Launching Erik
Once upon a time, myself and my fellow Vikings ventured to Cadbury Castle to conquer the lands and pillage a few Saxons. The lands in South Cadbury are fine and crowned with the magnificent Hill Fort, which although affords wonderful views of the locale, is an bit of an bastard to climb, being some 500ft high.
But climb we did, and fight we did as well. All day the Castle rang to the sound of blade on blade, and spear on shield, and in brief we were having a bloody good scrap and lots of fun.
One of our mighty army, was a warrior by the name of Erik; a tall, handsome, dark haired man of wealth and status, earned by being a fearsome opponent and demonstrated by his attire in battle. His rich red kirtle was worn under a beautiful coat of the finest chainmail, which shone like stars in the sunlight and also weighed about a tonne. No Saxon blade could pierce such armour, but it did mean that he'd get a little bit out of breath if giving chase.
The battles continued to rage until we found ourselves at the summit of the fort. We gazed at the vista and the cows that were staring back at us, and took a rest amongst the thickets of thistles and cowpats that adorned the peak.
These thistles and cowpats were also an bit of an bastard, as from time-to-time if one wasn't careful, one would find themselves up to their ankles in sharp bits or sh*t, so it was prudent to look where you were going.
Our rest was over when we saw another army of Saxons approaching us. We stood ready to fight, and our leader and Erik asked boldly what they were doing on the lands. They were not in the mood to parley, and so we took our positions on the top of the hill. They charged at us, and Erik, being a brave and fearless warrior, charged himself straight at their shieldwall.
Unfortunately, the mighty Erik tripped on an errant thistle.
Erik, literally took flight.
The first flight took him about eight feet before he landed in a cowpat and bounced, leaving a groove in the earth in which you could see the imprint of his splendid mail coat.
The weight of his chainmail and the steepness of the land aided his momentum and sent him flying through the air once more. This time his landing was in the midst of a thistle patch and when once again he took to the air, his splendid mail coat was festooned with leaves from the plants.
The Saxons scattered as he bounced towards them,laughing screaming in terror as they went.
Erik finally came to rest about thirty feet from where he'd started, very, very luckily unharmed, although rather scratched and covered in cow sh*t; his rich red kirtle now a rich smelly brown.
Once we'd realized he was fine, and we'd stopped laughing, we resumed our battle with the cry of
"Surrender, or we launch Erik at you again!"
Every Viking army should have a launchable Erik with them.
Once upon a time, myself and my fellow Vikings ventured to Cadbury Castle to conquer the lands and pillage a few Saxons. The lands in South Cadbury are fine and crowned with the magnificent Hill Fort, which although affords wonderful views of the locale, is an bit of an bastard to climb, being some 500ft high.
But climb we did, and fight we did as well. All day the Castle rang to the sound of blade on blade, and spear on shield, and in brief we were having a bloody good scrap and lots of fun.
One of our mighty army, was a warrior by the name of Erik; a tall, handsome, dark haired man of wealth and status, earned by being a fearsome opponent and demonstrated by his attire in battle. His rich red kirtle was worn under a beautiful coat of the finest chainmail, which shone like stars in the sunlight and also weighed about a tonne. No Saxon blade could pierce such armour, but it did mean that he'd get a little bit out of breath if giving chase.
The battles continued to rage until we found ourselves at the summit of the fort. We gazed at the vista and the cows that were staring back at us, and took a rest amongst the thickets of thistles and cowpats that adorned the peak.
These thistles and cowpats were also an bit of an bastard, as from time-to-time if one wasn't careful, one would find themselves up to their ankles in sharp bits or sh*t, so it was prudent to look where you were going.
Our rest was over when we saw another army of Saxons approaching us. We stood ready to fight, and our leader and Erik asked boldly what they were doing on the lands. They were not in the mood to parley, and so we took our positions on the top of the hill. They charged at us, and Erik, being a brave and fearless warrior, charged himself straight at their shieldwall.
Unfortunately, the mighty Erik tripped on an errant thistle.
Erik, literally took flight.
The first flight took him about eight feet before he landed in a cowpat and bounced, leaving a groove in the earth in which you could see the imprint of his splendid mail coat.
The weight of his chainmail and the steepness of the land aided his momentum and sent him flying through the air once more. This time his landing was in the midst of a thistle patch and when once again he took to the air, his splendid mail coat was festooned with leaves from the plants.
The Saxons scattered as he bounced towards them,
Erik finally came to rest about thirty feet from where he'd started, very, very luckily unharmed, although rather scratched and covered in cow sh*t; his rich red kirtle now a rich smelly brown.
Once we'd realized he was fine, and we'd stopped laughing, we resumed our battle with the cry of
"Surrender, or we launch Erik at you again!"
Every Viking army should have a launchable Erik with them.
posted by Misty at 24.10.06
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