Furious Tales

By Andrew Mitchell

The Paper Bag Princess meets Conan the Barbarian in a series of comically epic adventures. What would happen if a sweet innocent girly princess found herself in the depths of the Hyborean Age? Get a big sword and cut her own way through history!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365328350

Andrew Mitchell

Andrew Mitchell was educated at Rugby and Jesus College, Cambridge. He was an officer in the 1st Royal Tank Regiment, serving with the United Nations military forces in Cyprus. Prior to entering Parliament, he worked for Lazard in London. As the MP for Gedling from 1987 to 1997, he served in John Major’s government, including in the Whips’ Office during the notorious Maastricht debates. Re-elected to the House of Commons for Royal Sutton Coldfield in 2001, he served as Secretary of State for International Development from 2010 to 2012 and as Chief Whip in 2012. He is an active member of the House of Commons and a fierce defender of his constituents. He is also a fellow at Cambridge University, a visiting fellow at Harvard University and an honorary professor at the University of Birmingham. He lives in London and the Midlands with his wife, Sharon, with whom he has two daughters, Hannah and Rosie.

Book preview

Furious Tales

by

Andrew Mitchell

Copyright © 2016 by Andrew Mitchell and Boom Shadow Productions

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchase

ISBN: 978-1-365-32835-0

Cover Artist: Paul Alexandrescu

Boom Shadow Productions

0403 595 229

[e-mail]

Dedicated to

Bita, Cat, Elly, Erika, Holly, Ina & Kim

The Skin of Gaia

A barely clothed Elspeth sat perched atop an altar to Kali, back lit by a raging fire with skulls and bones of various monsters and humanoid creatures alike littered about the place and a gore soaked sword resting in her hands. A baritone of pigeon English uttered forth what could be considered the opening narration and basic plot premise of the story that was about the take place...

In a time when copious amounts of ice cream could not solve your problems... In an age where a fashion faux pas would spell your doom... Hither to did Elspeth rise, crowned princess of Kaliceto, the promised bride of Prince Reigen of the kingdom of Kabeiros. Elspeth, a daughter of Gaia who was destined to unleash onto the Earth, cries of lust and fury the likes of which had never been seen...

Bathed in the morning hues of the most tranquil of dawns, Princess Elspeth, who was dressed in a lavish pink dress, skipped through a forest which in the early throws of spring was filled with cute furry animals and wild flowers. Lost in her own fairy tale day dreams, Elspeth blissfully sung to herself innocently in harmonious angelic tones so sugary sweet and they could cause an outbreak of diabetes.

La, la, la, la oh Prince Reigen my darling betrothed husband to be, how I long to be married. La, la, la, la.

Elspeth took time to smell some roses and was about to break out into a musical number when suddenly a hysterical peasant, who had been set ablaze and whose flesh appeared to be melting away from his bones, ran past Elspeth, flailing his arms madly as he screamed hysterically.

AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Charganothrothbothnicoth!

Contemplating for a moment the words of the flaming peasant, Elspeth rubbed her chin.

The elder demon dragon? Oh dear, I totally forgot to invite him to the wedding. I had best fix this at once.

Elspeth merrily skipped off home day dreaming about her kingdom’s preparation for her lavish wedding. A wedding so lavish that the excessive amounts of flowers, candles, doves, swans and horse drawn carriages a wash in an ocean of every shade of pink and gold trim that would cover the entire kingdom, it would bankrupt a small nation. Sadly as Elspeth skipped into view of her castle home her jaw suddenly dropped as she was confronted by the horrific sight of her castle having been engulfed with flames and scores of dead and burning bodies lying all over the castle grounds resulting in a grizzly motif that put somewhat of a dampener on the pending nuptials.

But I’m meant to be getting married. Elspeth blubbed.

At the centre of the burning ruin arose Charganothrothbothnicoth, a seemingly undead dragon of colossal size and proportions. He feasted upon a mixture of nuns, orphans, new born puppies and baby seals and for the sake of unnecessary shock value took extreme measures to chew with his mouth open. With her ancestral home now engulfed in flames and with little of the surrounding country side not reduced to ash, Elspeth was left with a quivering lower lip and a faint whimper.

