Tseram
02-17-2005, 01:26 AM
"I woke up early this morning to the sounds of geese flying overhead and a throbbing ache in the head. The orcs had trampled through here not more than six hours ago, laying waste to everything in their path. I fought valiantly, bravely, and am not sure why I wasn't swept away with the others in the wave of destruction. I had battled atop my trusty steed, Eleril, swinging my sword this way and that, stained with the blood of countless heads being lopped off their foul bodies. The tide had begun to turn, it was obvious, and I found myself surrounded by ever-increasing numbers of the enemy. Looking around, not one of my comrades remained. I turned Eleril around to resume the battle another day, and he galloped for all he was worth. Alas, however, the poor stallion was just an illusion of my own vanity, unable to gallop barely faster than my own two weary, armor-laden legs could carry me. I had spoken to the Council about getting a real horse before this war began, but the mages and warriors of the realm complained it was unfair that I should have such advantage in combat, so it was decreed that all knights must ride gloriously into battle atop a broomstick with a horse's head attached. I thought upon such things as I fled, right before I fell and the sun escaped me."-Tseramed