lonelyahavaCall me Ahava ~~She/Her~~Move to New ZealandRegistered Userregular
The woods were quiet.
It seemed as though the entire world held its breath, waiting for what was to happen next. The caravan of the Lord next Door was passing through the Wood and everybody in the area knew, they just knew, that something, something was about to happen. It had to. The woods had been abuzz with preparations for some show of whatever. There had been the clang of swinging hammers, the whoosh of arrows and other dramatic sounds.
But that had all quieted down now, now that the caravan was on its way. There was no movement, even the birds who usually were awake and noisy this early in the morning were waiting, silent and anticipating. The caravan crept closer, its golden chariot flashing from the rising sun, and the clank of armor echoing off the trees. And then, within moments, the long train of wealth and property were winding through the Wood. A beat.
Two beats.
And three.
The constant drum of armoured feet pounding the soft earth beneath the bodies of might. And then, through the otherworldly silence, the call of a hawk, a bird’s cry from up into the trees. The woodsmen and those hiding nearby to watch knew that no hawk would make a cry like that from the height of the trees, but the Normans with the gold and glitter and technology knew no difference.
And with a flurry of leaves and the crash of trees the way was blocked for this procession. In their path there stood a band of merry men, and one rather unusual looking... female? But in their center stood a man tall and valiant, his hat fit perfectly and it had a rather long feather in it, but surely he was not making up for anything with that, simply showing off.
The man with the feathered cap and the lead man of the procession glared at one another for a while, the bedecked one glaring up, ever upwards and the leader looking down to the dirt. “You Saxons are nothing but trouble. Out of the way, this is no business of yours.”
“But lo, i doth believe that it mutht be!” Spoke the man with the feathered cap. “Thou art within my wood, and upon my land, and I do not recall granting thee permission to do so! Off with ye, and there shalt be no bloodshed!”
“Foul creature!” roared the man on the horse, “Do you not know the proper use of your tongue! For the impudence of impeding our path you should die but once, but for the profanity and base use of our language you should die a dozen times! This land does not belong to you, Saxon. It belongs to the King! And to his Brother! And to all those who conquered you! Stand Aside little Rooster or I will see to it that you crow from the gallows!”
“Tsk tsk tsk. Thou dost not recognize the language of the land that thee hast abused and changed and made claim to it as they very own. But thou art the one with the large horse, so I do suppose that I should mark thy words and remove mineself from thy path. But know this, My Lord. The Saxon will not be held down for long. Thou shalt feel the might of the people rise up against thee and then, there shalt be blood spilt upon thy hands. And thy head. And perhaps other places as well.”
“Dare to threaten me, you cockerel! Foolish peasant! There is nothing that you Saxons can bring that will not be crushed with the might of a thousand hammers! Come at me, boy, and you will learn what the pain of might can do to those so far below. Step aside. “
And so the Saxons moved aside, allowing the caravan of wealth and goods to pass, the Lord glaring out from his carriage at the great unwashed mass around him. Although they were fairly clean to be honest, they had all bathed just this morning for this purpose. The Saxon group of Robin Hood were agreeable at this time to let the Norman Host go. They had other plans set in motion for the Prince and his followers. The strength of many can overcome the might of a few.
Well, the Saxons were happy to let the Norman Host through, all except for one. The strange female that had been hanging to the side, her hair a bright yellow, her skin an pale white, and her teeth far too large for her mouth. She howled with an angered fury at the thought of the prize slipping through her hands and she leapt towards the lead man with all her fury, her teeth bared, nails reaching for his throat.
And she was unceremoniously stabbed on a pike, tossed to the ground as the soldiers moved past, and left to die of the wounds to her abdomen. As the caravan passed the Saxons gathered around and shook their head. They lifted her now limp body and carried her off to be buried, the man with the feather in his cap shaking his head the whole way through. “Stupid Rosario, you never did know when to keep your mouth shut.”
Locus I'd be much more like to believe you Saxon if your avatar didn't clearly celebrate the victory of those vile Normans.
I will be 100% honest I cannot tell the difference between the Saxons and the Normans in the Bayeux Tapestry though I am aware that Harold is dying just to the right of my avatar guy.
Maybe I will try to find a guy who is clearly a Saxon.
In truth, dear friend, all men are equals in the eyes of god and medieval artisans. When we stand before the Lord we do not differ: why should we do so when placed on paper or cloth. So even vile Normans appear as Saxons in representation.
But, wherefore would you use the work of the devil Mathilde herself to prove your worth?
You all be Norman swine! At least I was only called useless by the fair maiden running this "game" we find our poor souls in.
