The HMS STFU - Pstibbons update

(Anonymous)

Subject:	Pre-emptive apologies for the bad/fake Old English accent.
Link:	(Link)
Time:	2009-06-14 03:49 am (UTC)

“And whose thanes be you?”

The year was 826, and the place was Mercia.

A full moon lit the moor below with a pale, unearthly light. There were only four people unfortunate enough to be out on this night: three young wizards, and one very large warrior.

Two of the wizards were shifting nervously: one, a sallow-skinned man with phenomenally greasy hair, looked about nervously. The other, a girl with patrician good looks and violently intense eyes, was focused on the shirtless, sweat-covered non-magic user in front of them. Their leader's bushy brown hair cascaded over her yellow-and-black Muggle tracksuit. Despite her custom-made Hattori Hanzō katana and vine-wood wand, there was something remarkable hollow about this otherwise fearsome woman.

“We are no one's thanes.” the katana girl spat.

“And what type'o lies is this?” the man shouted, spittle flying everywhere. Æthelred the Weaselly and Well-Bearded, Thane of Hrothgar the Wrathful, slayer of Norsemen and other demons, was the type of man who tended to generate a lot of spittle when he talked. He was also the type of man that no one dared look at crosswise, lest he proceed to rip the offender's head off and spit down their newly ventilated gobs. The parts of his body that weren't covered in battleaxe wounds were marked by arrow holes. The wizards were all in simultaneous awe/fear/heronista-based condescension of him.

“It's not a lie.” the greasy-haired man said, forcing the words out quickly. “We-we are travelers from the f-future--”

“Shut it, Severus.” the track-suited woman spat.

“Wha' kinda magic is this?” he shouted.

“Damn it, Hermione” the other woman muttered. “Taranis' sweaty testicles, I knew this wouldn't go well.”

Æthelred blinked.

“Wha' did you say?” he shouted. “Taranis? Wha' kinda dark gods do ye worship?”

“Oh good job, Bella.” Hermione shouted. “Now he's going to use all his dark heronista powers to make sure we never vote Lib Dem again!”

“I'm not sure what you're talking about--” Severus started, but was cut off by a loud roar from Æthelred.

“IN THE NAME OF GOD THE ALMIGHTY AND MERCIFUL” he screamed, almost taking off his beard with his axe, “I'LL TAKE OFF YOUR HEADS AND STICK 'EM ON THE TALLEST POLLS IN THIS LAND!”

“Time to use some magic, Hermione...”

“CRUCIO!”

Hermione's spell re-bounded off of Æthelred. He took the opportunity to start charging at the wizards.

“Why isn't the curse stopping him?!” Hermione shouted.

“Must be some kind of berserker rage.” Snape replied, staggering backwards from the advancing Angle/Saxon madman. “Granger, what are you going to do?”

“...I'll take him down the hard way.”

And with that, Æthelred sprung into the air and brought down his axe—only for it to meet Hanzo steel. The two dueled for hours, neither one gaining the advantage. At the end, when both combatants were tired, and their sweat had sunken so deep into the soil such that it might be used one day by hags to cure obscure poisons, Draco Malfoy arrived.

He was stark naked, and was riding on a flying dolphin.

“...Hermione?”

“...”

“...Hermione!”

“...Yes, Ron?”

“Would you ever go back in time to try and kill my great-great-great-great ancestor?”

“...Did you have another nightmare?”

“Do you think Malfoy really has a flying dolphin? And that he would ever take his kit off and ride around on it?”

“...Oh god, I'm so sorry...”

“I'll just go for some water.”

As Ron lifted himself out of bed, Hermione shifted uneasily. This had been the third night in a row Ron had these dreams—last night, the dream-Hermione had forced Ron to perform oral sex on himself. Being woken up at one in the morning was no cakewalk, but the nightmarish hellscapes Ron kept finding himself in were the most horrifying thing.

And somewhere, off in the distance, a roar of victory erupted across the landscape. And then a thick, hacking noise, as though someone was bringing up some spittle.

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June 5th, 2009

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