Wikihow: To Slay the Unchaste

Chastity is one of the most important virtues that we as a modern society uphold. It is the very groundwork upon which we build our sense of morality and honor. The unchaste are bereft of integrity and honesty. They are equally as comfortable smothering a babe in its cradle as they are pilfering the goods of a merchant, literally robbing him of his livelihood. A community cannot trust a man or woman who has indulged in extra-marital intercourse. They are, by nature, liars, rapists, murderers, blasphemers, and thieves.

With a threat this grievous lurking beneath the surface of every society, it falls upon the ordinary citizen to rectify this problem before it propagates and threatens to tear our very civilization to pieces. But how does one punish transgressions of this nature?

Step One

First, one must identify the the accused and their gender. Men sport beards and often wear pants, whereas women do not have beards and wear dresses. This is a crucial step, identifying gender is integral to determining how the accused had or was conniving to corrupt your kin and neighbors. Most commonly, unchaste men flaunt their genitals in gourds adorned with runes and gem stones. They are marvelous to behold and, through that means, enchant maidens to bed them. Unchaste women are more diabolical. They pray to devils to empower them with spells that steal the minds of spry young lads and bed them in a most unsavory fashion. Either unchaste men or women despoil maidens and boys with vile sorcery.

Step Two

Once one has identified the gender of the accused, you must detain the offender. If you are a woman detaining an unchaste man, it would be wise to fashion a type of ocular enhancement that does not allow you to see anything below shoulder height (not that a maid would be looking there anyhow, ho ho!). I recommend purchasing a tall hat with a brim, cut eye slits in the part that accommodates ones cranium and pull it down over your eyes so that the brim is below eye-level, thereby obscuring any genital accoutrement that might encourage one to forswear promises of celibacy. If you are a man detaining an unchaste man, take him at the point of a broad sword. If you are a maid detaining an unchaste woman, I would recommend incapacitating her first. This can be done by striking at the temple with an oblong object of at least 30 centimeters and made from either iron or perhaps a rock held in the end of a stocking. Strike true and rapidly if one is interested in encountering the least amount of resistance. It is best if a man does not detain an unchaste woman who wields the power of sorcery, but, if it must be done, do so with at least three members of your local clergy in attendance. You may also want an amulet containing the blood of a mare who has never borne a horseling, for it will ward off feelings of temptation.

Step Three

Once one has the accused in custody, they must be delivered to either ones lord or the clergy. They will be tried and inevitably convicted for their crimes. They must submit themselves to a trial by fire. The very nature of their crimes makes them untrustworthy and therefore unworthy of a trial by water. A sword must be heated in a furnace until it glows hot. The accused must grasp the sword and, as the flesh sears, the lack of godly intervention proves the accused guilty.

Step Four

With the unchaste man or woman proven guilty, it comes time for swift action, not mercy and healing. A knight of high status must plunge his broadsword into the breast of the deviant. A lesser man might not be able to force his blade through the ribcage or, through sheer lack of training, miss the heart. A goodly knight has jacked muscles and a castle-forged sword that will make short work of rib bones and all matter of humors that steel might encounter whilst encroaching upon the heart.

Step Five

When the accused has met their end, sever the head from the body and mount it upon a pike. Let it be a grim reminder to all that forsaking ones morals and turning ones back on the community shall be met with the harshest of retribution.

Tips

• Keep your broad sword sharpened and your hand deft with a blade.
• Marry all you wish to bed.
• Detain the accused while they are sleeping for the least amount of resistance.
• If you are in a lordly position, do not let the peasant men and women of your village mingle.
  

Warnings

• Do not succumb to sins of the flesh, lest you find yourself at the tip of a sword
• Be wary of traps such as pits with no perceivable bottom.

http://www.wikihow.com/Slay-the-Unchaste

Cooking for Maidens

Cooking is a peasants job, there is no denying that, but certain maidens would have their suitors learn to properly prepare a meal. I would sooner put a village to the sword and merely abduct their finest cook, but sometimes that simply is not an option. So, I would like to take this opportunity to share my step-by-step instructions to preparing a meal that will delight any potential spouse.

Cooked Boar:

Step 1- The first step to cooking boar is to acquire a boar. One must set out into the woods with an intrepid band of merry hunters, preferably armed with spears long enough to impale a charging animal and long swords of reliable quality. This process takes some several days, but with the proper knowledge of boar habitation, one can be tracked easily enough. Boars are attracted to blood sacrifices so you may have to slit the throat of a goat or calve in order to convince the woodland spirits that you are worthy of entering into combat with one of their denizens. But I digress, when you finally come upon a boar, ideally, you will plunge your spear into the animals face or heart instantly murdering the animal. If you miss the boar, there's a good chance it will impale you upon its tusks and inflict wounds grievous enough to cause a fairly painful and drawn-out death. One should avoid this as death is undesirable.

Step 2- Once you have a boar carcass in your possession it would be best to return to your castle. This is an interregnum step of sort.

Step 3- Appoint a date with the object of your affection to sup with you.

Step 4- Several hours before your dinner place the boar in a fire. The fire cooks the boar or something. Take the corpse out before it's reduced to ashes.

Step 5- Carve the cooked boar with a knife or equally sharpened piece of steel and place upon a serving platter.

Step 6- Eat your hard-earned food and bed the grateful maiden.

Cooked fish:

Step 1- The first step to cooking fish is to acquire a fish. One must locate a suitable body of water teeming with a myriad of aquatic vertebrates and depart for it with an intrepid band of merry hunters, preferably armed with spears long enough to impale a charging animal and long swords of reliable quality. Fish are in far greater abundance than boars but it would be wise to consider blood sacrifice to ensure the capture of the largest possible fish. One must enter the water with spear and sword and thrust the spear through the face or gills of your quarry and use the sword to defend against treacherous bottom dwelling creatures (krakens, sperm whales, leviathans, etc.). You may only leave the water triumphant. Pro-tip: you may want to do this with haste for humans untainted by black magic cannot breath beneath the surface of water.

