swallow.”
>The customer holding the cage is more than a little frustrated.
>"You told me it was a European Swallow, when you sold it to me. But by this point, it don’t matter, ya bloomin’ onion sucker!
>He held up the cage to eye level.
>"This bird is a bloody stiff! It’s deceased! Dead! Past it’s point of expiration!”
>The merchant scoffed.
>"It's not dead. It just finished shaggin' a big score an' is all peckered out!"
>The Black Knight stepped up and looked at the cage.
>You, Iwras the Irregular, must make a mental note to learn her name.
>Because saying/writing 'The Black Knight' is tiring and bothersome.
>"It's neither type of Swallow, I'm afraid."
>The men both squint.
>"What!?"
>"This is a Norwegian Blue Parrot...you can tell because its: A) a parrot, and B) its blue."
>The men were in disbelief, whereas you're just crestfallen at how much time this just wasted.
>She put her hand on her sword.
>"I have settled your dispute. Please leave before you cause my Master anymore irritation."

. . .

>It had now been two more hours since Sir Dumbstick and Suckhead had gone off to deliver the Holy Mail.
>Much to the precious few remains of your joy, you Iwras the Irregular, are now drunk.
>The knight introduced herself as Robin of Cumalot.
>Fascinating.
>Robin was kind enough to buy booze for the two of you.
>Inebriation is easy to over come, being Iwras the Irregular.
>But this is some strong shit.
>"So lemme get this straight, Robin...you want...to fuck me and produce strong offspring?"
>She giggled, quite tipsy.
>"Yes! You did uh...defeat me and all so..."
>"But what if Howthern defeated you, huh? You would have ta' fuck that queer bastard?"
>You put down your drink, "Where are those fruity, sausage tossers anyways?"
>Just then, a rouge bar drunk flung his arm onto your shoulder.
>"Aye laddy! Sing us a song! A nice drunkin' song for the boys, eh!?"
>You, Iwras the Irregular, were indeed, drunk, otherwise you wouldn't have obliged.
>"You know wha', I'll do just that!"
>You're day had already been pretty shitty, might as well blow it all to snuff.
>"Alright now men! Follow me...let's see, how does it go...."
>"Harkon ta' me pleasant tale, upon de dusty road
>An' how I made it ta the place, I'm rightly owed
>A tale 'bout the bright green mile
>T'wer a man could wander'n style
>I miss it so, tis dear to me
>Tha' so much yah clearly see
>Come yee er'ebody to the other side
>To da gem te ocean tried t'hide
>Close ye mouth an' rub yur eyes
>Yee set a sail for paradise
>Now e'rebody's here
>Our glasses filled wit' beer
>We'll drink and drink and drink and then we drink some moar
>We'll dance and sing and fight until de early morning light
>T'en we throw up, passout, wake up and start drinkin' like befor'!"
>And the men ran with it.
>Skinny ones, weird ones, and even smelly ones, popped out of their drunken stupor to sing yet another tavern song.
>Robin held her mug in her hand, dancing to the ridiculous sounds of singing drunks.
>You, Iwras the Irregular, take up your mug and lock arms with her.
>You circle and kick your feet, hopping and dancing with your fiery haired partner.
>It might do you, Iwras the Irregular, some good to keep company like this on your travels.
>In the tavern called the Horny Toad, the drunks, the peasants, the merchants, constables, cobblers, and even the pigs in the stable danced to the ridiculous merriment of alcohol and half assed melody.
>Because it certainly wouldn't be a Monty parody without dancing and a musical, right?