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!)

It pains me to write this letter, but I fear I no longer have any choice in the matter. I simply cannot stand idly by while our guild is destroyed by certain members’… INDISCRETIONS. I won’t name names, but the guilty parties know who you are. It is my hope that this missive will help turn our noble guild from the shameful path it has started down.

Suffice it to say, when I started this LARPing group, I had high hopes. The highest, in fact. No longer would I be openly mocked and treated like an underling of the Dread Lich Necrophaggrost. No longer would I cower like a peasant whenever the free period bell would ring, day after interminable day. No, I was destined for better things! I knew we LARPers were not to be mocked for our differences!

I knew, even then, that if we could only organize, the Greater Opa-Locka LARPing community (OPA-LARPA) would become a force to be reckoned with, on par with the Azure Knights of Cetheria, or even Biff Bronson’s gang of marauding urban toughs. It wasn’t easy, convincing those fools from the Questlandia group to join us, but my knack for diplomacy was an invaluable tool. And I was right, my brothers. For a time we knew such a golden age, the gods themselves wouldst have thought themselves atop Olympus.

But, my brothers, we grew complacent in our strength. What once would have been grounds for exile became routine. I can still remember the time Mort brought that girl to our town hall meeting! Surely he did not think this blasphemy through, as the meeting rapidly dissolved into boasts of battle prowess, bewildered protests, and defiant pants-wetting.

And then there was the time Kyle’s mom bought him a PS3 and what can only be called a MUTINY was the result when I LIGHTLY SUGGESTED that the Xbox 360 was the superior console. I don’t care what you plebians actually believe, when your Guildmaster expresses an opinion, you better frigging get ready to agree, or find yourself face to face with a level 18 Cave Jelly!

When I run a LARP, my brothers, I do not wish to see an Elf of Valandriel TEXTING on his BlueBerry, EVEN is that BlueBerry is modded to resemble the royal star-fruit of the Valandriel Queen. I do not wish to see someone who CLEARLY does not deserve the honor of roleplaying a Lizardman CONVERSING IN THEIR OUT-OF-CHARACTER VOICE to some Frisbee-obsessed collegiate Neanderthal WHILE A MAJOR POLITICAL STRUGGLE is taking place in the Capital (the old swingset by the creek – or don’t you traitors remember?!).

But the straw that broke the griffin’s back really came when Josh suggested that things might have been better under King Kyle of Questlandia! What the everloving heck, mister?! Do you have no mind for history?! Do you not remember the Dark Ages when we LARPers were being mocked left and right, and swirlied up and down!? No, say I, King Kyle is happy working the night shift at the SaversMart, and there in shameful exile he shall remain.

At the end of the day, my fellow LARPers, I work hard – harder then you know – to create a cohesive world of adventure and magic. The fact that you simpletons cannot commit yourselves fully to my vision besaddens my heart, and besmirches not only the honour of the guild, but LARPing itself.

This Saturday, if it doesn’t rain, we will embark on the second chapter of my grand plan for OPA-LARPA, which will serve to separate the wheat from the chaff within our ranks. We will assemble not behind the elementary school, but behind the HIGH school. Verrily, Joe Rogan Secondary. And even if their championship ball hockey team is holding practice on the blacktop, we WILL complete the Battle of Ungoroth, which was abandoned last weekend when those guys threw yogurts at us.

This time, there will be no retreat. This time, we will proudly hold our foam aloft and stand our ground. And those who don’t may consider their membership terminated, as well as their account on the vBulletin message board.

Now, who wants Denny’s?

With heavy heart did King Kyle lament, “Alas, these be dark days for the Knights of Questlandia. T’was not but half a fortnight since we were banishéd from our hallowed headquarters, the cafetorium at Joe Rogan High. The evil Principal Ballstein has rescinded our status as official school club. He doth question the educational value of LARP! ‘Tis verily clear he hath never had to tangle with a Level 12 Cave Troll.”

And LO! Among the knights was there an uproar of laughter and shouts of “Aye!”

King Kyle didst continue, “A pox upon his house! Sir Dwayne, doth think you could employ your powers as a Level 4 Mage to cast a spell of poxiness on Lord Ballstein? What do you mean you don’t have enough Manna? All you do is chant some mock Latin and throw a beanbag at him. That’s the spell! That’s every spell! It’s not rocket science, it’s magic for fuck’s sake!”

Just thence did Sir Josh the Ranger return from deed most dangerous, reconnaissance of their former stronghold. “My liege,” quoth Sir Josh, “Our cherished cafetorium is now under the ruinous rule of the Drama Club for the fell purpose of rehearsing their upcoming production.”

