It came to pass that upon the third moon of the season of Drench, the gallant Sir Muxxy received a pigeon. Inscribed upon its beak was a message so small he summoned the wise sorceress Coconutia to his castle in Worcestershiresaucington-On-The-Hillock. Barely five weeks had passed when she galloped across the drawbridge on her trusty steed, the aged but steadfast Aggroan. The mule had seen better days and only staved off his final journey to the Marmite factory by virtue of his loyalty and enviable ability to tolerate the often grouchy and insufferable sorceress.
"What be thine wish noble Sir?"
"Oh, I wanted this pigeon examined, but I have since found my spectaculites."
"Five flamin' weeks it took me to journey hither! And for naught?"
"Um, yeah. Sorry about that. If mobility telephonicles were invented that may have helped. But here we are."
Her fury lasted no less than four sun cycles and three moons. Still, the old place needed a remodel.
"Finished now? Good. Tell me Oh Wise One: what do you make of the quest?"
Coconutia examined the now moldy pigeon and deciphered its beak message.
"Ooh, Excaliber be it? Bode this not well for thee Sir."
"Lol wut?"
"Terrible dangers and unpleasant things await ye."
"OK. Any comely wenches along the way?"
"Oh aye my liege. Like I said, unpleasant things."
"Doesn't sound too bad. Now, how do I get there?"
"I needs a flagon of ale, two dozen bat wings and the web of a hairy-bugger."
"For a transportation spell?"
"Nay you prat, for my breakfast while I thinks and ponders."
Coconutia slopped, crunched and guzzled her way through her alternative diet. She argued with somebody who wasn't there before motioning the now terribly bored Sir Muxxy to come sit with her.
"Heed these words, Sir Knight. Go ye yonward about the south. Avoid ye Londinium for thar be dragons and grumpy gits. Procure passage across the Brown Sea. Ye best take clean underthings."
"Wise woman I hear your counsel and shall make it so."
He called forth his squire, Shane the Squelch - an unfortunate but accurate name.
"Yeth mathter. What ith thy bidding?"
"Well first, please do us the favor of not relieving yourself in my parlor. Poor manners, what?"
"Tho thowwy mathter. I ith on the turnipth again. Play right havok with me guts, yer thee."
"Dress me and fetch my lanth--I mean lance. For we are off on a jolly quetht--erm, quest."
"Ooh, much exthite. I ain't been gone forth but to the pig rathes"
"Quite. And get my steed saddled."
"Right away Thir."
Sir Muxxy was a charitable fellow yet even he tired of trying to make sense of Shane the Squelcher.
"Coconutia, take thee my castle as thine own until I return."
"Pah, I'll go back t'me old hovel alright. A castle sitter I be not. Dip thine hand into thy coffers yer skinflint."
With that and a poof, the old crone vanished in a cloud of brown smoke. It may have been magical, most likely flatulence.
And so Sir Muxxy's quest for Excaliber began in earnest. He mounted his glorious steed, a rainbow colored unicorn named Martha, and set off towards the south. Shane followed, squelching behind as he pulled a cart laden with the knight's essentials. A bed, three ring wood stove, shelf full of books to keep himself entertained, wardrobe with outfits suitable for any occasion and a copper bath. They would have to slum it and buy food along the way.
"Thith ith nithe"
"Oh do shut up."
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Humble apologies to @aggroed, @canadian-coconut and @swelker101.
All STEEMLORDS graphics are courtesy of the amazing @bearone