Chauceresque Tale (non *BDL)

[HypnoToad]

This a tale I did for a school project, it is pretty funny at times. I was the prioress, as myself playing the prioress. like the cantebury tales.

Prioress’ Prologue

The Wife of Dublin’s tale was over and to much applause she took her bow.

“Twas a fine tale,” piped the magister, “But it is very unlikely that a lowly pig-keeper would be bestowed with a duty such as that. It does not follow the ideas of the great philosophers, but compares well with the classics of Rome and Greece.”

“Smash’ed doors… enough not,” stammered the miller under the effects of extreme intoxication.

“Ak! I ‘gree wit Wæburh, wit all doze warriors, t’ere should ‘ave been more violence!” exclaimed Sæwaeld, while shaking his axe.

The Prioress whapped the blood-thirsty shipman with her yardstick, Sæwaeld was taken aback by her actions, sneered at her and damned the piece of wood under his breath, so as not to invoke another attack. “Violence be not the answer always, I applaud the Wife of Dublin’s tale, for its morals were good and true, for one’s greatest strength is his belief in himself and what story would it be if it did not show the importance of self-sacrifice.”

The Prioress began gesticulating wildly with her stick, the shipman eyed it intently.

“But of what interests are tales if they are always about the protagonists’ outstanding deeds, for wouldn’t The Lord want us to see the humiliation of the antagonist so as to be wary of our ways,” the stick stopped for a moment and the Shipman saw this as his chance, he ripped the stick out of her grasp and snapped it in half. Sæwaeld, zealous for having accomplished his mission, beamed widely, only to be hit by yet another yardstick.

“This is all very true,” stated the magister, ecstatic to have someone to match his intellect, “But do you have such a story to tell us.”

“Does a woman go into labor and not deliver? What type of man would I be if I did not prove what I speak? For, in fact, I do have a tale to be told, it is of a pirate captain and his fall to a young squire.”

Prioress’ Tale

There was once a pirate captain, who stood tall, sinned frequently and spoke with an accent that was completely incomprehensible to anyone besides his crew. He sailed the frigid seas of the north, where the booty is low and the towns far and few between, for what reason, it is still unknown. He was somehow very charismatic, even though he could barely communicate through words, but then again, he usually let his axe do the talking. He was considered to be a great warrior, perhaps even a son of Odin. This pirate was called Seawhale.

The captain, although, was not the greatest navigator, or captain at that, and without his crew he’d be completely worthless. He said that he knew the charts like the back of his hand. Apparently he didn’t know the back of his hand too well, because the crew banned him from touch the wheel ever again. His battle tactics were a few stones short of what could resemble soup. He would gather his troops up late at night and march them to the outskirts of town, whence he would charge the town yelling at the top of his lungs, instead of quietly plundering the town. He had a very simple routine to his life: rape, pillage and plunder, although not necessarily in that order.
Our story begins with Seawhale in the King of Trondheim’s court…

“Threll ungh nic tempo thay.”

“Excuse me, but what did you say,” inquired the king, who was tied up at the moment.

“Threll ungh nic tempo thay,” repeated Seawhale rather frustrated with his royal captive.

“Can anyone tell me what this man is saying?”

A short balding man spoke up, “He said, ‘Tell us where the treasures lie’.”

“Is he even speaking English?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah o’ course he is.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I swear to you he is, just ask him yourself, isn’t that right Seawhale?”

“Eks smoo.” announced the captain reassuringly.

“For some reason I don’t quite believe you.”

“Anyway, answer the question!”

“Oh, what, right, well the thing is… we don’t have any.”

“Don’t have any? But you’re the King of Trondheim; you own huge tracts of land and collect money from all of the surrounding towns.”

“Well I have to give that money to someone else and that person gives it to someone higher, it’s not a simple as I own all the land and they give me money. Do some research sometime and figure out what you’re talking about.”

With the captain thoroughly confused by why the city he plundered had no money he moved on. Soon after this failure of an attempt of piracy, news spread of this like wildfire. The news spread far and wide, and eventually to a young squire, no older than 16 years, heard of this event. The young squire believed that he could easily overcome such a pirate, for he was well learned in the art of tactics.

The boy traveled north by horse, until he reached a small town. He, then, spread rumors of how this town had vast amounts of treasure and waited a fortnight for the pirates to come. And within that fortnight, the pirates they did come. It was at night he waited out on the shore, for the pirates to charge the town. Upon their vessel he did stow himself, waiting for when the pirates did return, from forgotten hopes and smashed dreams.

“Avast, ye pirate filth,” shouted the boy with, of course, sword drawn.

Seawhale, knowing this all too well, had drawn his axe.

“Did you say man back there,” says the miller, who had sobered up since he spoke before.

“The duel was on and they both were rotating in a circle... What?” said the prioress, who was quite confused at the moment.

“I said quote, ‘Did you say man back there?’”

“Back where?”

“Just before you started telling your tale.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said and I quote, ‘What type of man would I be if I did not prove what I speak?’”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

“Prioress, finish your tale, no matter how ill construed its plot is or how much it lacks transition.” said the magister, quite disappointed in the tale.

The young squire fought Seawhale, managing to knock him off of the ship and into the mouth of a crocodile. Although, how a crocodile was in the frigid seas of the north confounded several people.

Prioress’ Epilogue

All agreed the prioress’s tale was the worst so far, but the shipman was most annoyed.

“How dought you dizgrace a son of Odin like t’at,” expressed the shipman angrily as he charged the Prioress.

With infeminine strength, the Prioress hurled the half-drunk miller at the shipman. The shipman who hath been charging, slumped to the ground with a slight thud as the miller ricocheted off of him and into the door of a nearby cottage.

[ayanna]

It needs to be longer! Just when it was getting interesting...it stopped!

Well done, tho'...enjoyed it immensely!

[PyramidHead]

What ayanna said, its too short and ended when it was getting interesting

either way, good job