Step 2- Return to your castle with your trophy.

Step 3- This time, do not appoint a time to sup with your maid, rather, in the middle of the night, steal into her room and throw a canvas bag over her head. Confine her to a light-starved room for the day and then have a gaoler bring her to your dining room when you're ready. Maidens love surprises.

Step 4- Several hours before your dinner date, place the fish in a fire and allow its flesh to cook or something. This will take an indeterminate amount of time based on your elevation, ventilation, and the amount of wood used in your fire.

Step 5- Carve the cooked fish with a knife or something and place upon a plate, platter, or any receptacle with a depth shallow enough to facilitate supping.

Step 6- Eat the fish and bed the grateful, lusty, maiden.


Cooked Bread:

Step 1- The first step to cooking bread is to acquire grain, or, preferably flour, since bread is derived from flour. Unfortunately, the process involved in producing flour is lengthy and usually involves several months of growing grain and harvesting. Unless you possess infinite patience and enjoy planning your dinner dates well in advance I would suggest a different method. Gather up an intrepid and merry band of hunters armed with long spears, swords of reliable quality, and clad them in plate armour. Lead your band into the field and trespass into the lands of another lord, preferably one that you do not get along with. It is important to send scouts out ahead of your band to locate a village; you must go to this village, steal their flour, burn it to the ground, and slaughter the inhabitants so that no word of your trespass might later incite war.

Step 2- Return to your castle with your flour.

Step 3- The bread making process is somewhat hazy to me, but I imagine it is similar to cooking boar and fish; take the flour and place it in a fire, bread will inevitably result.

Step 4- Serve bread to maiden.

Step 5- Bed maiden.


If you follow these steps, culinary prowess will ensue. Heed my advice, dear reader.

Exotic Pets

My ostrich should have come to me in my 25th year. I was in the midst of a week-long celebratory feast, probably because I won some sort of bad-ass victory over barbarians, when a man from a foreign land told me an enchanting tale of a large, flightless bird. His tale was riveting; the bird was exceptionally dangerous, rather tall, possessed claws that could disembowel a thousand men without dulling, eyes that could set ones soul ablaze, and vestigial wings that could stir up many a dust cloud. They apparently lived in super-colonies on a far-away continent where they traded sugar to the west and gold to the east. I set out immediately from my home and made for the distant lands in the south.

Ostrich's are controlled by a meta-bird that knows the dreams of all. Their link to their hive mind can only be broken by severing the head from the leader of their brood. This leader lives several miles beneath the surface of the earth and is surrounded by legions of their warrior and priest classes. Penetrating the many defenses and traps the birds had created to keep the heart of their colony safe would be a momentous undertaking; I was prepared.

As I made my way south, towards the massive metropolis of the ostrich, I met a traveler. The traveler hailed me from atop my horse, but as I attempted to ignore the otherwise unremarkable visage to my fore, the travelers cloak was shed and a horrible monster emerged. The creature had the head and legs of a goat, the sagging breasts of an overweight, elderly woman, and the body of a man, muscled and be-jacked and tanned. It towered over me and began to ask me riddles. "How does one know what the stars are made from?"
"Easy," I replied, "The stars are merely holes in the sky from which the ring of fire surrounding the Earth is visible."
That gave the beast pause, to which it followed with, "These holes in the sky, could they be the windows of the Gods?"
To this I was outraged, a polytheistic demon? I could not stand for it. I unsheathed my sword and leapt from my horse towards the beast, who was shrinking in fear. The cold steel from my blade plunged into the chest of the heathen; it let out a death rattle and I withdrew my sword. What I was not expecting was the explosive pressure of the blood in its veins, as I pulled out my weapon a blast of blood forced its way out of the wound, drenching a number of people standing nearby; their faces expressed pure horror. I wasn't really in the way, so I was fine. Whatever, I just kept kind of went on my way or some junk. Fuck blood covered peasants.

To make it into the south, one has to cross through a monolithic gate that opens into a mountain pass. The gate is guarded by a large edifice that emits blasts of heat when it senses any foreign presence. The heat is enough to make your eyes bleed. To get past the gate, I went around it. Mountains aren't fucking walls, they're slopes, I just walked around the gate and descended back into the pass; whoever designed that entrance was fucking stupid and should have built a wall. So with that out of the way I continued south.

When I came out of the mountains I met a man who was a snake. I needed to ride upon his boat in order to cross the sea to reach my goal, but I did not trust him. He told me that I would have to pay in order to sail in his ship. "An outrage!" declared I. The mere honor of bearing me in his craft should have been payment enough, but he insisted. I paid him by thrusting my sword into his abdomen and kicked him to the ground where he writhed for several moments before becoming motionless. I did not know how to pilot his water craft, so I rode his bloated corpse across the sea instead. The journey was fraught with peril. Examples of such peril were: large sharks, mermaids that refused to speak my language, the steady decomposition of the man I was journeying upon, my general lack of buoyancy whilst wearing a considerable amount of plate armor, and lusty freebooters of many nations. By the time I reached the shore opposite of the one I departed, there was nary a man beneath me. The body had broken in twain but my immense mental fortitude held it together. As I stepped out onto the foreign shore, the body dissolved into a black mass.

The land I had arrived at was a barren waste. Undulating dunes of sand stretched for as far as I could see. Indeed, it had to be the land that the story teller of yore had described. My goal, although it was not within sight, felt within my grasp. It's difficult to describe because I'm relegated to using metaphors and imprecise language. Essentially, I knew that there was an ostrich around there somewhere. They had to have nested somewhere. I was unable to attach a quantifiable distance that I would need to travel to fulfill my quest, which, in my experience, might irk some, especially those who require very specific itineraries when questing. Nonetheless, I felt as if I were closer to finding an ostrich. I began to walk, a walk that would stretch for several days.

