About sirryan413

Knight and loyal servant of the court of King Jeff, admirer from afar of Lady Stephanie, defender of truth, seeker of wisdom, and betimes maker of Fried Chicken at the local KFC.

Winter Solstice = Illegal

Hello my fellow Byron City-ans,

I read the post by the outlaw Lady Cerridwen. Here is my response.

Since becoming thy Mayor legally and fairly without corruption as some hath supposed, I have only used this blog to announce official city business and occasionally to stop some more inflammatory posts that would disrupt the peace of our city. And so it is now.

I hereby announce that anyone caught attending Saturday’s Winter Solstice Celebration at Moon’s Field shall be arrested and jailed immediately. Also forthwith, anyone caught dressed like a Celt shall be jailed. However, people dressed in Medieval garb shall be permitted to do so. There’s a big difference, trust me. They look like complete nerds, we look dignified.

So let this be a first and final warning to ye of the Celtic Club. Your subversive Winter Solstice Celebration shall not occur, under penalty of jailing and fines.

And if ye bring foam swords and resist my rule, I and my posse of Mayoral guards shall respond in kind with our own foam weapon infantry, the likes of which would make ye piss your pantaloons. Do not try me. Ye shall fail.

My Mayoral Guard. I shall not hesitate to unleash them.

My Mayoral Guard. I shall not hesitate to unleash them.


10 Mayor Decrees from Sir Ryan

Hark ho, mine faithful citizens of ye olde Byron City! It has been thence a few weeks, nigh unto a fortnight, since I was’st crowned Mayor and Ruler of Byron City, and things hath already improve’ed much. The streets be cleaner, the crime rate doth wane, and the hearts of all citizens e’rywhere be full of mirth and gayety (I meanest this in the original interpretation of “gay,” so stop laughing at me when I say that. Grow thou up.)

But lo! even more joy is on the way! I have, with the assistance of my loyal aide, Jester Dave, created a list of Mayoral decrees, effective hence thus now and forever after.

10 Mayoral Decrees 

1- Medieval Fridays
On the last Friday of each month, all citizens must dress in medieval garb and not use modern technology. Thou shalt find it fun.

2- Giant Turkey Legs
All restaurants must add Giant Turkey Legs to their menus. Even vegan restaurants, including Just Beet It, Soy Story, and Faux Bowl.

3- New LARP Arena
We will be levying taxes to build a new medieval Live Action Role Playing arena (LARP). T’will be the coolest thing on the planet, and medieval clubs from all over shall flock to our city to battle and hurl Nerf fireballs at one another, greatly improving the economy of our kingdom.

4- Mayor Chuck Exiled
Former Mayor Chuck is thus banned from office forever and his coat of arms replaced with a chicken-headed minstrel. And his house shall no longer considered part of Byron City. It’s now known as Loserville, population: 1.

5- Stephanie is Now my Girlfriend
Stephanie Banks-Dixon must be my official lady faire (my girlfriend). She may stay married to her husband if she likes, that’s cool, so long as he doesn’t hurt me and thou go’est on dates with me now and then, forsooth, perhaps the Grey Elf Tribe Annual Mixer tonight?

Seriously? That’s it? Lame.

6- Game Guides at Library
Byron City library must stock RPG game guides. The library current offers only the Buffy the Vampire slayer RPG guide, which verily is super lame.

7- No More Celtic Club
Since its lameness doth exceed the lameness of all things lame, the Celtic Club and is hereby dismantled, and all members are now part of the superior Medieval Club (except for Lady Cerridwen, who I wouldn’t let be mine house maid). All the Celtics died anyways, so there you go, losers.

8- Byron High’s New Mascot
Byron High’s new mascot shall be the Barnacle Goose, and the Cheerleaders shall be known as the Harpy Squad. The name doth fit.

9- Chinese Food Delivery
Happy Good Chinese Food must deliver even if the order doth not exceed $10. I mean, come on. Art thou serious? And I shall not tip the delivery man if he giveth me a weird look when I pay in quarters from my coin purse.

