Horse. Reporting.
[chunka-zzt] Trap-Jaw's. Camp. [chicka-chicka]
[chunk-chunk-chicka] Distance. [zzt] From Sandbowl. [chikkity]
[bzt] 5 miles. [chicka-chunk]
[chunk-chunk-chicka] Distance. [zzt] From Sandbowl. [chikkity]
[bzt] 5 miles. [chicka-chunk]
Labels: lord blooddyke, sandbowl, trap-jaw, vampyric horse
posted by Stephen Reese at
5:14 AM
5 Comments:
[chicka-bzz] Message. Intercepted. [kzzt]
[chikkity] En route. [zzk]
[chunka] To Trap-Jaw's camp. [ker-thunk]
[ch-chikkity] As follows: [bzt]
With a fell battle-cry, ten thousand frenzied barbarians fell upon the fort and last stronghold of the "civilized" peoples in the north, the Hyboreans. They were a sea of chanting, screaming madmen; naked but for a rag of leather fastened around their waists; skin coloured a rude grey. A steadily churning morass of limbs and hair, they rolled forward: a thundering horde of savage youth, some only having seen fourteen winters, and the old who, while slow in their approach, displayed vulgar undulations which were still paced, skilled and adroit.
On the battlements, levies from Cella, Gruthia, Rhmen and even distant Kush awaited the onslaught, pikes ready to try and hold their line. Spired helms, decorated with horse hair, rare coloured glass, and ivory glinted in the morning air. Lesser men quailed looking upon the barbarian foes, marveling at the savage indifference the horde showed the frigid air and biting snow. The feral skein of wolfish forms appeared as grey and shadowed as the clouded sky. Hapless, yet with grim intent, they bowled themselves ever toward the graceless fort.
Sure, they would riddle the berserkers with volleys of black-feathered dart and five thousand Zingaran archers stood in grim resolution cognisant of the inevitable time when the vanguard would be within range. Stone and fire were at the ready, but bulwarks would be scaled, ascended more like bestial ape than men borne of the north, with song and spear and culture, albeit primordial. But the arrows would be too few for the prostrate war-machine. The archers would empty and the levy would break and trip over the teeming juggernaut.
In the background, from behind the dubious safety afforded by the stronghold, a child could be heard crying out in confusion, sensing and fearing these terrible moments before the Varkian River Outpost was to be smashed by the Horde.
By
Vampyric Horse, at 30 January, 2007
Name of Orthos.
If the logs are correct, this message originated from the Sandbowl.
Nega! Monkey!
Did either of you send this writ?
By
Lord Blooddyke, at 30 January, 2007
Yo, no.
No sirree.
No message a'mine.
By
Night Monkey, at 30 January, 2007
Didn't lay...a tentacle...
To keyboard...
Perhaps...Visigoth?
By
Mega-Nega, at 30 January, 2007
Lord Blooddyke and minions three,
I do swear it wasn't me.
By
Pugvold Visigoth, at 30 January, 2007
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