My whims brought me to the peak of one dune. In front of me were more dunes. To my right and left... more dunes. There was fucking sand everywhere. Had I left my beloved home just to trek through a goddamn desert looking for some stupid bird that probably wasn't even that cool to begin with, despite what douchebag storytellers might have you think? Evidently. I began to scream curses, utter profanities, whisper threats. I was emitting all manner of obscenities at nothing in particular. Apparently, even the heavens themselves found my distress alarming, for an apparition descended from the sky and spoke at me:
"Hark, Northfist! Your distress is alarming. What you seek is not in these dunes, it is beyond them. Do not lose hope, fortify your spirit and press forward!"

The apparition seemed to be mocking me. These were all things I already knew. It was evident that what I was seeking was not in the dunes. Nothing was in these fucking dunes. Why the shit would anything want to be there? That would be stupid. Furthermore, if what I was seeking was in fact in said dunes, I would have already found it and departed for my home, rather than spending more time than was absolutely necessary in a godforsaken desert. This spirit was fucking with me, so I just tried to ignore it.

I walked for another day and as the sun reached its apex, a familiar voice once again came upon me:
"Northfist! I implore you to keep on moving through this vast desert. You must not falter in your quest, continue on, your current plight will give way to great rewards!"

The words reminded me of the vague proclamations of soothsayers, with their prophecies so general that they could encompass any possible event yet-to-happen to those they were prophesying. The spirit dogged me for another fortnight plaguing me with cliches and aphorisms that I had heard repeated on the tongues of the "positive thinkers" I had long ago expelled from my realm. My frustration with the spirit gave way to rage. I wanted to stab it a million different ways. I wanted to spill its heavenly ichor upon the ground in front of it's ethereal family. I wanted to stuff the spirits progeny in a burlap sack and drag them behind my horse. I wanted to do unspeakable things, but alas, I could not, for spirits exist in a different plane of existence than man. I had always felt more than mortal, but never had I felt so human as I walked through that desert wishing that I could shed my mortal coil to destroy that damnable spirit.

It was after a fortnight of walking that the thought finally occurred to me; if one could transcend the mortal realm of existence through death, what would be stopping me from killing myself in order to enter the domain of the spirits so that I might destroy this phantom that harassed me? The notion was brilliant, there was nothing stopping me! I unsheathed my sword and plunged it into my heart, much to the dismay of the spirit. As I embraced my shadow, I could feel myself leaving the temporal body that tied me to the mortal realm. I became corporeal, but it did not occur to me that death would try to drag me off to whatever heaven or hell awaited me so soon. He stood above me and declared that I must go with him to which I informed him that I do not take orders. Death was amused and ordered me to follow him. I told him that I was an adult and expected to be treated as such. He was no longer amused and told me that if I didn't want to take orders, I shouldn't have killed myself. I asked him if he wanted to wrestle, but he wasn't really into it and ordered me to follow again. I still didn't want to follow, so I grappled him and brought him to the ground. He was all, "Oh, guy! what choo doing that for?" And I was all, "Submit! Submit!" He submitted and I told him to begone. He didn't really have any other choice because I had him in a really badass hold.

With death gone I wandered the spiritual realm looking for the specter that drove me to suicide. At that point I really could not give a fuck about ostriches. Anyways, I found him outside this food purveyor trying to pick up some spirit babe. His courting tactics were an aberration. I watched him for several minutes and not once did he thrust or gyrate his genitals. I did not believe it was possible for my rage to grow, but I have realized, as I've grown older, that I can often surprise myself. I leapt from the bush where I was hiding and charged. As I was making haste to where he stood, he inquired into my well-being and expressed a certain amount of confusion regarding my death. I was unable to answer him, for I was engulfed with rage. I fell upon him and my hands embraced his throat, throttling the life out of him. The spirit babe stared as I crushed the bastards larynx. Unbeknown to be, she was not staring at the embodiment of my wrath, rather the massive erection I happened to be sporting. Evidently, death had submitted to me so readily earlier because my rage had encouraged my penis to engorge with blood. The girth of the organ was pressed against the small of his back, which made him profoundly uncomfortable.

I wish I could have cut the wraith to pieces with my blade, but strangulation seemed to suffice. As he ceased struggling and as I was finally beginning to experience feelings of elation, the babe spirit jumped upon me and embraced me. She had never had the rogue spirit of a would-be dead mortal man before. We made sex passionately and I masterfully listed off all of my triumphs and vanquished foes. She was impressed.

Leaving the realm of the spirits was merely a matter of threatening the right spirit. The lord of the spirits was a great dragon with one hundred eyes and as many wings. He sat upon a great gilded throne pointing here and there for reasons that were beyond my comprehension. I requested transport back into my mortal body. When the great dragon denied me I began to shout curses at him and I could feel the blood rushing back into my junk as I once again became paralyzed with ire. Unfortunately the dragon was not intimidated, so I was forced to challenge him to an ultimate fight. When the fight began, I forced a balled-up fist down the dragons throat and pulled its lungs out. I held the grizzly trophy about my head and began to wield them, as one would a club, against the dragon, who was now experiencing a rapid loss of consciousness. The dragon slouched over after a brief moment. It was probably dead, I'm not quite sure how spiritual dragons react to having their lungs pulled out. Regardless, a spirit of great magical knowledge came forth and agreed to transport me back into my mortal coil, if only I would stop murdering and spirit-boning all of his spirit-friends and spirit-family. I agreed, reluctantly, but only under the condition that I not be transported back to that desert, rather to the great metropolis where ostriches supposedly lived. He agreed and I found myself quickly losing consciousness.