10- King Jeff Must Give Back my Nickleback CD
I’m serious, I know thou hath it. Thou can still be King of the Medieval Club, I just want’est my CD back.

That is all, but there be more to come. I admonish all citizens to adhere to these decrees, lest ye find yourselves in the disfavor of the honorable Mayor of the land of Byron.

Stephanie, I’ll pick you up at 5 tonight.

– His High Mayoral Eminence Sir Ryan.

A Love Sonnet for Ye, Fair Wench

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and technically married:
Rough winds do shake your windows in May
whilst I spy on thee from the dark bushes
Sometime thy lover with a baseball bat doth scare
And often is his red complexion seen
Yet I continue to love thee from afar
For the restraining order thou didst place
So undeservedly after my last post
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of my love thou wants
But has of yet to know thou want’est it

So long as I can breathe I will love thee,
Just tell thy husband to stop hitting me.

Written by Sir Ryan and William Shakespeare, in honor of St. Valentine’s Day for ye fair wench Stephanie Banks-Dickson

P.S. Forgive my misuse of iambic pentameter. I am much afflicted with passionate humours.

Verily, the Renaissance Festival is Nigh!

Yea, verily, the 2012 Byron City Renaissance Festival is nigh at hand! On this coming day of Satur, tomorrow, we will meet to feast on mead, giant turkey legs, shepherd’s pie, cinnamon almonds, and probably some nachos. Ooo! And funnel cakes.

Come one, come all, to the event of the yesteryear! Witness jousting, puppetry, sword swallowing, blacksmithery, flute-ery, large breasted saucy wenches, men with whimsical facial hair, stacks of hay everywhere, Goths who want a change of scenery, and the faint but constant smell of manure.

Partake in the mirth and merriment with our many games, such as “Jacob’s Ladder, “ “Throw the Pie at the Jester,” “Duck-Duck-Small Pox,” and “Who’s Got My Syphilis?” And if ye seek boldly, ye may even find “Ye Olde Kissing Booth” to satisfy ye lusty desires for romance with an enchanting mistress…or mister if that be your preference. We got complaints last year.

I wilst be there the day entire, and wiltst be performing my sword swallowing act, though I never did find my custom-made fire sword of Arakron. Other shows: Sir Billy shall be performing a juggling act, Sir Gary will be performing a Jester Comedy act, and Sir Arnold will be doing people’s taxes. It’s that time of year, and he could use the money.

So come one, come all!  Fill your belly and your lust for gaiety ( the old definition…not that there be anything wrong with the new definition, I’m just sayin’…) at the Byron City Renaissance Festival!

Tickets be $20 for ladies and gents, $10 for lads, lasses, and the elderly. We accept cash, credit, bags of Spanish doubloons, pieces of eight, or the head of the nefarious tyrant King Henry the 8th! Haha, but seriously, just bring cash or credit. No checks.

Oh, and if ye see a man dressed like Jack Sparrow at the festival, report it to the authorities immediately. He is NOT allowed to be there.

King Jeff and Queen Kaitlyn enjoying a royal feast.

Merriment and Gaiety.

The fair wench working the kissing booth this year! My my!

And this is the male option at the kissing booth.

A vile thief hath stolen my fire saber from my bedside table

Hark! Alarm and panick! It hath been discover’d that the mysic Fire Saber of Arakron, a sword that hath been in my possession for many a fortnight, hath been most nefariously stolen by an unknown villain, a thief so vile and unscrupulous that no morals did stop him from pillaging it from my grasp, and whose skill is so cunning that the forrest-mage spell of protection I placed on it had no effect.

The missing Fire Saber while'st still in my possession.

Twas last seen last night either at ye olde pub, known as Jerry’s Pub, or my bedside table. I can’st not remember which for sure, as I had a few flagons of ale which rendered my memory unreliable. The Fire Saber of Arakron twas custom made for me, forged in the fires of Arnold’s Auto Body Shop by mine friend Dave for the price of 250 doubloons (dollars) and some free buckets of KFC now and then when I’m working behind the counter.

