flyingchicken
Deity
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2007
- Messages
- 3,783
On horseback and fully armed and armored, Erik was like a knight of troubadours' tales. By his side was his lance, by which he will skewer the ignoble Poles and bring victory to his country and fame and honor unto himself.
At one end of Erik's lance was a battle-banner of blue and gold, flapping vigorously against the whipping of a cold autumn wind as he held it aloft in preparation for a great thunderous charge by he and his Swedish brethren.
A tear ran down his left cheek and into his bushy mustache-and-beard; he looked up to the clear blue sky and he knew: Sweden's glory is at hand! For Sweden! For the Crown! For—
There was a great ka-thunk! and Erik fell off his horse, bringing the banner of Sweden down with him.
“Hehe, got one!”
“How could you tell?”
“I saw my bullet fly true, of course!”
“Bullets don't 'fly true,' Ludsky,” said Ludomierz's fellow musket-man and friend, Czeslaw. “They—they just don't.”
“No—“
“Besides, we both full well know there were hundreds of bullets and you damn very well can't tell which one's whose.”
Ludsky was quietly staring at Czech with an unreadable expression, and then said: “I was looking straight at it since it left my barrel.” Ludsky was more than a little smug. “Never left my sight, it didn't.”
Czeslaw did not bother responding, of course, and all in good time, too: the Swedes seemed to be stirring in the distance, and their commander was ordering another round of fire.
Erik's horse, upon hearing the frightening clash of steel that came with its rider's fall, gave a great neigh and it was off towards the Poles in a gallop, signaling other horsemen to exclaim: “For Sweden! For the Crown! For Glory! Hi-yaaah!”
OOC: Thank you for the tip, azale!
At one end of Erik's lance was a battle-banner of blue and gold, flapping vigorously against the whipping of a cold autumn wind as he held it aloft in preparation for a great thunderous charge by he and his Swedish brethren.
A tear ran down his left cheek and into his bushy mustache-and-beard; he looked up to the clear blue sky and he knew: Sweden's glory is at hand! For Sweden! For the Crown! For—
There was a great ka-thunk! and Erik fell off his horse, bringing the banner of Sweden down with him.
*
“Hehe, got one!”
“How could you tell?”
“I saw my bullet fly true, of course!”
“Bullets don't 'fly true,' Ludsky,” said Ludomierz's fellow musket-man and friend, Czeslaw. “They—they just don't.”
“No—“
“Besides, we both full well know there were hundreds of bullets and you damn very well can't tell which one's whose.”
Ludsky was quietly staring at Czech with an unreadable expression, and then said: “I was looking straight at it since it left my barrel.” Ludsky was more than a little smug. “Never left my sight, it didn't.”
Czeslaw did not bother responding, of course, and all in good time, too: the Swedes seemed to be stirring in the distance, and their commander was ordering another round of fire.
*
Erik's horse, upon hearing the frightening clash of steel that came with its rider's fall, gave a great neigh and it was off towards the Poles in a gallop, signaling other horsemen to exclaim: “For Sweden! For the Crown! For Glory! Hi-yaaah!”
(The Adventures of Ludsky and Czech, Entry I)
OOC: Thank you for the tip, azale!