As I opened my eyes I found myself amongst a mass of birds. They were large and resembled something like a glorified, flightless vulture. Where were the massive man-killing talons, the demonic eyes, the metropolis centered around the meta-bird?! Could these be the ostriches that I had sought for so many months? Indeed, they were. I felt cheated. It was all I could do to stab each one to death before returning home. I slipped into depression for many months. I never listened to stories ever again. My childhood was ruined.

Slaying Usurpers

There is an aforementioned article I penned dedicated to grooming an appropriate heir, but there is no mention of what one should do if conniving and jealous relatives seek to undo years of careful planning on your part. That shall be the topic of this article.

Approximately six months after I first expanded the domains of my father, my uncle, jealous of my feats, hired four barbarians of Varangian descent to drag me from my abode as I slumbered. The men trespassed into my castle and were promptly impaled on a vast iron spike wielded by my anthropomorphic canine companion or they fell into a pit of infinite depth or something. My uncle, foiled, sent another group of assassins, for his coffers are filled with seemingly unlimited amounts of money begotten by ill means which allow him to do things like send multiple bands of assassins. These ones were infinitely more skilled than the clumsy axe-wielding apes from Rus. They drugged me with all manner of herbs and carried me off to my uncles fortress. The bastard demanded that I cede my kingdom, so I shat upon the cobblestone of his floor, accused his wife of adultery, wagged my engorged penis before his squires face, and broke the neck of one of his servants. I was cast into his dungeon for my impressive display of penile defiance.

The dungeon had no perceivable exits, there was a lack of natural light, and I had heard rumors that there was a rancor in the third level. I thought to myself, "Fuck this place." Fuck it indeed! I began to repeatedly kick at the wall and called to the ghosts of my ancestors to empower my appendage that I might break through my fetid enclosure. No ghosts aided me, rather the jailer was roused by my energetic display of wall-kickery and requested that I stop, for it was futile and distracting. I told the man that he was suckled at the bosom of a whore and cast a rock in his direction. Offended by my trespass, he opened the door to my cell, presumably to administer a beating with an iron rod that he was brandishing, but, before he could react, I swiftly began kicking at him, rather than my former target, the wall. Several blows struck him at various points on the leg, shattering the bones, sending fragments about as they exited his body with devastating force. The jailer exploded in a wave of gore and a forceful blast of air. I stood triumphant in the puddle of man that had momentarily threatened to be my foe. The door to my cell stood ajar and I made a most glorious escape! I made for the door that I had been dragged in from and began to seek my uncle.

As I ascended the stairs to the ground floor of my uncles keep, I met a sentry who attempted to bar my passage. I leapt upon his chest before he could brandish his weapon and began to bite at his face, tearing copious amounts of flesh from his cheeks and throat. The sentry proved no match for my powerful mandibles. I stripped a halberd and sword from his corpse and continued my ascent. When I reached the great hall of the ground floor, there was something of a procession passing through. Oblivious to its purpose, I buried the halberd in the chest of the lead maiden and proceeded to run amok for several moments before finding the staircase that I sought. It was unfortunate for several poor souls that they impede my progress, for I raised them above my head, cursed their fathers and cast them to the floor with all the righteous anger that a captured noble might manifest against an enemy. The other inhabitants of the room fled in terror.

I mounted the stairs to the great tower that my uncle resided in running into no trouble as I made my way to the great oak doors that marked the ante-chamber of his bedroom. Standing before the door were the three assassins who had carried me to the castle. The blood-rage that had gripped me only grew more feverish as I grappled with one man, only to throw him through the body of another. The remaining assassin, horrified that I had impaled his comrade with his other comrade attempted to flee, but I was upon him like a gull on the lunch of a young lad, too oblivious to defend his means of sustenance. I tore at his face and threw him through the window of the tower. It was unnecessary to watch him plummet, for there was only hard pavement to meet him several stories below.

After I had dispatched my assassins I burst into the chamber of my uncle. He demanded to know the meaning of said outburst but only began to stammer as I stumbled in, drenched in violence. The man was naked from the waist down and surrounded by pieces of fine art that he was unceremoniously rubbing his genitals on. I was momentarily bewildered by his odd fetish but dismissed it as a madness befit for a man of his treachery. I took several steps into the room, watching him retreat backwards with his awkward erection, now sitting somewhere between half-mast and flaccid, taunting me from beneath his night-shirt. I tried to avert my eyes because it was weird, you now, seeing a family member naked from the waist down; that sort of thing makes me uncomfortable. I really didn't want to tackle him or really even touch him, so I cast an ornate candelabra at his head. The wrought-iron of the piece had the desired effect upon the old bastard in that it struck him in the temple and he collapsed, dead.

Satisfied, I retreated from my uncles chamber and left his fortress. Moments later I put it to the torch and watched it burn to the ground, rancor and all. I had no desire for the treasure he kept hidden in the sub-basements, for I wanted nothing to do with his damnable wealth. The castle slowly slumped beneath its own weight as its wooden supports burned and collapsed. I later forced the village my uncle administered to fill the considerable hole the castle left with earth, sealing up all traces of the fortress. When they finished it was off to the salt mines for the lot of them. I was victorious and ended up absorbing my uncles land into my kingdom.

So, what have we learned from this anecdote? Transgressions must be forcibly punished. I could have simply given my uncle a stern warning after leaving his dungeon, but no! He would not learn from such a thing. Death by candelabra was the only solution. I must insist that similar situations be remedied with the same process.

Heed my advice, dear reader.

A Triumphant Return

Dear readers, please, forgive my lengthy absence.