But I’m meant to be getting married. Elspeth blubbed again and even more pathetically than before.

Amongst this chaotic scene Charganothrothbothnicoth’s various minions were slaughtering what few inhabitants of the castle still remained. So great was the level of depravity shown by Charganothrothbothnicoth’s minions that they proceeded to ignore a ‘Please don’t walk on the grass’ sign.  However as soon as one foot bent a single blade of grass a burly knight burst forth from the ashes of a ruined building, causing Elspeth to swoon.

Reigen! Elspeth giggled in a gush of girly enthusiasm.

Reigen drew a humungous sword of a totally impractical design, the size of which would probably do more harm to its wielder via herniated discs then it could ever do to an opponent struck by the edge or any miscellaneous pointy bits.

Charganothrothbothnicoth you shall rue this day! I shall strike you down and feast upon your heart...and stuff. Reigen shouted, trying to motivate himself for battle but was mostly just trying to show off for Elspeth.

Reigen roared at the top of his lungs and proceeded to obliterate everything in his path including some other survivors as he dispatched wave after wave of Charganothrothbothnicoth’s minions.

With my father’s sword, forged in the fires of hell itself from the core of a dying sun that fell from the heavens and bathed in the blood of gods, I shall smite thee most mightily! Reigen roared striking a most dramatic pose.

Charganothrothbothnicoth yawned and proceeded to squash Reigen with his thumb and used Reigen’s sword as a toothpick to dislodge a piece of nun trapped between his back molars.

Reigen? Elspeth sniffled with a sad kitten face as her heart metaphorically shattered like glass into many tiny pieces.

Charganothrothbothnicoth burped which unleashed a cone of fire in Elspeth’s direction. She managed to avoid it but not before her dress was burnt to cinders as she plummeted into the castle moat. Charganothrothbothnicoth flew off with Prince Reigen still stuck to his thumb as Elspeth struggled in the murky waters and steadily sank into the darkness.

In an epic montage, Charganothrothbothnicoth laid waste to the lands of Kaliceto. People screamed as their homes burnt to the ground which is superimposed over an image of stylised map which is slowly consumed by flames to emphasise that this was happening on a grand scale. Prince Reigen managed to find time to check his finger nails with both his fingers curled and the straight.

Under the light of a full moon, a mud soaked hand sprung up from the water below and clawed at the earth as Elspeth escaped her watery grave. Filthy and naked, Elspeth slowly rose to her feet and looked over the smouldering ruins that were once her home. She raised her fists in the air and unleashed a primal roar. Elsewhere an alien killing machine with hyper-elongated mandibles cowered in fear and switched on his optic prism body armour and whimpered at the sound of Elspeth’s roar.

From that moment forth Elspeth prepared for the day of her revenge using her princess skills.

Elspeth stood over an anvil and hammered away at a piece of metal. Sweltering in the unforgiving heat of the forge she plunged the metal craft into the water which erupted into a cloud of steam. Through the steam she raised from the water a perfectly crafted sewing needle.

Using the very flesh of the life giving trees harvested from the earth mother herself, Elspeth sought to forge her armour.

Elspeth broke into a grocery store to raid it for supplies. She gathered up a bundle of paper bags and took liberties with the amply supply of baking ingredients. Elspeth used the needle to sew and embroider a new suit of armour from the bundle of paper bags.

Well versed in organic alchemy, Elspeth sought to create blade that could fell a god in a single blow.

Elspeth used some unorthodox cake mix to bake herself a sword of unbelievable strength going through several incarnations from gooey soufflé to the final incarnation shatter stone and gravity slice through her last pair of silk unmentionables.

Elspeth trained night and day to harden her flesh to match her soul. 

Elspeth weight trained with handbags of various sizes. In between the upgrades in weight she measured her arms and uses a wall chart to gauge her level of kick assery but still feminie with scales ranging parody versions of Buffy to Xena.

As the sun rose and shone down on the ruins of the castle, Elspeth stood again with her sword in hand and her armour made from paper bags hand stitched together and embroidered with various glyphs and symbols of the ancient bitch goddesses from around the world but tailored enough to show off ample amounts of cleavage. Elspeth raised her sword to her face.

