Kinda long but gotta share it.

[Beth Zimmerman]

Okay...you got me.  Great story...well told....just to get to the punch
line.
ROTFLMAO!!!!!

Afrena O'Dunlaing
Still wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes

----------
> From: Hugh Niewoehner <hughn at ssd.fsi.com>
> To: ansteorra at eden.com; holigans <oh.no at dev1.ssd.fsi.com>
> Cc: wine-rd at galstar.com
> Subject: Kinda long but gotta share it.
> Date: Friday, May 23, 1997 3:26 AM
> 
> --------- Begin forwarded message ----------
> 
> 
> London Dying
> 
> By the 15th century, the Templar Knights had disappeared, but deep in the
> bowels of the British Museum in a case well-sealed and protected lies a
> strange memorial to their impact on the city of London.
> 
> London of the early 12th century was on its way to becoming an impressive
> city, but its life and its blood was the Thames River. Without the river
> commerce would grind to a halt as the people of London discovered to
their
> horror in 1216.
> 
> The first ships seemed simply to have disappeared, but the monster wasted
> little time in this caution. Soon, many Londoners had seen the gaping maw
> licked by flames dragging a hapless crew to its death. It was a fire
> salamander, and in the fall of 1216 it was estimated to be 40 feet long
with
> jaws that gaped 10 feet wide.
> 
> By the spring of 1217, the monster was no longer a nuisance, it was a
> deadly plague. No boat could navigate the Thames... no raft was small
> enough, no ship was large enough to resist the demon of the Thames.
> Worse, the beast was growing! The latest reports called it 70 feet long
with
> jaws opening 15 feet. Our instinct is to discount this absurd growth, and
> yet few could impeach its source.
> 
> Honorus Prepares
> 
> He, our source, enters the story in August of 1217. London had begged,
> prayed, blasphemed, and killed in desparate attempts to exorcise or
> appease their curse; to no avail. On June 14, four men painted themselves
> with the Devil's Cross and proclaimed themselves the Dark Priests of the
> Beast. They built a ship and doused it in oil; then, they sailed it down
the
> river... Dark Priests they may have been, but they died screaming like
any
> man. On July 28, London sent three virgins (the youngest not yet 13) down
> the Thames to the monster. It was thought that this would appease the
evil
> god: the monster's hunger exceeded even this atrocity.
> 
> On August 23, our source received his summons. His given name is lost in
his
> chosen name: Honorus. He was a Templar Knight and possibly a saint. That
> morning, he was commanded to destroy the beast. London in fear and
> desparation had turned to their most jealous weapon, the Templars...
> warrior-monks who fought with the fierce, perhaps fanatic, frenzy of the
> devout. The city had exhausted all other options; the monks were its last
> hope, and Honorus was the greatest of the Knights.
> 
> The battle was truly a footnote to his preparation... Honorus ventured
> into the woods upstream from London. He forsook shelter, clothing,
> food, and sleep for four days, meditating on the coming struggle. When
> the four days ended, he stalked and killed a stag without weapon or
> aid. With the skin of the stag he made clothing; from its flesh he
> regained his strength; and with its guts, he lashed five logs into a
> raft fit for his purpose.
> 
> Battle and Death
> 
> Honorus set the raft in motion. He had outfitted himself with the only
> item he would use in this fight which had not come out of the forest
> with him. A sword of Spanish steel, blue with the sky, lay in his lap.
> Soon, he felt the swell of the water disturb his raft: the monster
> was coming, yet he sat unmoving.
> 
> The beast broke the surface.
> 
> No human is perfect; a splinter of the collapsing raft clipped Honorus'
left
> foot as he leapt into the water. He had timed his jump slightly too late,
> but no matter, the injury will not be important until after the battle.
> 
> The monster was above the water only momentarily; time enough for Honorus
to
> drive his sword between two of its scales. The monster thrashed in pain,
> turning its exposed flesh from the steaming water. Honorus was lifted
from
> the water as the beast rolled. He gauged his stroke and leapt, striking
the
> monster's eye.
> 
> Angered and half-blinded, the beast threw Honorus into the river and
> grasped him in its immense jaws. Honorus swam quickly past the teeth
> into the monster's mouth. Inside, the questing tongue scalded his feet as
he
> searched for purchase; again, Honorus and we shall ignore this injury for
> now.
> 
> Once he had braced himself inside the beast's mouth, pushing with all his
> strength against the slowly rising tongue, he took aim. Honorus had time
to
> make only one thrust.
> 
> An Interlude: And Who Fought the Battle
> 
> When his journal recalls these events, it attributes Honorus' "luck" in
this
> battle to aid from the Divine. We do not wish to detract from the glory
of
> God, but surely He will not envy His servant. Is it coincidence that
> Honorus' blade struck true to the brain? Honorus had already studied
> carefully the anatomy of the salamander a week before he was summoned to
> fight the beast. Did Honorus not know that the water's rush against the
> beast's exposed flank would cause it such pain? In his journal, "August
24:
> And once I am atop the beast and it has rolled from the water, where then
to
> strike?"
> 
> A Solution Breeds More Questions
> 
> Two weeks after Honorus was told to lift the curse of London, the beast
was
> dead. The next day London celebrated Honorus; the town would live becuase
of
> him.Three days later, gratitude had disappeared.
> 
> The body of the beast had lodged itself firmly in the mire less than half
a
> mile downstream of London. Although it was yet intact (perhaps due to its
> incredible armor), it would surely soon rot. While not so great a terror,
> the rotting beast would be almost as dangerous as the live beast,
attracting
> disease and scavengers. No ship could move the carcass. The people of
London
> called upon Honorus.
> 
> Honorus' solution was difficult but practical, and he began as soon as he
> had retrieved his sword. He fasted for two days; then, he ate the cooked
> meat of the huge salamander and fasted for a third day. When he suffered
no
> ill effects, Honorus began dissecting the beast. With the help of London,
> Honorus soon had all the usable meat and intestines of the dead beast
> transformed into sausage.
> 
> A Solution Breeds New Solutions
> 
> A bizarre solution it was, but a good one. The sausage was soon
> discovered to be excellent and to keep easily for very long periods of
> time. Even more important, the sausage fast became incredibly popular
> throughout England and much of Europe. It began to reestablish the
> fame of London's trade after the Hiatus of the Beast.
> 
> Still, Honorus has one final contribution to this history... It became
> vital that everyone knew from whence the incredible sausage of
> London came, and thus we return to Honorus's injuries.
> 
> After the battle with the live beast and the crisis of the dead beast,
> Honorus took time to recover. Six weeks after he was first summoned,
> he was dressing the injuries on his feet. The problems of London were
> known to him. As he dipped a strip of paper-like gauze into a healing
> salve, he had a thought.
> 
> One week later, each sausage shipped from London carried a fascinating
> new development: a label. Just as the gauze dried and closed on
> Honorus' foot, the parchment around these sausages was attached; and all
> would know the fame of London from each link she sold.
> 
> A Simple End to a Strange Adventure
> 
> In the end, despite all his other feats, it was this idea, the product
> label, that survived Honorus. In tribute to this advance, the
> British Museum houses the only known surviving label from Honorus'
> sausages. And although even the tough gut of the Beast has long since
> faded to dust, the label may still be read. If our reader could go to the
> Museum and enter the Medieval wing's most treasured collection, she could
> still read, in faint letters, the Label of Honor:
> 
> It Was The Beast Of Thames, It Was The Wurst Of Thames
> 
> 
> 
> 
>