To initiate my triumphant return, I have a reader request, "How do I get smile girl to go out on a date with me?" I am not sure who the fortunate maiden is that said reader is referring to, but I can make a fairly accurate guess as to what will impress her. It's essentially a three step process:

1. In the past I have mentioned the importance of penile gyrations and thrusting ones pelvis as if to point at the object of your affection and say, "You! I am commanding your attention, act accordingly! You would do well to bear my children and become a part of my household." The motion of the bodies midriff can be mesmerizing; like a charmer with a cobra, you may use it to cast a spell upon young maidens. It is important to link different combination's of thrusts to create an elaborate courting ritual. With your dance you must state your intentions, dominate over any other potential suitors, and, most importantly, impress the maiden. There are three sub-steps to this in the greater three step process that will ensure success:

-Have an important mustache. It is not necessary to grow a mustache, you must merely have an important one in your possession. This might mean having a retainer grow one for you or cutting the upper lip from a man with an exceptional mustache, though it would be a shame to steal such a thing. A mustache is important because it takes away from other deficiencies. I give you Holy Roman Emperor Leopold I as an example:


Have you noticed his hideous facial proportions or hair akin to the worst barbarians of the wilds? I didn't, because I was preoccupied with his curious mustache.

-Wear flashy pants. Flashy pants draw attention to the area you are trying to accentuate. Once again, I give you Holy Roman Emperor Leopold I as an example:

This man is ready to conquer the opposite sex and probably the same sex if he feels up to it.

-Destroy a Turkish army. Destroying a Turkish army will give you a well-needed boost to renown through all of Christendom. If we take Holy Roman Emperor Leopold I as an example again, he destroyed a Turkish army. When dangling your penis inches from your prospective loves face, renown is a powerful ally to have if you would like to guarantee success.

For evidence of the effectiveness of mustaches, flashy pants, and renown from killing Turks, let it be known that despite the generations of inbreeding in his family, which seemed to have created a genetic clusterfuck manifested solely in Leopold himself, the man had three wives, presumably at different points in his life, and seventeen children.

Moving on.

2. Destroy a demon. Years ago my realm was beset with all manners of evil; creatures would descend upon my village to gingerly molest our draft animals and steal our stores of grain. They were the root cause of a horrible famine for the animals did not want to work, having been recently sexually assaulted, and our provisions had been depleted by the thieving demons. Thus, I set off into the woods to find the source of the vile creatures. Deep in the woods I stumbled upon a cottage inhabited by a lonely witch. I went to her and asked, nay, demanded, "Witch, is it you who has been sending all manners of evil into my village?!" Her response was swift, "Indeed! Your people have poisoned the spring from which I draw my water with phosphates and heavy metals from your industry. This is my revenge!" I immediately was thrown into a rage and forced my balled fist down her throat, choking her from the inside like Herakles and the Nemean Lion. When she had ceased struggling, I dragged her corpse back to the town and proclaimed that the forest had been cleansed of evil. The people rejoiced. I commenced "getting my dick wet" as the saying goes, after spotting a fine maiden and gyrating in her immediate vicinity for several minutes.

3. This is perhaps the most important piece of advice on this list: impress the maidens father. Most maidens are not free from the influence of their father, they are merely in a state of waiting to be permitted to enter marriage. When I was pursuing my first wife Ansgarde, I brought her father the broad-sword of a Saxon chieftain I had cut down months earlier on campaign. He kissed me on the mouth and promised his daughter to me. It was really that simple. The marriage did not work out for Ansgarde died whilst birthing my first son, Carlomann, who was extraordinarily large. My family does not like to speak of Carlomann for he was born with a malady of the mind. If one examines his frontal lobe, one will notice that he has the characteristics of a horse thief and the back of his skull indicates an utter lack of morality.

Follow these steps and you will find yourself betrothed before the spring rains bring new life to your fields.

Heed my advice, dear reader.

Unwanted Attraction

Recently, a reader asked me, "What should I do if a woman who I'm not attracted to is attracted to me and she won't leave me alone?"

An excellent question! I have been assailed in the streets on many an occasion by uncouth maidens positively lusting with a fire immolating their loins. They would throw their bodies at my feet and beg for my embrace, grasping at my limbs as I passed. But I will not be tempted by a gaggle of sirens though and neither should you! Promiscuous men and women are a danger to society; they threaten to unravel its very fabric by fornicating with everything in site. What would I say to my brother, father, mother, sister, or even my most beloved canine companion if I intruded upon them engaged in filthy coitus with a stranger? The words escape me because I have not the vocabulary to describe the shame. There are ways to get around this problem though, but each solution is dependent on how dedicated of a pursuer you're dealing with.

In the case of a mild infatuation on the part of your pursuer:

There are several courses of action you might take, some of the active and others of the passive variety. If you are wont to put great amounts of effort into your problems, I would recommend coating your body in feces. Not only is feces readily available, but the stench is pungent and repulsive. I'm sure you're thinking, "But Northfist, my pursuant is of the common rabble, they have spawned from the nether of the peasantry and are thus born into a world of shit and filth. They are no stranger to fecal matter, thus your advice is unusable!" Fortunately there is a solution to this particular woe!

So your body is coated in feces, but you're still the object of someones affection and, because they're used to the smell, they haven't been put off by your repellent. The best course of action would be to surround your domicile with the corpses of plague victims. Preferably, you would also wipe their infected glands upon your person. The rabble is repelled by the plague because they are not favored by God and therefore liable to be afflicted by the illness. Even if a peasant girl desires you at all hours of the day, she would dare not approach someone carrying something that would spell certain death for her. I have never heard of an aristocrat succumbing to the plague, so sleep easy tonight.

But what if your pursuer is not easily shaken? They are obsessed! They have left tokens of their love about your domicile; the corpses of rodents, regurgitated balls of fur, shredded paper and furniture! This requires considerable initiative on the part of the individual being assailed all hours of the day.