I shall avenge my family, my kingdom and my people! I shall take back my husband to be! And I shall have my damn wedding! Elspeth shouted.

In the frozen wastes of Auril, Elspeth trudged through a mountainous tundra in a blinding blizzard while still sporting the cleavage armour when she stumbled across an out of the way placed tavern called the ‘Emasculated Goat’. Just beyond it, was a massive iron gate that was securely locked and just behind that gate is a passage to the next valley which surprisingly was lush tropical. Elspeth eye twitched and she kicked down the door to the tavern.

The tavern of the Emasculated Goat was filled with scum and villainy the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the last parody of Conan the Barbarian. All eyes were on Elspeth as she stood in the door way.

Who is it that holds the key to the gates of Auril? I must pass this place and onto realm of Charganothrothbothnicoth! Elspeth demanded.

Everyone remained motionless with only their eyes wandering back and forth. Everyone suddenly raised a finger and pointed to Meephos, a rather large rotund man, who was surrounded by various fertility carvings and other props that would best be described as ancient marital aids.

The rotund man threw away his pterodactyl sized drumstick before allowing himself a deep guttural chuckle.

That would be me little girl. Now if you want to pass through the gates of Auril perhaps you would indulge me with the ancient bed dance of Mami Wata and birth me many sons. Meephos gloated before licking his lips.

Elspeth raised an eyebrow.

As tempting as it is to be stuck under an ink blotter of bulbous man flesh how about you just be a gentleman and give me the key lest I turn you into several thousand bars of soap, of which by chance you are actually in desperate need. Elspeth replied.

You dare insult me and my glorious manfume? I shall crush you with my bare hands. Meephos roared.

Elspeth shook her head before putting on a sadistic smile.

Your bare hands indeed, well they will be the second thing I’ll be chopping off! Elspeth growled.

Umm perhaps we can settle this the old Nepalese way... Meephos replied nervously

Four hours into a drinking contest later, Elspeth unleashed a deep guttural burp after downing another flagon adding it to the large pyramid sitting next to her. Elspeth gestured to Meephos.

Your move.

Meephos wiped the sweat from his forehead and struggled to down the flagon in front of him. Elspeth chuckled, grabbed two more flagons and poured them straight down her gullet. She slammed both flagons down on the table, ate one and placed the other on the pyramid.

Strongest mead indeed, tis apple juice and your flagons could use a bit of salt. Elspeth remarked somewhat disappointed.

Meephos looked around nervously as the patrons of the bar began to lose respect for him. Some people were even poised to burn his phallic idols in a bonfire. With his manhood being called into question, he tried to emulate Elspeth’s last display as best he could.

I cannot be beaten by a mere slip of a girl. Meephos gasped after downing his drinks.

Meephos clutched his chest just over his heart. Not even fazed for a moment, Elspeth placed another flagon between her breasts, defied the laws of physics by flexing the fatty tissue to crush the flagon causing its contents to be shot up in the air. Elspeth leapt onto the table with her mouth wide open and caught every single drop of the alcohol and swallowed it all in one gulp.

Ta da… Elspeth added in the form of yet another deep guttural manly burp.

A great cheer rose up and everyone applauded immensely bar Meephos who had already died from a heart attack. Elspeth reached over, grabbed the key to the gate and kicked the fat bloated corpse onto the fire.

Slip of a girl indeed. Elspeth scoffed as shook out the last of the broken flagon from her armour and headed towards the exit.

Past the gate Elspeth stood on a rocky outcrop and heralded a new dawn by letting her hair down, flashing her breasts and roaring at the top of her lungs with her sword raised high in the air to the rising sun in what would have probably looked totally epic on a book cover if it had gotten past the censors. She was suddenly greeted by a short stumpy little man with hairy feet.

Hello weary traveller I am Mr Fromlis, jeweller extraordinaire, would thou mind accompanying me on an arduous quest to deliver this custom made ring. It fell from ye high dragon that soared through the air and wondersby that it didith have yonder knight stuck to his thumb.

Mr Fromlis held up the ring,