The Story So Far

This Cat believes it's always profitable to take stock of the evolving narrative that unfolds before our Northumbrian eyes and ears; if we don't, we run the risk of losing sight of where we are - not to mention where we came from. The whirl that spins around us is pretty confusing at the best of times.

To sum up:

The lovely Northumbrian Kingdom - governed (in theory at least) by His Majesty King Alhfrith and his potty-mouthed Queen Hillida - has been hijacked by a large and influential criminal mob, organised into three distinct gangs who - for the sake of popular entertainment - feign a bitter rivalry between themselves. This unholy congregation has so far managed to obtain the keys to power, and is perfectly content to efficiently and joyfully milk the Kingdom of all its diminishing financial resources, which are now expressed in terms of vast negative figures. Terrorising the ordinary bovine masses through their appointed mouthpieces the soothsayers, they're continually concocting cock-and-bull scare stories with a view to raising the population to a state of high anxiety and neurosis. By this means they're then capable of imposing new laws and taxes as ready solutions to their invented problems, thus burdening the people with the triple evils of criminality, slavery and debt. The resemblance between the Kingdom and a debtor's penal colony or oubliette is becoming more uncanny by the day.

Behind this web of sinister intrigue is the malign hand of the Emperor Jose Borracho, aided and ably assisted by his glamorous assistant, the half-witted Hermit the Rumphole. These characters are the linchpins of another larger criminal cartel who have managed to dominate the lands of the Franks, the Westphalians, the Bulgars and various other tribes and kingdoms. It's all so very sad.

Into the scene emerges our hero. His demeanour is fixed, his physique is small but powerful and his words are few. Nevertheless, upon him hangs all the quickly-dissolving hopes, dreams and aspirations of the captive nation. Can he restore the lost honour of the noble Earl Frederic Goodwibble? Can he keep the uliginous and malodorous forces of Redistributionism at bay? Can he defeat in intellectual battle the magic mushroom-crazed wibblings of His Holiness Archbishop Georges Moonbat - the high priestess of the sinister Global Warming Cult? Will he - by valiant endeavour - prevent the Witangemot cadre (headed up by the suave and malicious Dagwald Caedmeron, the Chief Cock and Bluebottle Washer of the Tree Faction) from watering down the Kingdom's ale and mead, thus necessitating double the consumption of liquor by the impoverished masses at twice the price? Will he be able to dismiss the forces of incompetent evil and usher in a new Golden Age for a free people? In short - will Wade Rune be able to save the day?

Stay tuned, people..