If you've read this far, your pursuer is dangerous and must be defended against at all costs. First, I would recommend investing in traps. First and foremost, buy one of these:

Preferably, it would be set-up and hidden at a strategic choke-point. If possible, it would be wise to conceal it under a bed of leaves or perhaps sticks. If you're fortunate, the trap won't take a leg off and your pursuer can simply be left to languish in the sun until they succumb to a variety of wild animals or thirst/hunger. If they do manage to escape from the trap they will likely be enraged and delusional. You must prepare for this eventuality.

Where a leg-trap fails, a pit has a success rate of nearly 100%. They can be a hassle to dig, but it's nothing that one cannot delegate to a team of serfs. Ideally, the end product will look something like this:
As soon as word spreads that you have one of these on your estate, you can be sure that whatever maniacal harpy you have lurking in your shadows will either be swallowed whole and left to rot for a thousand years or will be entirely dissuaded from her carnal quest.

Ah, I have almost forgotten, there was a second part to the initial question! "What if she tricks you into sleeping with her."

This is almost inconceivable, but, dear reader, it can happen! If you have had the misfortune of having intercourse against your will, your best possible action would be to contact the police and press as many charges as are humanly possible. Seriously, that's rape and I'm not going to make jokes about it.

Now here's a picture of a satyr engaged in the act of coitus with a goat. Until next time dear readers, enjoy!

Power

Recently I was asked, "Northfist, how many cubits of weight might you heft?" It was something that I had never pondered before. Often, when I'm oiling my muscles, the only thought crossing my mind is how I could wrestle my fathers strongest mule to the ground and pin it to the earth for several minutes. Never had I considered attempting to lift the mule above my head. I suppose I'm just not disposed to consider such things.

Regardless, I was confronted with a challenge, so I asked the villagers to gather all of the stones in front of the chapel. When they had amassed a pile so large that it was an affront to god himself, I began to go through them, testing the weights of the stones. I instructed the villagers to place the rocks in wicker baskets. Upon completion of this task, I asked them to begin stacking the baskets in my arms. They stacked the baskets in my arms and I stood there straining for eight days and nights, holding the tower of rock-filled, wicker-baskets steady. On the morning of the ninth day I had my fill of holding the wicker baskets, so I dropped them... carelessly. The stones shook the earth and people ran about in absolute terror. Their panic caused several to be trampled to death, although, to be fair, they likely would have died from tuberculosis anyways. I grew tired of bearing witness to mayhem so I left and proceeded to lift carriages, portcullis', draft animals, and all things large and small across the land. I had a problem: I was addicted.

As I was bench-pressing a couple of mares in the middle of a road, an old crone approached me. She told me that if I were to continue lifting the mares, great trouble and hardships would befall me. I construed her comment as a threat and ran her off into the woods. I hope she rots there. I continued to lift the mares above my head, I felt unstoppable. It was several hours later that my first misfortune befell me. I strode through a village with the mares held proudly above my head when I spotted two maidens giggling. It was distracting. I inquired, "Maidens! What is it that you find so humorous? The bulges of my muscles are nothing to be trifled with!" They replied, "Good sir, is your refrigerator running?" I did not know what to make of the comment, the context of the comment was simply unknown to me. But before I could respond, the shorter one blurted,"Sir knight! You best go and catch it!" The two then began to laugh mirthfully at my expense.

I did not know what to make of the situation, the larks were doubling over with laughter. The scene they were causing drew the attention of others who joined the fray. I was utterly humiliated, but I was to have the last laugh! The mare in my right hand was of good breeding so I used her to smash the shorter one until she bled from the eyes. The other merely watched, gasping in horror, so I bashed her as well! The crowd dispersed as I shouted obscenities at them.

I continued on my way, holding the mares high above my head. My unusual profile evidently attracted unwanted attention as a large bird of prey landed upon a tree immediately in front of my person. The bird stared for a moment and then asked me to place the mares upon the ground; I obliged the creature and the mares ran off. The bird then asked me to strip from the waist down; I obliged and my clothing was taken away by the wind. The bird then told me to approach; I obliged and moved forwards. The bird looked me up and down and then asked me to dig a pit, so I began to dig. A fortnight elapsed before the bird asked me to stop and instructed me to fill the pit with gold and jewels. I was so invested in helping the great bird by that point that I figured I might as well finish. I traveled for several lunar cycles before finding the adequate gold and jewels to fill the pit. When the pit was full, the bird squatted upon its summit and released a clutch of eggs. I understood life.

Visual Learning

I would like to introduce this as the first in what will hopefully be a series of epic quests. So here, for your viewing pleasure, is the retelling of a classic, the tales of Space-Man Jesus. I hope you enjoy.

An Evening in Review

It has recently come to my attention that a great deal of literature on the subject of finding a mate exists. So, this evening, I have decided to take it upon myself to peruse and review one of the many sources that one might choose to reflect upon when looking for an amiable spouse.

Tonight, I had the privilege of discovering a tome of information in the way of "The Free Seduction Guide." As I looked through it, I found a section that one might consider valuable titled "The Rules For Picking Up Women." "At last!" thought I, "A codified set of rules composed solely by someone wise in the way of attracting members of the opposite sex!" I saw a little bit of myself in the author in that he has evidently achieved what I have been trying to do for the last few weeks. With that, I delved into the passages, seeking his wisdom.

"While gaming a woman, constantly repeat her name, it will be like music to her ears. For example "Stop trying to seduce me, Jill... I know what you're up to!" instead of "Stop trying to seduce me... I know what you're up to!" To further amplify the potency of this technique, you can even pet name your target, which will create a stronger connection between the two of you and allow you to "stake your claim" on her indirectly."

