Game of Throws
It was warm. Too warm. He knew what was in store. Could feel it in his bones. Winter is coming.
Lord Babers stood high atop Mt. Olympus, surveying his new domain. Hard times had hit The North. Kal Jimo had been banished from the Melo, soothed only by mint juleps served by his Queen, Julieesi, Mother of Ballers. King Kent and Master Coyle had set Lord Shafer adrift on the Narrow Sea, never to return. It was his time now, to restore the former glory, to regain the greatness.
He had heard all the stories. How Lord Schwartzwalder and his band of warriors, his Legends of 44, Sir Brown, Sir Davis, Sir Little, had won hard fought battles, championships, Heismans. They would forever be immortalized in bronze and stone, in tales of valor and triumph.
How Lord Mac, Gawd love him, had vanquished the Lions and battled the sissy Dyes to a hard fought draw. How Gregory, The Mighty Noseman and Donnie The Brave revived the echoes and slayed the Beasts of the East.
But a lack of vision and preparation had doomed the Orange to a long, 15 year winter, marked by ineptitude, false bravado, depressing platinum robes and endless humiliations on the battlefield. The Orange Army cried out for new leadership, new ways and he would lead the charge.
King Kent and Master Coyle promised him that gold would flow. The Loud Castle would be restored and he could bring with him his trusty lieutenants. His mandate was victory. But how would he accomplish this?
First, he would defend the realm. He knew he could trust Sir JarHeadJim, with his Valerian steel sword in one hand and a hearty ale in the other, to guard The Wall from the Pedophiles of the Valley and the Wildlings of the Jersey Swamps.
Second, he would go on an offensive, the likes of which had never been seen on The Hill. He closed his eyes and visualized it all. The Loud Castle is filled. The noise is deafening. Relentless. Faster than you’ve ever seen. Sir Bees, Lady Legacy, Sir Tomcat, Sir Otto, cheering their victory. Orangeyes rooting from on high, where the vale of Onondaga meets the eastern sky. His Varsity bannermen flipping the colors of another vanquished foe. Tubas blaring the victory song, the Orange faithful in wild celebration.
Lord Babers opened his eyes and smiled a knowing smile. He knew what was in store. Could feel it in his bones. Wins are coming.
