THE LEGEND OF BILLO STUMBLESHANKS
A Trench Wars Fan-Side Disaster — as recounted by an extremely unreliable gnome.
If you ask any Clockworks City gnome about the Legend of Billo Stumbleshanks, you’ll get one of three responses:
A groan.
A prayer.
Or a sudden, urgent need to leave the room.
Because everyone knows Billo.
Or rather—they think they do.
Only one problem: every story about him contradicts the last.
Which is exactly why I, Pivver Thimblebrass (professional witness, amateur survivor), am here to set the record straight.
…Probably.
It happened during Trench Wars Final Match Season 4
Two million screaming fans packed the new megastadium. So many bodies, the place shook like an over-caffeinated thunderbug. Vendors were weaving through the press of bodies selling steaming gear-oil stew, glowworms on sticks, and questionable snacks that smelled like pickled lightning.
I had terrific seats, though,…three rows up from the railing, close enough that when the spiraling pyres ignited along the arena edges, the heat crisped my eyebrows.
That’s when I first saw him.
Billo Stumbleshanks.
Standing on his seat.
Cloak whipping dramatically.
Goggles reflecting the firelight like some ancient oracle.
Holding a paper cone of fried crisps in one hand like it was a holy relic.
Every gnome in the section gasped.
“Is that—?” someone whispered.
“It can’t be—” said another.
“I lost three teeth because of that guy,” muttered a third.
But he was unmistakable.
The legendary figure.
The myth.
The gnome who once attempted to ride a Trench Wars S.L.A.G. back when the rules explicitly stated:
“Do not ride the S.L.A.G.s.”
Also the gnome who rewrote the rules one emergency surgery later, when the new rule became:
“Seriously, do NOT ride the S.L.A.G.s.”
Billo raised a hand.
The crowd around him quieted.
He pointed across the arena to the S.L.A.G. pits where the competitors rolled out.
“You all see that?” he said.
We all strained to follow his gesture. Two S.L.A.G.s…hulking, steel-plated monsters…stalked toward their position in the arena, pyres swirling around them like glowing tornados.
“That,” Billo said gravely, “is a machine designed to cause dramatic suffering.”
He paused.
“And I,” he added, “intend to bet my entire savings on the black one.”
Someone gasped.
Someone fainted.
Someone shouted, “Billo, NO!”
But he was already climbing.
Up the railing.
Past the barrier.
Standing where no sane gnome stands—right at the edge of the fall to the arena floor.
The flames lit him like a prophet.
“THERE’S ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT WHO WINS!” he declared.
Then he spread his arms dramatically, nearly losing his fried crisps to the wind.
“That’s not how betting works!” I yelled.
But he was beyond reason.
This is where things get a bit… fuzzy.
In fairness, half the section was screaming, the other half trying to stop him, and all of us were very aware of the Trench Wars stadium security, who had a strict policy of “taser first, ask questions later.”
I swear I remember Billo leaning forward to “get a better angle.”
Truly.
That’s all he meant to do.
I also remember the railing being unusually polished that day. Almost… greased.
Which may, or may not, depending on who you ask, have contributed to what happened next:
Billo Stumbleshanks vanished over the edge.
One moment he was there.
The next—gone.
Screams erupted.
“He fell!”
“He jumped!”
“He slipped on a beetle!”
“It wasn’t me!” I yelled preemptively.
Down below, the two S.L.A.G.s paused mid-stomp, scanning the pit as something small, round, and screaming plummeted between them.
That something was Billo.
The stadium went silent.
Two million spectators held their breath.
Even the pyres around the arena spiraled slower, as if the flames themselves didn’t want to miss the ending.
Billo hit the sand in a cloud of dust and fried crisp crumbs.
The S.L.A.G.s turned toward him.
The crowd gasped.
Security panicked.
I fainted (briefly, heroically).
And Billo…legend, menace, walking lawsuit…pushed himself to his feet, wobbled, and shouted up at us:
“I’M FINE!”
The stadium exploded with cheers.
Now, what happened next depends entirely on who tells the story.
Some say Billo tamed the nearest S.L.A.G. with sheer charisma.
Some say he challenged it to a duel.
Some say he tried to steal it and got electrocuted so hard his hair grew back.
Me?
I distinctly remember him pointing at the towering machine and declaring:
“ROUND TWO!”
…right before it flicked him across the arena like a bread crumb.
But hey—memory’s tricky.
I was concussed at the time.
The Facts (as much as can be verified):
Billo survived.
The crowd loved it.
Security hated it.
The S.L.A.G. remained un-ridden (thankfully, for all involved).
The spiraling pyres resumed their show.
Billo was banned from the stadium for “reckless enthusiasm, property damage, and attempted S.L.A.G. boarding (again).”
He will absolutely sneak back in next season.
And that, friends, is the real story of Billo Stumbleshanks.
…Probably.
If there are inconsistencies, inaccuracies, or impossible details, please remember:
I did get hit by a flying gnome that day.
So, you know.
Unreliable narrator. Occupational hazard.
Lore Note by Höbin Luckyfeller
Filed under: Trench Wars Folklore – Spectator Incidents (Category: Preventable Chaos)
After extensive interviews, three signed affidavits, one medical bill, and a surprising amount of fried beetle residue, I have concluded the following:
1. Billo Stumbleshanks exists.
Unfortunately.
2. The incident described absolutely occurred, though eyewitness accounts range from “gravity-assisted misfortune” to “intentional stunt for spiritual enlightenment.”
3. Trench Wars security has now updated their official spectator guidelines, including the new clause:
“No standing on railings, no leaning over barriers, and absolutely no Stumbleshanksing under any circumstances.”
4. Stadium archives confirm a temporary disruption in S.L.A.G. pathing protocols at the precise moment Billo entered the arena. This has led some engineers to theorize that the S.L.A.G.s recognized him and chose diplomatic restraint.
Others insist the S.L.A.G.s simply “did not wish to touch whatever that was.”
5. The spiraling pyres do, indeed, react to dramatic tension.
This is not supernatural.
This is physics.
Gnome physics, but physics nonetheless.
6. All reports indicate the narrator of this tale suffered a mild concussion, severe indignation, and a brief identity crisis.
Therefore, details should be considered colorful approximations of probable events, and not legally actionable testimony.
Archivist’s Summary
Billo Stumbleshanks is not a hero.
He is not a villain.
He is a cautionary diagram with legs.
But as a folkloric figure of the Trench Wars spectator culture, he has become a beloved, exasperating symbol of unfiltered enthusiasm.
If referencing this account at the end of Season 5, consider this historian’s humble advice:
“Heroes inspire crowds.
Billo inspires rule updates.”
— Höbin Luckyfeller
Gnome Historian, Witness to Too Much
Clockworks City Lore Registry
P.S. For those who care, this very situation has a direct reference in the Chronicles serial: Chapter 71 - When It Rains, It Pours.
That was a fun ride!