Chepooka, a LISPA piece

Final solo presentation piece:

My name is Rupert, messenger son of Robert, of House Penkiller to the kingdom of Mile End. Bearing urgent news to King William of the neighbouring allied kingdom of Stratford, me and my more hesitant companion, Ser Alan Parrish, were attacked in the woods by armed bandits of the notorious Three Mills clan.
Alan: Rupert, will you shut up? The tribesmen in these vast woods might hear you.
Rupert: If I’m going to die, I might as well die with a song in my heart, Alan.
Alan: I should just take your food and leave you here.
Rupert: I’ll starve most likely.
Alan: You don’t think I’d do it, don’t you?
Rupert: What do you want, Alan? Gold? Women? Gold and women? Stick with me and you’ll have them all for as long as I’m around and not a moment longer. But you knew that. That is why you so valiantly took up arms to defend my honour.
Alan: Fair enough. But don’t go looking for me to bend the knee and will lower you every time you take a shit. I’m not your shield and I’m not your friend.
Rupert: Too bad, I would have treasured your friendship. And if the day comes that you will sell me out, know this. Whatever the price, I’ll pay double. I like living and I intend to do just that.

We marched onwards until the end of day. We had to make camp in the middle of nowhere. Alan had to hunt beasts for food while I catch forty winks on the rough floor of the forest earth. I was awakened shortly after by Alan’s nervous whispering of my name.

Alan: Rupert! Rupert, wake up!
Rupert: Come, share our fire! Help yourselves to our meat!
Clan Leader: When you meet your gods, tell them Peter Shepherd, son of Judy Shepherd, of the Three Mills, sent you.
Rupert: I am Rupert, son of Robert, of House Penkiller.
Peter: How would you like to die, Rupert, son of Robert?
Rupert: In my own bed. At the age of 80. With a belly full of wine and a girl’s mouth around my cock.
Peter: Take the jester and kill the other one.

We were on a dire disadvantage, me and Alan. I knew I had to do something if we were to survive. I had to break free from the shackles that prohibit me my full potential. I have a secret that only a few know. I am left with little choice but to use it. I have with me the sigil of Tesco. The same sigil that hangs around my neck. Crafted by the great, white sorcerer, Ilan, during the War of the Old Kings, it is used to harness one’s inner potentials. In order to release that insurmountable power held within, I must sacrifice and embrace the decimation of life around me. I have no choice. I have no choice.


The sigil was burning hot like fire.


I woke up to the smell of burning flesh. I open my eyes to the wake of destruction that even generations yet unborn would cry out in anguish. Ser Alan himself was a victim of circumstance. Our companionship may have been short-lived but he will live on in memory. Left with but an ounce of energy, I persistently moved on and was able to reach the Regal Opera Houses in Stratford in time to have an immediate audience with the king.

William: I see you’ve already made quick use of what was left of your talents with the sigil of Tesco.

The king was a flambouyant man and one could easily question his sexuality, but none have ever had the audacity to confront him about it.

Rupert: Yes, Your Highness. But I only did what was necessary.
William: We could have used it. But very well, let’s just carry on. I believe you have something to impart.
Rupert: I bring to you the prophecy of Verwirrung.
William: Speak.

Popular posts from this blog

And then...

Strange Fruit

Question the necessity of sobriety