Superhawk surveyed the scene before him and scowled. The louvetrain, a vast plain stretching from Mount Saranik in the west to the River Faan in the east was filled with the massed armies of the Coalition. All had sworn to protect their patron, the Commissar of Politburo.

As he recalled the events of the last month and how his plans had been thwarted at every turn, the Barbarian King’s scowl became darker. His entire scheme to exact revenge on the blogstates for the insult done to him and his people and especially, the Commissar’s failure to recognize he and he alone as the one, true Lord of the Wingnut Hordes had come to naught.

He should have realized the gods were against him when he arrived at the River of Wisdom and prepared to attack that clown King Goldy. The King had played a royal joke on Superhawk for instead of finding a real, live army of fighting men, he found thousands of wax dummies, all bearing a remarkable resemblance to Martha Stewart. It turns out Goldy had fled with his entire army and while this allowed Superhawk to cross the river unmolested, it soured the mood of his barbarian hordes who thirsted for the blood of the civilized tribes of the Coalition.

He could almost hear King Goldy cackling with laughter as his entire army slipped away to fight another day.

Then his warriors moved into the mountains where the Barbarian King planned on destroying the Prince and the armies of Uncorrelatia. Alas, the Prince had let loose huge boulders that caused several devastating avalanches effectively blocking the passes through the mountains. Superhawk was forced to hurriedly backtrack and take the long, tortuous route to Politburo through the Marshes of Mindinik.

It was at this point that the Barbarian King began to doubt that the gods were on his side. Not only did the marshes cause him to lose many horses and men, but his hordes were plagued by hit and run attacks of King Rusty’s Jawa Raiders. Appearing and disappearing in the mist like so many wraiths, his weary army had all they could handle to fight the ghostly figures off.

The final disappointment came when his warriors at last made it through the marshes and emerged onto the louvetrain only to find not only the Prince and King Goldy blocking his way to Politburo, but his once beloved Attila and her Amazonians joining them. Evidently his bribe had failed to entice the former Barbarian Queen to abandon her erstwhile husband, King Rusty’s son, and slip quietly away.

So now here he was on a hill overlooking the plain, surveying the Coalition forces. He was outnumbered at least three to one. His squabbling hordes were becoming more and more restless. And there was word that the Great Lord of the Blog States, King Andy of the Duchy of Insti, was on his way with a powerful force intent on cutting off his retreat.

A commotion in the camp distracted him. As he turned, he saw the faithful Avtari approaching at a gallop, waving a piece of paper.

“M’Lord! M’Lord! It’s from the Commissar! He wishes a peace treaty!”

Avtari jumped from his horse and rushed excitedly to the side of his Lord.

“Speak.” Superhawk commanded. “A peace treaty you say?”

“Aye, M’Lord. It’s signed by all the Kings of all the Blogstates. They want an alliance.”

Superhawk’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “An alliance?” In the name of Tao why?”

Avtari smiled. “The Kossacs are coming.”

The Kossacs! The beast men from beyond the Moonbat Sea!

“Are you sure? Is this some kind of trick?”

“No M’Lord. The Coalition captured some Kossac outriders yesterday. I saw them with my own eyes. Before being boiled in Torg dung, they confessed that a mighty fleet set sail from Eschaton and will land in Blogland within a fortnight.”

Superhawk thought about that for a moment. Obviously, the beast men weren’t smart enough to come up with something so sophisticated as an attack across the Moonbat Sea. Besides, they had no knowledge of boat making. Their tiny brains knew only of chaos and darkness. King Atrios must be behind this attack on the Blogstates. And where King Atrios led, the Troll hordes from the Underground were never far behind. A wave of revulsion swept over the Barbarian King. No one deserved to be manhandled by the Trolls of the Underground.

“What of my claim, Avtari? Will the Blogstates recognize me as the one true Lord of the Wingnuts?”

“Yes, M’Lord. The Commissar has agreed. There is to be a banquet in the Hall of Revolutionary Heroes tonight. You are to be an honored guest.”

Better brush up on my table manners, thought Superhawk.

And so that night, in the mighty hall named for long dead but not much lamented heroes, Superhawk joined the company of Coalition kings as an equal. Well…almost an equal. For while the food was good and the fellowship was hearty, there was a certain reserve between the leaders of the Coalition and the Wingnuts. A reminder perhaps that after facing the common threat, their “alliance” could very well dissolve and they would once again be mortal enemies.

Superhawk smiled a grim little smile at the thought. He would bide his time. And there would come a day when the Coalition would once again tremble at the sound of 10,000 horses thundering across the louvetrain, his hordes in full-throated howls as his half naked warriors lusted for blood, rapine, and slaughter. And they would once again strike terror into the civilized tribes of Blogland.