After vanquishing the wantons of West Bromwich, the knights and their Duke travelled back to Arsenalia singing victory war songs…
The Knights of Arsenalia:
“Lord Tomas Rosi-cky he scores when he wants (He scores when he wants)
The enemies go “oh lala!” when he splits them up (When he splits them up)
He hangs their bowels at the gates, and crows chew ‘em up (And crows chew ‘em up)
Lord Tomas Rosi-cky he scores when he wants; when he wants! When he wants!!!”
The army arrived Arsenalia amidst joyful shouts and celebrations. Soon there was partying and dancing and the like.
Lord Walcott: Ah! Lord Rosicky! I hear you had ‘em by the thousands! Decapitating the foot soldiers of the wantons wantonly.
Lord Rosicky: Aye, I still am much surprised at my inert strength me lads.
Lord Ox: Lord Walcott, you needed to see how he shredded wanton Ben Foster’s pants.
*Cringe*
Duke Wenger: Now, now, let’s not go there Oxlade me boy; that’s a pretty sensitive topic. Yes, I must say, Lord Artets set-up for our forward cavalry changed the battle huge-ethly.
Lord Artets: I’m much obliged me Duke.
Esquire Afobe runs in… (Yes, I know we’re all tired of Afobe running in but a dude’s gotta do what a dude’s gotta do)
So, Afobe runs in *wink*
Lord Artets: (Murmuring) Por Dios mio, este chico tiene que ser enstrangulado/By my gods, this kid needs to be strangled.
Esquire Afobe: My Duke, the nasties of Norwich approach our borders! Their leader nastier de Hughton has joined the sorcerer Ferguman’s campaign to thwart our quest for the Chalice Louise.
Duke Wenger: Lords Nacho, Rosicky and Mert, stay at the palace gates with your men and protect those within its walls! Lords Wilshere, Verm, Giroud… you all know yourselves! Come with me!
And so they entered their formation and met the nasties right at the borders of Arsenalia. Nasty Turner ran in and took a swipe at Lord Fabianski, it caused but a chink in his armour. The nasties of Norwich seemed to have the upper-hand for a while…methinks it was the Budweiser and Heineken Lord Mert and Poldi supplied for the victory ‘pahry’ (party).
Duke Wenger: (Thinking) it seems that beer from the victory party makes Lord Gervinho see nothing but forehead at the moment. He fails to give a killer blow to the enemy… Where’s my armour bearer… Count Bouldie!
Count Bouldie: Yes my Duke, behold I am right behind thee.
Duke Wenger: Yes, Count, take Lord Gerv, Wilshere and Sagna with you; let them get some rest and help those at the gates. Bring with you Lords Walcott, Poldi and newly knighted Ox. We need to hit the nasties harder. Be quick!
Soon, Lords Poldi, Walcott and Ox arrive and the battle turns on its head, it was nothing like ever seen before. The magic flying boots of Lord Walcott helped him speeds through the ranks of the foot-soldiers of the nastiers, tearing them apart as he sped through…
Lord Ox: Hey, Walcott, could we exchange one foot of our boots? Methinks I need me some speed.
Lord Walcott: Promise not to fill it with beer and drink from it after the battle, my feet stink.
Lord Ox: *Smells the boot* Urrrgh!
Lord Walcott: What? Ye wanted speed; the stench is a small price to pay.
And so the battle continued. Lord Artets drove one through the heart of the nasties frontline while with the help of Lord Walcott’s speed boot, Lord Ox tore through the backline of the nasties, gifting Lord Giroud space to cut down nasty de Bunn. Lord Walcott did the same, this time gifting Lord Poldi the chance to take a swipe at the already bleeding nasty de Bunn. With that, the nasties took to their heels. Victory!
The knights: Victory!!!
Esquire Afobe: (Looking unsurely at Lord Artets) err… D-Duke, err…, well, you see…, the thing is…
Duke Wenger: Speak up my boy! Fear not Lord Artets, he’s just a human tired of fighting senseless battles with our senseless foes.
Esquire Afobe: (Swallows) Err… Sir, Duke, the Evertorian Count Moyes sent a messenger with this note.
The Duke takes the note and reads…
To whom it may concern.
I know we might sometimes have armies of equal strength and we might sometimes hold the same values. Sometimes battles need not be fought as sometimes the losses incurred would be unnecessary. Sometimes… forgive my ‘sometimes’
What I’m trying to say here Duke Wenger is that a battle with your army would cost us more than it’ll profit us. You have the African with the forehead and I have the Belgian with the forest-hair. You have the terminator’s cousin, the verminator and I have the Dark Knight Banes half-brother- Leighton Baines. We could ultimately do ourselves more harm than good.
We have a common enemy – Sorcerer Ferguman – who wants neither of us in the quest for the Chalice Louise. And I want it almost as bad as you do.
I say let’s make-th a truce. We will both not draw swords against each other; it saves us time, energy, men, beer and roasted pork.
Remember, in war, you have no permanent enemies or friends, only permanent interests.
Till the next full moon,
Count David Moyes.
Duke Wenger: Hmmm… I guess he has a point. I see our chance to acquire the Chalice Louise get closer. Let’s prepare for the fumblers of Fulham, we have some unfinished business. We leave in 2 days.
Lord Artets: Courage my friends! Dare to dream!