The debased fool no doubt wishes to harness its powers of fire spell casting and charisma charms for his own depraved purposes. The buffoon will no doubt find such spells difficult to master, as I have trained with the blade many a fortnight to perfect such skills. But alas, I yet fear. Should you locate the blade or the foul nave who did’st lift it from me, I beg of thee, contact me post haste, as the blade has the power to make good men better, and wretched men even more wicked. Heaven forbid the blade should begin talking to him. Then all humankind may be lost.

T’What? Fire Sword of Arakron
T’When? Around 9:30pm, Thursday, March 22, the 2012th year of our Lord.
W’Where? My quarters at Hillside Apartments, or Jerry’s Pub
Ye Reward? Verily. $100

If found, contact me at  sirryan413@gmail.com

Artist rendering

P.S. The blade will only cast its charisma charm when it is in my possession, and only works on fair wenches. It is of no use to common folk, so please do not keep the blade for yourselves.

New Law: Citizens who break the hearts of City Counsel Members Must Pay Fine

by Sir Ryan: Leader and Apologist for Byron City Medieval Club

Hark! A proclamation! It is henceforth thus again’st the law to break the hearts of those humbly serving on the City Counsel, because it hurts and shows great malice and I would’st have been the best thing to happen to thee, but now ‘tis too late. Thou had’st thy chance.

Stocks as punishment is also still under consideration

Those caught breaking this new and most sacred law will suffer a penalty of $1000 and must go out to dinner with me just once. For if thou were’st to give me a chance, I would’st win thee over, but nay, thou would’st prefer to sit around thy home laughing at the milk-livered lout, throwing my love tokens back in my face and thinking of ways to hurt me.

Oh, what a gay happy meeting we might have had. But nay, thou art a cold wench without natural affection, and thus will be required to pay the fine and return the pictures I crafted with our faces on Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt’s bodies using Photoshop. A pox on thee, ye outlaw wagtail!

Also, should ye be caught cruelly stabbing the heart of the counsel member thou hold’est in thine hands and throw’est it upon the ground, though wilt be required to return the CD of mandolin and lute cover songs I made thee (I wonder if thou did’st even listen to the “Beyonce Crazy in Love” cover, fowl harpy), and the jigsaw puzzle that, when completed, spells out “I love thee, maiden pookie bear.”

Thus, I shall be coming ‘round to collect the penalty for all those who most treacherously broke the hearts of the humble servants on the counsel.

Also, we’ll also be installing a new stop sign on the corner of Brine and Appleberry road.

I proclaim my love for Stephanie Banks-Dickson, I pray her husband doesn’t read this.

I henceforth thus proclaim mine undying affection for the fair maiden Stephanie of the house of Banks-Dickson. Though she be wed to an’other, though she feigns not to know of my existence since our days in high school, and though she has oft times complained of me to the local authorities, I can no longer hold my tongue! (Hopefully thy husband is not a reader of this blog, else our exchange be known and he beat the crap out of me)

If I am yet found wanting of thy love, may I be stricken with the plague, or even a zombie virus, for this past fortnight I have played “Left 4 Dead 2” on King Jeff’s “Box of X” and have not only found the game to be most favorable, but the fate of the undead to be most gruesome, and would rather wander the world as one of these loathsome creatures than live a life without thy love. I’d rather endure that torment than live without the ability to call thy number and then quickly hang up when thou answerest, a life where I can no longer wear the headband you dropped at last year’s 5k, a life where I cans’t not pluck hair from thine hairbrush when thou are’st gone and use it to make dolls of thee and our unborn’ed children. Such a world would be a ghoulish nightmare indeed.

Without thy love, going on quests to Little Caesar’s PIzza in thy name would’st just seem weird.

Not that I have done any of those things.

I know thou hast rejected my petitions many times before, but I implore thee, consider mine recent rise to power and prestige in the City Counsel, and if ANY portion of thine heart doth yearn to be one with mine, hang a yellow scarf from thy window as a token of thy love. Don’t worry. I’ve already placed the scarf in thy closet.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate”

Eternally your knight,

Sir Ryan of the Kingdom of Steven

P.S. That poetry couplet twas Shakespeare. Iambic pentameter. I am an intellectual.