The Voice

The voice of the Northumbrian electorate has spoken, and an unequivocal message (the content of which is unclear) has rung out. After a ferociously fierce fight between Beoris the Blond, Kenwald the Deadweight and a plethora of also-rans representing the various flavours of Redistributionism that continue entertain, bedazzle, bankrupt and blight the Northumbrian political landscape, the Glorious Victor has been announced. Despite the other runners, the contest was essentially a battle royal between the Tree and the Redistributionist factions, respectively headed up by the charismatic, raffish Beoris and his deadly rival, the reptilian shapeshifting Kenwald - a seasoned professional Redistributionist politico with a considerable undeclared income (from sources best understood by the underworld) and a penchant for tales of historical fantasy to counterbalance a healthy contempt for his electors. Naturally, the deliriously wild and lavish electoral promises and the factual inaccuracies flowed like the River Ouse in flood, but it was an entertaining contest none the less.

Considering that the competition involved a certain amount of vote rigging on the part of Kenwald the Deadweight's side (there've been more votes from dead - and as yet unborn - Viking Redistributionist citizens than from the living), victory has eluded Kenny Boy. Beoris - the voice of reason, fun, biscuit and bluster has triumphed.

For his coveted prize, Beoris the Blond has the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sing at the opening of the Holy Roman Empire (which are neither holy, Roman nor an empire) Games when they commence in Yorvik in the merry and riotous month of August. This could herald a completely new career path for Beoris. If he can sing in tune. If he can't deliver a pitch-perfect performance, then he can always fall back on the booby prize, and take up the mantle once again to administer the affairs of the Great City...