These are wise words indeed! I am not quite sure what gaming is, so I will assume that it is when one takes the object of his current affection in search of game. Hunting is an intimate experience that I usually reserve for sons, but I suppose bringing a would-be-wife on a trip wouldn't hurt. With that in mind, it would be wise to repeat her name to hold her attention, lest she be struck by a spear meant for a wild boar. Unfortunately, I am not sure what the second sentence means. Hunting trips are no place for seduction; when I hunt, I lust for blood, not intercourse. My whole family could starve if I failed to come home with a healthy carcass. I do understand "staking ones claim" though. This is crucial and I'm glad that author was wise enough to bring it up. You must make sure that the woman has your scent on her. Other men must recognize your musk. They must fear it. The sweat glands are an excellent way to make sure your scent lingers. Rub said glands upon her, make sure you cover the crucial parts of her body that other men are drawn to, such as the cheeks, bosom, legs, and arms.

"Never talk negatively about your life or your job, or anything for that matter (except for your target of interest). Although by nature our motives may be different, women are ultimately searching for a companion, so why would she want to share her life with someone that is not satisfied with their own. Never talk negatively about your ex-girlfriends either, which is a very common mistake because you should never talk about your ex at all."

An excellent piece of advice! No noblewoman wants to hear about a failed harvest or how your uncle was gored to death by a boar when he attempted to take your clumsy aunt on a hunting trip. I disagree with the bolded text though, women are searching for a champion. Make sure to reinforce this point by attacking other men in her honor, preferably whilst on horse-back. I am not quite sure what an "ex" is. If it is referring to a broken marriage, I would also recommend not bringing it up as his majesty the Pope does not condone divorces; you would not anyone to think you impious, or worse, a cuckold. 

"When asked what you plan to do with your life, or what you are currently doing to improve yourself always show great ambition. Women are extremely attracted to ambitious men, because when you explain your high goals and plans for yourself she will be thinking "Maybe this guy will be important someday, or maybe he is already". Women are drawn to the "go getter" type of man, and in turn they shun those who appear to be lazy and lack motivation. You should strive to make everyone, not only women, believe that you are a man who is going places in life."

Yes! I could not have said it better myself! When a woman asks me what I do, I like to stab a servant and tell her that I hunt escaped serfs for all the lords of the realm. I also mention that with this job I take possession of heaps of jewels and gold. Riches no mortal could imagine. The stabbing serves the dual purpose of showing that you are ambitious, so much so that you would keep working even when trying to woo a lovely lady, and that you hold contempt for the lower classes (this is honorable). The riches tell her that you... have riches. It's self-explanatory.

" Never appear to be intimidated by a woman, even if you are scared to death because of her beauty. Beautiful women are accustomed to men being intimidated by them and ONLY find the men who aren't to be attractive. In order to properly seduce a high caliber woman, you need to convey the image that you deal with her type all of the time and that she doesn't impress you at all. Make HER work for YOUR affection, not the other way around!"

I have never been intimidated by a woman; a woman cannot cast a javelin the distance of a furlong. If the woman is beautiful and that, for some reason bothers you, ask her to put a mask on. You should not have to accommodate anyone. That is where this man errs. Why should you have to convince this woman that you "deal with her type all of the time." We're not trying to find presumptuous wenches. 

"Never look at the ground or at your shoes while talking to a woman. This is a sign of insecurity (which women are extremely turned off by) and they will pick up on this immediately, resulting in all of the progress you've made thus far being erased. Your own body language plays a larger role in your overall game than you might think, so it would be wise to always have the positive, confident posture of an alpha male at all times."

Ah! Another significant mistake. When I was on campaign in Saxony, I had a friend who refused to look down, so great was his pride. As we were marching one day, the foolish bastard stepped into a trap and lost the lower half of his leg. At that moment, we were attacked by the foul Saxons and he had his head caved in by a mace minutes into the battle. If only the fool had watched where he was going. Searching the ground is a sign that you're constantly wary of traps set by others. It would be of any woman's benefit to take interest in you.

"Knowledge is power. Always listen to and observe everything, including other's conversations. If you take the time to observe a woman before you approach her, you may notice something she is doing, wearing or talking about which in-a-way "tells you" what to say when you try to spark up a conversation with her. It is a common myth that in order to be successful you need to approach a woman immediately once you've seen her. Once your skills have evolved you will easily be able to think of unique openers to use impromptu in the field, but during your journey of skill development it is much more important to plan your moves properly than it is to act upon impulse. Take baby steps and give yourself room to grow, this is not an overnight process."

What does this fool take me for? I am no spy, if I want information from a woman, I shall ask. I am no knave, silently stalking a woman as I stalk a deer in the woods. I don't understand these problems that the youth are having striking up conversations with women. The average conversation should go as such:

Myself: "Greetings fair maiden"

Maiden: "Hail"

Myself: "It would be my honor if I could fight as your champion in the tournament tomorrow. Many men will feel the cold steel of my blade for your love."

Maiden: *Swoon* "My lord, of course!"

Problem solved and without any "observation" might I add.

"This is a no-brainer: Never call the next day. You will appear to be desperate with nothing better to do. You want to project that you are "in demand" and that you are busy, which will make you seem exciting, fun and mysterious. If you game a woman effectively during your initial meeting with her, chances are you won't need to call her at all because she'll call you first. On that note, it would be wise to always exchange numbers with a woman rather than only getting one from her. This is easily done by handing her your cell phone and telling her to put her number in it, then once she's finished you simply call her immediately so she has your number as well."

Let a woman call upon me? Do not call the next day? What kind of trash is this? What in Gods name is a "cell phone"? 

"Never try to impress a woman by telling her about the things that you own or the stuff you have done. If you do so, you will come off as bragging, which is most definitely not something that women find attractive in a man. Actions speak much louder than words, so it is in your best interest to SHOW her why you are someone of high social status."

How will a woman know if I am worthy of her love if I do not tell her about my vast land-holdings and the many victories in battle that I have achieved?

Warning: It was at this point that I began to feel that perhaps the advice this man was giving me was utterly foolish. I am afraid this is going to cause my impartiality to falter.

