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By Dark Lord Dörgu Bøgerleshk, Bane of the Nrymbobl, Usurper of Forlorn Souls, Blood Govourner of the Flaming Infernal Swamplands

Our present tymes have many people questioning their lyfe choices. The plague is abating, the Forces of Evil have been defeated on the fields battle, and from the point of view of the “good” lords and ladies things seem to be on the up-and-up.

And yet, knights errant and petty foot soldiers alike are asking themselves the same questions: Was I really meant to serve the Forces of Light? Should I really be living an honest and just existence? Is it tyme for me to take a turn towards The Darkness?

The answer is a resounding YEA. Now is the PERFECT TYME to become a slave minion in the Dark Army. And I’ll tell thee why.

A Chance to Do Something Terrible

When was the last tyme you had a chance to do something completely and utterly despicable? Something so horrible that it literally blotted mankind out of existence? In the Dark Army, the perpetual misery of humanity will be thy one and only concern. Along with tax collectors, this is one of the only career fields dedicated to thrusting the Realm into Everlasting Gloom, where Evil and Darkness reign supreme.

Be Part of A Growing Organization

For the tyme being, the Dark Army has been kept at bay by the Forces of Light, and it seems like we’re down and out. But the truth is we’re just regathering our forces, building strength for that fateful day when we shall cast the Realm into Eternal Shadow. And you can get in at the ground level—literally—because your orc commander will pummel your face into the dirt every day!

An Opportunity to Be a Cog in the Machine

As slave minion in the Dark Army, you’ll get to be an unnoticeably insignificant yet vital part of the effort to crush civilization out of existence, a “cog in ye olde machine” as they say. We’re specifically hiring for Cogs and Senior Cogs. There’s no wages, since you’ll be a slave, but you’ll get one square meal a day, and as a Senior Cog you don’t get flogged as much.

Ye Benefits

There are none. But if you’re already a peasant then that’s not much of a change, right?

Predictability

Who wants to go to work every morning without knowing what to expect? Will there be an outbreak of cholera in our platoon? Will my Crust Lieutenant be in a bad mood and sever one of my appendages in a blind rage? Will the morning meeting be rescheduled?

In the Dark Army you don’t have to worry about that, because our days are predictable. You can rest assured that your existence will be equally miserable every single moment of your pathetic existence, right up until the day you’re crushed in battle by a horde of retreating giants.

Concklusion

By now methinks it is safe to assume I’ve convinced you to join the Forces of Darkness. Lucky for you, our recruiting process has never been easier. Simply wander into the Forest of Ill Fortunes or whatever your local place of torment is and one of our roving patrols will kidnap you. (Apologies ahead of time about the beating you’ll get, that’s just protocol). If they don’t accidentally kill you on the way back to base, you’ll be well on your way to becoming a slave minion in the Dark Army!

Addendum: The Caxton Advertisement

The small poster above is about the size of a deck of cards and is purported to be the oldest surviving print advertisement in the English language. It was printed by William Caxton in 1476 or 1477, and advertises the Sarum Ordinale or Sarum Pye, a handbook for priests. It was likely meant to be hung on a wall or door, and entices customers to come to Caxton’s bookshop (which was also his house), the “Red Pale,” where they “have them good chepe.”

The Latin at the bottom reads “Supplico stet cedula,” which is helpfully translated in another surviving version of the ad:

“Pray, do not pull down the Advertisement.”

Caxton wasn’t just the first Englishman to employ spammy advertising tactics—he also introduced the printing press to England in 1476, which he had learned to use while living in Cologne.

He set up his printing press at his house in Westminster Abbey, where a memorial to him was inscribed in 1954. The name the Red Pale probably indicates that his house’s/shop’s sign included a shield with a vertical red stripe down the middle, which is called a pale in heraldry.

The full ad reads, in Middle English:

"If it plese any man spirituel or temporel to bye ony pyes of two and thre commemoraios of Salisburi use empryntid after the forme of this preset lettre whiche ben wel and truly correct, late hym to come to Westmonester in to the almonry at the reed pale and he shal have them good chepe. Supplicio stet cedula [please do not remove this handbill]."

Further reading on Caxton and his advertisement:

• Erik Kwakkel’s blog has a more detailed look at the ad

• Caxton’s Wikipedia page

• More about Caxton’s life