To the Devil with this 11th century forum! 'Tis like my marm's dial-up!
I come not to praise B:L but to bury him. He was oft a shadow on our fair lands of Loxley. Doubtless, he made many a goodman uneasy by his mere presence. RIP, B:L. I'll drink wi ya in hell...
I come not to praise B:L but to bury him. He was oft a shadow on our fair lands of Loxley. Doubtless, he made many a goodman uneasy by his mere presence. RIP, B:L. I'll drink wi ya in hell...
Who is this B:L you speak of? I've not heard of such a man before.
Locus I'd be much more like to believe you Saxon if your avatar didn't clearly celebrate the victory of those vile Normans.
I will be 100% honest I cannot tell the difference between the Saxons and the Normans in the Bayeux Tapestry though I am aware that Harold is dying just to the right of my avatar guy.
Maybe I will try to find a guy who is clearly a Saxon.
Go forth Locus and bring us a Tapestry of the ages! One that speaks of our Saxon heritage, one whose very fabric will drive our Norman enemies mad with envy. It will be glorious!
This "Google" sounds like the most terrible kind of witchcraft.
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lonelyahavaCall me Ahava ~~She/Her~~Move to New ZealandRegistered Userregular
You have the entire nother day. Like, tomorrow night. 7pm for me, midnight for pacific coast tomorrow night. Please don't ask me to do the conversions....
Who is this B:L you speak of? I've not heard of such a man before.
Well, Rosario was the other name he was known as. Locus spoke of B L as well. The name is some sort of devil's work, as it shows as an "emoticon". What that may be, no one can tell...
I do say without a piece of paper attached to a tree (perhaps with an arrow(?)) tallying how many times people raise their voice, there isn't much incentive for them to speak at all. Curse this witchcraft that removes pieces of paper from trees.
I hath no patience for these scoundrels; why, o' why, Lord, hast thou accorded them safe passage betwixt forest and field that they may strike at the very heart of our blesséd land? Thine glory be told, but mine is the heart that hast grown unsettled.
"I am not young enough to know everything." - Oscar Wilde
Posts
It seemed as though the entire world held its breath, waiting for what was to happen next. The caravan of the Lord next Door was passing through the Wood and everybody in the area knew, they just knew, that something, something was about to happen. It had to. The woods had been abuzz with preparations for some show of whatever. There had been the clang of swinging hammers, the whoosh of arrows and other dramatic sounds.
But that had all quieted down now, now that the caravan was on its way. There was no movement, even the birds who usually were awake and noisy this early in the morning were waiting, silent and anticipating. The caravan crept closer, its golden chariot flashing from the rising sun, and the clank of armor echoing off the trees. And then, within moments, the long train of wealth and property were winding through the Wood. A beat.
Two beats.
And three.
The constant drum of armoured feet pounding the soft earth beneath the bodies of might. And then, through the otherworldly silence, the call of a hawk, a bird’s cry from up into the trees. The woodsmen and those hiding nearby to watch knew that no hawk would make a cry like that from the height of the trees, but the Normans with the gold and glitter and technology knew no difference.
And with a flurry of leaves and the crash of trees the way was blocked for this procession. In their path there stood a band of merry men, and one rather unusual looking... female? But in their center stood a man tall and valiant, his hat fit perfectly and it had a rather long feather in it, but surely he was not making up for anything with that, simply showing off.
The man with the feathered cap and the lead man of the procession glared at one another for a while, the bedecked one glaring up, ever upwards and the leader looking down to the dirt. “You Saxons are nothing but trouble. Out of the way, this is no business of yours.”
“But lo, i doth believe that it mutht be!” Spoke the man with the feathered cap. “Thou art within my wood, and upon my land, and I do not recall granting thee permission to do so! Off with ye, and there shalt be no bloodshed!”
“Foul creature!” roared the man on the horse, “Do you not know the proper use of your tongue! For the impudence of impeding our path you should die but once, but for the profanity and base use of our language you should die a dozen times! This land does not belong to you, Saxon. It belongs to the King! And to his Brother! And to all those who conquered you! Stand Aside little Rooster or I will see to it that you crow from the gallows!”
“Tsk tsk tsk. Thou dost not recognize the language of the land that thee hast abused and changed and made claim to it as they very own. But thou art the one with the large horse, so I do suppose that I should mark thy words and remove mineself from thy path. But know this, My Lord. The Saxon will not be held down for long. Thou shalt feel the might of the people rise up against thee and then, there shalt be blood spilt upon thy hands. And thy head. And perhaps other places as well.”