"SMILE. Remember to smile constantly; while your talking, while your listening, while your doing just about anything. I can not stress this rule enough, smiling is the most powerful weapon in any player's arsenal. It let's the women know that your probably a fun guy to be around and someone they would like to know or be involved with. This single rule alone can improve your success with women by over 100%, use it wisely. Smiling builds comfort and rapport with women, which are both necessary aspects of seduction and will be your downfall if they are neglected. However, don't overdo your smiling and walk around like your face is stuck that way, it's creepy. Smile enough to be viewed as approachable and likeable, but only in appropriate amounts."

Dearest reader, I have significant gripes with this. Walking about with a smile upon your face, even if you don't look "creepy", makes you look like an ass. What does one have to smile about? Are you glad that typhoid took your sister instead of you? Have you inherited many head of sheep from your dying father? It's irrelevant, your goal is to win a spouse, not flash your teeth at women. If you want to prove that you're (note my proper use of "you are") "fun" hold a banquet. A sumptuous feast will do more than a silly smile ever will. My other problem is with the mans mathematics. Surely, he must be aware that if smiling increased your chances with a woman by 100%, all of his other tips are redundant. What's the point of risking ones life slaying another man in one-on-one combat if you have perfect chances of winning the affection of a fair maiden with a mere smile? There is no point.

I think it is high time that I break off of this review. These ideas are poisonous and I would not recommend them to any sane man.

All of this information was pulled from "becomeaplayer.com" which may possibly be the most unfortunate url on the whole of the internet. Forgive me for breaking character, I don't want to be sued for not citing my source.

Heirs

I am making good on a promise that I made in my initial introduction, that is, I mentioned that I would impart wisdom about how to choose an heir. Indeed, I am skipping several steps; wedding etiquette, fornication, etc. They will be covered later, but I feel that right now  I have to cover selecting an heir.

I have yet to force my main wife to bear a child intended to succeed me. I can't stand children, their voices are of a certain frequency that my brain cannot process the information that they spew, rather my senses degrade, I spiral into madness and begin stomping out fires. It is my understanding that my particular reaction to the voice of a child is rather irrational and cannot have formed to serve any useful purpose. With that said, I do realize the importance of an heir. When I die, I need the land tracts of the Godslayer family to be passed on to someone worthy, for if it were annexed by the porcine sodomite living several leagues to the south, my soul would weep for eternity. Outlined here is the optimum means to churn out a worthy heir:

An heir needs to be strong and groomed for the position from birth. You need to understand that a rigorous process goes into not just picking an heir, but bringing him (yes, I said, "him," deal with it) up properly. The process begins as the baby is passing out of your good ladies vagina-good-times-life-tunnel.

It is important to release a hen in the room; if it is attracted to the after-birth, you must cast a dagger at the child. If the dagger strikes the child and death follows, you will need to make your wife conceive again. If the dagger misses the child, you may permit the child to live, but only begrudgingly. At the age of 2, place the toddler at the bottom of a dried well, if they escape, continue the process, if they do not and die in the well, you must make your wife conceive again. If the child blocks or grasps the dagger, continue the process. If a fawn can run minutes after birth, a good baby should be able to block a dagger within the same time span.

If the hen is not attracted to the after-birth, your baby has been born under good auspices. You should continue the process of raising the child, unless the released hen suffers from a cardiovascular disease. In which case, you ought to seat the child between two stones shaped like St. Augustine,16 hours after birth. You must withhold nourishment from the child for the next 20 hours, if the child is still alive after that time has elapsed, then he has indeed been born under good auspices.

At the age of four, strip your child down to his loincloth and send him into the woods. He must come back with the head of a full-grown boar (the child in the picture is there merely for scale purposes, my wife did not allow such a foul, presumably overweight, youth to creep from the depths of her loins, clad in horizontal stripes and an unbecoming hat).

If the child fails to return, you must make your wife conceive again. If the child returns with the head of an adolescent boar, chastise the child. Withhold nourishment for 20 hours and then send him back into the woods to bring back the head of a full-grown boar. When the child returns with the trophy, reward him with with a cord of wood and continue the process of raising the child.

At the age of five, you must test the mental fortitude of your child. In the dead of night, enter his room, cast stones and mathematical problems at his sleeping form. When he has solved the problems and cleaned the stones, retire for the evening. The following week, enter his room again at the same time. Begin casting stones, but this time accompany the stones with word-puzzles and riddles. When he has solved the word puzzles and riddles, retire for the night. The next week, enter his room, again, in the dead of night, but, instead of casting stones, remove the child from the room and place him in your cellar. Leave the child there for a fortnight. Feed him only fungus, let him ascertain which are toxic and edible. After a fortnight, if the child still stirs, remove him from the cellar and continue the process of raising him. If the child has perished, you must make you wife conceive again.

At the age of eight, your child should be able to bench press at least 150 pounds and do 50 push-ups in a minute (that's not even a push-up per second). If your child cannot do this, he must be abandoned in the desert and you must make your wife conceive again.

At the age of ten, your child must meet your enemy in combat for the first time. He must bring you the signet ring of your opposing lord, the ears of his bishop, the scalps of his children, the uterus of his finest mare, and the finest family crest he can locate. The ring is prove he defeated your enemy. The ears of the bishop to prove he destroyed the enemy of the true Church. The scalps of his children to prove that he can destroy the heirs of another. And the uterus of a fine mare for the realms necromancers to concoct spells to tell the future. On his return, he must face ordeal by fire. Allow him to place his hand into the hearth of a fire, when he retracts it unscathed, he is surely a worthy heir. If he retracts it with a severe burn, he must be abandoned in the desert and you must make your wife conceive again.

At twelve, you must battle your child. If you have raised him properly, the child should defeat you and take your place as head of the family.

It's the only way.

Heed my advice, young reader.