Asked King Kyle, “Can namest thou the play?”

Proclaiméd Sir Josh, “Breakfast Club: The Musical.”

Despite his love for the films of John Hughes and all things Molly Ringwald, the haughty Sir Dwayne didst exclaim eagerness to engage the dreadful Drama Club in combat. “Nay,” did King Kyle sigh, “we shan’t meet them in battle. They have better swords than us. Mayhaps we wouldn’st need worry about such things if someone could just cast the right spell when asked of him!”

And so the noble Knights of the Quest for Questlandia did resign themselves to their new headquarters, Meatman’s Meatery, renowned throughout the land for their Testy Award-winning Chili Cheese Fries.

When didst the lovely serving wench beseech the Knights to order, spoke the kindly King Kyle, “Away with thee, harlot! It is not food for which my knights hunger. Fetch me another free draught of water.”
“I could actually go for the Herky Jerky Dried Meat Platter,” sayeth Sir Dwayne.
“You’ll eat when I see some pox,” decreed the King.
“You’ze orderin’ or not?” spoketh the wench.

Then did I, Sir Scotty, Level 2 Dark Elf and Scribe, make inquiry of the vegetarian menu. But alas, Meatman’s Meatery had none. Ordered I another free water.
Quoth Sir Josh, “Perchance a flagon of ale to slake my royal thirst?”
Doubting the agedness of young Sir Josh and the accuracy of his ID, the wench did make haste for the manager.

And LO! Thrown open were the great double doors of Meatman’s Meatery. In marched an invading army of sweat-clad ogres. The Joe Rogan High Wrestling Team.

Rudely and roughly did the horde traverse past our table. Lacking all decorum and honour did one roguish grunt slam elbow into the head of His Royal Majesty, knocking the Questlandian crown from his noble brow.

“Thou dost forget thyself,” declared King Kyle to the impudent ogre. This ogre then made turn his head to face the bravely quivering king. He was called Buck Langhorn, wrestling team captain. And behold! Next to him was a familiar female face. That of Yolanda. Kyle’s former Queen.

Taken aback was the King that his Queen had found someone new so soon.
Quoth Yolanda, “Buck doesn’t spend all his time with his immature loser friends playing this lame-o r-tard game.”
“But my Queen,” repliedeth King Kyle, “I only embark upon these campaigns for you and for the GLORY OF QUESTLANDIA!”
Unimpressed, the former Queen of Questlandia didst say, “Enough of this pathetic make-believe shit.” Then walked off did she with her burly beau.

Raising high Excalliburus Awesomus, fabled sword of the Kings of Questlandia, Kyle did proclaim to Buck Langhorn, “Thou hast bewitched mine Queen with thine hunkiness. By the Hammer of Hephaestus, I challenge thee!”

A prodigious duel did then proceed. Kyle made many a sword swing and struck many a hit point against the odious ogre.
Questioned Buck, “What the fuck kind of dude fights another dude with a foam sword?”
Then out of Kyle’s hand the sword was ripped. A flurry of punches followed.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” shouted the King Kyle the brave, “You gotta wait your turn to strike again! Clearly thou dost not know N.E.R.O. rules LARP!”
Continue did the punches.
“You can’t – You can’t – Disqualification! I win by disqualification!”

Enter did the manager. And so were the Knights of the Quest for Questlandia and the Joe Rogan High Wrestling Team forever banishéd from Meatman’s Meatery.

Yet still continue did the punches.

Pleaded Kyle, “Loyal knights, a little help here.”

Into the melée threw Dwayne a beanbag, chanting “Infirmus es, furcifer!” It did strike Kyle in the head.

Implored Kyle, “Sir Bobby, Royal Scribe of the Knights of the Quest for—I swear to God, stop writing this all down! It’s embarrassing!”

For posterity’s sake continued I in writing.

When endeth the battle, declared Yolanda, “Oh Buck, you’re so sexy when you beat on the defenseless.”
Off walked the ogre and his queen whilst the noble King Kyle returned his tattered paper crown to his regal brow. With his royal hands he wiped the royal tears from his eyes. With his royal sleeve he wiped the royal snot from his nose.
Inquired Sir Dwayne, “How ‘bout that spellcasting, my liege?”
Replied the kindly King, “Fuck off.”

Here endeth the chapter.

Coming Soon! The intrepid Knights battle their bitter rivals, the Guild of Morningwood, for LARPing rights to Knutledge Playground Park, whilst Sir Dwayne doth learn the true meaning of Kwanzaa. All this in Chapter 2: The Kingless Kingdom!