“Dare to threaten me, you cockerel! Foolish peasant! There is nothing that you Saxons can bring that will not be crushed with the might of a thousand hammers! Come at me, boy, and you will learn what the pain of might can do to those so far below. Step aside. “
And so the Saxons moved aside, allowing the caravan of wealth and goods to pass, the Lord glaring out from his carriage at the great unwashed mass around him. Although they were fairly clean to be honest, they had all bathed just this morning for this purpose. The Saxon group of Robin Hood were agreeable at this time to let the Norman Host go. They had other plans set in motion for the Prince and his followers. The strength of many can overcome the might of a few.
Well, the Saxons were happy to let the Norman Host through, all except for one. The strange female that had been hanging to the side, her hair a bright yellow, her skin an pale white, and her teeth far too large for her mouth. She howled with an angered fury at the thought of the prize slipping through her hands and she leapt towards the lead man with all her fury, her teeth bared, nails reaching for his throat.
And she was unceremoniously stabbed on a pike, tossed to the ground as the soldiers moved past, and left to die of the wounds to her abdomen. As the caravan passed the Saxons gathered around and shook their head. They lifted her now limp body and carried her off to be buried, the man with the feather in his cap shaking his head the whole way through. “Stupid Rosario, you never did know when to keep your mouth shut.”
The Dead
B:L-Rosario the Saxon
Democrats Abroad! || Vote From Abroad
Damn, I should have taken Edmund as a name!
Confusion will be my epitaph
Locus I'd be much more like to believe you Saxon if your avatar didn't clearly celebrate the victory of those vile Normans.
I will be 100% honest I cannot tell the difference between the Saxons and the Normans in the Bayeux Tapestry though I am aware that Harold is dying just to the right of my avatar guy.
Maybe I will try to find a guy who is clearly a Saxon.
The tapestry may not be the best source for pro-saxon art in any case.
In truth, dear friend, all men are equals in the eyes of god and medieval artisans. When we stand before the Lord we do not differ: why should we do so when placed on paper or cloth. So even vile Normans appear as Saxons in representation.
But, wherefore would you use the work of the devil Mathilde herself to prove your worth?
Golly, what a day
Would this be a confession of your sins, Locus?
To the Devil with this 11th century forum! 'Tis like my marm's dial-up!
The Black Hole of Cygnus X-1
I come not to praise B:L but to bury him. He was oft a shadow on our fair lands of Loxley. Doubtless, he made many a goodman uneasy by his mere presence. RIP, B:L. I'll drink wi ya in hell...
The Black Hole of Cygnus X-1
Who is this B:L you speak of? I've not heard of such a man before.
Go forth Locus and bring us a Tapestry of the ages! One that speaks of our Saxon heritage, one whose very fabric will drive our Norman enemies mad with envy. It will be glorious!
Although I do believe !SLyM deserves my scorn. He has betrayed my trust once before and I'm certain that he cannot be trusted.
Democrats Abroad! || Vote From Abroad
Alas, I am finding my poor hands clumsy at illuminating this manuscript!
Ah well, I cast my bones and they come up Romanqwerty the Frederick, clearly a Norman in disguise!
Well, Rosario was the other name he was known as. Locus spoke of B L as well. The name is some sort of devil's work, as it shows as an "emoticon". What that may be, no one can tell...
The Black Hole of Cygnus X-1
Zithra Melitch in Star Wars: An Empire's End
Jellica in In the Shadow of Zeus
He knows what evil he hath wrought.
The Black Hole of Cygnus X-1
The Black Hole of Cygnus X-1
JaysonFour
Dead players are shown in italics
Does anyone enjoy KC?
The Black Hole of Cygnus X-1
Yes. At least power and light district is fun.
Also, I nailed the bbcode on my phone. Booyah
E: the mobile version of the forums is nicer than the normal version. Odd
This is sweet! I
Zithra Melitch in Star Wars: An Empire's End
Jellica in In the Shadow of Zeus
The Black Hole of Cygnus X-1
YES YES YES YES YES YES.
;-)
Okay this just made me laugh REALLY hard.
ALL THAT OUT OF THE WAY. Ahem.
I hath no patience for these scoundrels; why, o' why, Lord, hast thou accorded them safe passage betwixt forest and field that they may strike at the very heart of our blesséd land? Thine glory be told, but mine is the heart that hast grown unsettled.
Steam: Chagrin LoL: Bonhomie
!REG Rysk], I've had enough of your ringleadership! :P
Please don't kill me. (again.)
Steam: Chagrin LoL: Bonhomie
!REG Rysk
Steam: Chagrin LoL: Bonhomie