Cast thine eyes, oh faithful reader, upon this these words chronicling the Chronicles of the Knights of the Quest for Questlandia and their fateful pilgrimage to that most chivalrous of symposiums, the Greater Opa-Locka Science Fiction and Fantasy Convention:
With the heaviest of jolts did Travis, older brother of King Kyle “the Awesome”, bring the royal carriage to halt.
“You and your loser friends get the fuck out,” the king’s kin did demand, “No way I’m being seen at this freak fest.”
To this the noble King Kyle did respond, “Thou dost forget thyself in front of thy king. But since thou art kin, we are but loin-fruit of the same vine, I shall let thee off with a warning.”
Removing his rhinestone-encrusted glove, the mighty Questlandian monarch did be-slap his boorish brother astride the visage. Then as the Biblical Cain did jealously strike down his brother Abel, so too did vengeful Travis be-beat and be-bitchslap the bewildered Kyle.
King Kyle, in peril most perilous did implore his noble knights to come to his aid. “Our weapons are in the trunk,” quoth Sir Josh, Level 4 Ranger, “You know I don’t fight without my sword.” “Or without my puffer,” saith Sir Dwayne, Level 3 Mage.
“Or a turn-based hit-point system,” saith I, Sir Scotty, Level 2 Dark Elf and Scribe.
And thus the Knights of the Quest for Questlandia were heroically hurled from Kyle’s mom’s Sedona and cast out into the outer wilderness of the enchanted Opa-Locka Event Center parking lot. There King Kyle did curse the day Mr. Dankowicz bestowed upon him a failing grade in Drivers Ed:
“Fie! Travis, that familial fiend, can have his driver’s license! A real king needs no such permit! A real king has servants to drive him places! He’s just jealous of my magnanimous majesty! Am I right, my low-born subjects, or am I right?”
“I dunno,” quoth Sir Dwaine, “To obtain of oneself such a permit wouldst be pretty yar.”
Agreed Sir Josh, “T’would greatly increase my chances of backseat ballyhoo.”
But not for long were the Knights faint of heart, for they had reached their Promised Land. For it was in this very poured-concrete edifice before them, at this very convention for the exquisite genres of science fiction and fantasy, that the most ingenious and noble of men, the inventor of LARP and founder of InterLARPA, the LARP equivalent of the UN, (I need not even bother mentioning his far-famed name, dear reader, for you surely know it well), “Tibber” Bales himself, would be signing autographs for but a mere pittance of $60 a copy!
“I canst hardly control my mirth,” saith I, “Verily this must be how the popular girls feel on Prom Night!”
“Greater be our glee,” decreed the sovereign, “ for whilst those hottie harlots be depravedly drinking of alcohol and various bodily fluids, we shall be slaking our thirst of the manliness of ‘Tibber’ Bales!”
Sally forth did the Knights to the convention center entrance. But lo! Blocking their passage was a long labyrinthine line of fellow fantasy fanciers waiting to get inside.
“Fear not that the convention be sold out, my unworthy underlings,” quoth King Kyle, “’Tis why we purchased special VIP tickets from that most honest of craigslist.org vendors, “OtakuTenticle69”, for the paltry sum of $150 each.”
Exclaimed Sir Dwayne, “With these billets we shall cast a Spell of Flight to soar past these Level 1 Peons and gain of ourselves immediate entry to the most choice-iest of attractions!”
Saith Sir Josh, “Ye faith, on this very day shall I profess my most perfect undying love to special guest Katee Sackhoff, the most delicate of starfighting nymphs to ever serve that hallowed Battlestar called Galactica. Perchance thou fancy hearing some of the twenty-and-nine sonnets listing her beauty, composed of myself for this very meeting?”
“Be there any bawdy lyrics?” asked the King.
“’Tis all bawdy lyrics!”
“Pray ye proceed!”
But before the Knights could learn of which word Sir Josh did rhyme with ‘clitoris’, they were brought face to face unto that sinister Cerberus, the gargantuan gatekeeper of the hallowed Opa-Locka convention center.
Ask of them did he to see their tickets. Produce the tickets did they. Reject the tickets did he. “Forged billets are these,” saith he. Bar their entry did he.
“Thou dost forget thyself in front of thy king,” quoth King Kyle as he removed his rhinestone-encrusted glove.
“Look, your worshipfulness” bellowed the gatekeeper, “Thou art not the sole ‘king’ at this symposium. Many a so-called ‘king’ doth wait in line whilst thou dost carry on thusly. Many a so-called ‘king’ who didst purchase of himself legitimate tickets. Now get thee gone, ye king of LARPing losers, before thou angerest me such that I speak not with ye olde speech but with ye olde boot up thine ass!”
Taken aback and made speechless were the Knights of the Quest for Questlandia. But not so the bold monarch. “Were I armed,” saith King Kyle with fists a-clenched, “I wouldst warn thee to prepare to taste the foam of my manly blade.”
“Art thou coming onto me?” asked the gatekeeper.
“Coming onto thee with a FLURRY OF FISTINGS!”
Short was the melée but many were the bruises that Kyle did bravely sustain. And so forever banishéd were the Knights of the Quest for Questlandia from the Greater Opa-Locka Science Fiction and Fantasy Convention.
“Thou art lucky, knavish brute,” warned the bruiséd Kyle, “thou wouldst scarcely stand a chance were our duel to employ a turn-based hit-point system.” Made silent was the gatekeeper. He merely rolled his eyes and looked away. Though they would neither meet their savior, “Tibber” Bales, nor proposition the fair Katee Sackhoff, the Knights knew they had won of themselves a moral victory.
Bravely did the Knights of the Quest for Questlandia make their glorious retreat from the convention center parking lot. And they did curse the name of ‘OtakuTentacle69’, if that even is his real name!
And lo! The royal carriage, Kyle’s mom’s Sedona, did appear! Drive by them did the carriage, carrying Travis and his minions. And from that carriage was thrown a volley of soiled diapers.
Run for cover did the courageous Knights.
In the fog of flight did Sir Dwayne (and NOT I as the other Knights attest) knock Kyle to the ground. And on Kyle’s face did many a soiled diaper land.
Declared Travis, “That’s my shit in your face, brah!”
With be-feces’d face Kyle did think unto himself, Such insolence! If only this skirmish did employ a turn-based hit-point system!
Asked Sir Josh unto Kyle, “Perchance thou wouldst fancy another sonnet?” Asked Kyle, “Dost thou ever rhyme ‘Starbuck’ with the f-word?” “In every one, my liege…”
Here endeth the chapter.
Coming Soon! It’s the greatest East vs. West rivalry since Rocky IV! The intrepid Knights battle a band of anime cosplayers—who plan to tear down the youth center! What will go in its place? One of those Japanese-style diners where all the waitresses dress like French maids? All this in Chapter IV: 逆襲 ! 殺人拳 VS 殺人拳 激突！ (Translation: Revenge! Happy-Go-Lucky LARPers vs. Satanic Cosplay Warriors: Greatest Decisive Battle on Earth!)