froggy's latest series

[frogbeastegg]

This is going to be a series of stories going behind the scenes to find out just how that vice or virtue was earned. No I'm not going to cover ones like perversion. I'll start with the funny 'anti assassin' ones and if it is popular continue from there.


Behind the Vices and Virtues series Part I

Mass Murderer.
John lurked deep in the shadows watching his target. Good, he was alone and unguarded, now was the time to strike. John slowly moved his hand to the dagger at his hip and started to draw it when loud whistling announced the arrival of a bodyguard. Blast whispered John as he resheathed his dagger, his chance ruined. He would have to wait for another opportunity.

The next day John continued to go about his business as normal, trying not to arouse suspicion. He was wary though as he could be unmasked at any moment. If he ran into his target in an empty corridor he would strike and no one would know what happened, yes it was best if no one knew who killed the man, much less fuss that way. On his way between the armoury and the great hall John saw his target talking to a guard. He seemed agitated and was gesturing wildly. Swiftly John melted into the shadow near the doorway and listened. I tell you I'm not imagining it Some one is following me, someone with a dagger Your supposed to be a body guard so do something he'd been seen then, very careless. John was angry at himself, now they would look for him after the murder. He must act, and soon.

The next evening John waited outside his targets bedroom, hidden behind a pillar. He would finish this tonight and no one would be any the wiser as to who did it. After what felt like an eternity the target approached on his own. Perfect thought John as he silently drew his dagger. When the target drew level with the pillar he leapt out and stabbed at his victim catching hi in the shoulder. Then hands grabbed John roughly and disarmed him. An assassin That man's an assassin, capture him Don't let him get away screamed the lord of the castle I want to know who sent him and why It's alright sir, I've got him replied the guard motioning to his colleagues who were running into the room asking what the commotion was. He's an assassin, take him away and torture him, I want to know everything yelled Sir John hysterically He's one of them See, he has the beard and bold head, they want me dead I won't let them kill me, I shall find them all Take the prisoner to the dungeon and question him ordered the head bodyguard Now why don't you go to your chamber and relax my lord? The assassin has been caught and you are safe now

Sir John allowed himself to be steered into his rooms and breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that the rumours would get worse, the people said he was a mass murderer but they didn't know The assassins were real, they wanted him dead. John knew that they were being sent by Lord Uxbridge, after all he had threatened revenge when John was given governorship of Mercia instead of Uxbridge. Ever since then bald headed men with brown beards had followed him, they were everywhere he went. People laughed behind his back and thought he was mad, but he knew the truth, the assassins belonged to a sect called the Bearded Blades. John had hoped to dispose of the assassin himself with no witnesses, he knew his bodyguards didn't believe him, they would just let the man go quietly while reporting that he had died during questioning. John decided that he would have to beef up security and get a new set of bodyguards, ones who could be trusted. Then he wouldn't have to worry about the Bearded Blades.

Next up: Survivor

[frogbeastegg]

Behind the Vices and Virtues series Part II

Survivor
Several weeks after the incident with the Bearded Blade Sir John had hired new bodyguards and banned all bearded baldies from his presence. He felt relaxed for the first time since becoming the Lord of Mercia. To celebrate he was holding a feast. Only the best dishes would be served, minstrels and troubadours were arriving and everyone seemed happy. Even Lady Matilda had stopped frowning.

The big night arrived and Sir John and his wife took their places at the high table. The minstrels began to sing and jugglers began their act. The knights Sir John had invited danced with their ladies until they were tired. A play was put on depicting the story of Jonah, this proved popular with the audience who restrained themselves from throwing bread rolls at the actors. When the play ended John signalled that the servants should begin serving the food. The musicians began to play again as the dishes were bought in and displayed to the guests. First came the chiefs special, a large spit roast suckling pig, still on it's spit. Pies, puddings curries and roasts were placed on the tables in pride of place. Then came the soups, pottages and fruit dishes. A large turbot completed the arrangements.

As protocol dictated a servant carried the chiefs special up to Sir John so he could be served first. John looked at the man and realised with a shock that he looked familiar. The beard was gone, but the man was still bald. It was the assassin he had caught several weeks ago As his eyes widened in realisation the man lunged at John with the spit. The milliseconds it had taken John to recognise his attacker saved his life as he was already reaching for the closest weapon to hand. John blocked the lunge with his wooden trencher but was knocked back by the force of the blow. As he fell John grabbed the knife he was used to cut his food. He cut at the mans feet, catching him on the heel but doing little damage as the boots were made of thick leather. The spit came down towards Sir Johns head but hit his shoulder instead as he rolled out of the way. Then it was over, Matilda had clobbered the assassin over the head with a pewter pitcher, knocking him unconscious.

John was helped to his feet. Are you alright sir? asked Edward, the leader of the bodyguards. Do I look alright? That man nearly killed me shouted John, wincing as his shoulder He would have succeeded if it wasn't for my wife What kind of incompetents are you Calm down dear, you'll make your injuries worse interrupted Matilda calmly You should retire to your rooms and let the physician look at you. Your shoulder may be broken and your arm is bleeding. John stared down at his left arm surprised to see that it was cut open and bleeding furiously. The spit must have caught it when he blocked with the trencher. Still in shock he allowed himself to be lead away for treatment.

That night John lay in bed with his arm bandaged heavily. Fortunately his shoulder was not broken badly, he would recover without permanent injury. John realised that he would have to change his security once again. The bearded blades had grown more cunning, changing their appearance so as to fool him. That was something John had never suspected, the beard and bald head were a matter of honour to the sect. They must really have it in for him to break their own rules to kill him. John thought about training to fight with a variety of household implements, after all his sword had not been there to help him. John considered asking his wife to teach him; after all she did swing a mean pitcher.

Next up: murderer (paranoid)

[JohnCee]

I'm already starting to feel sorry for my namesake http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/eek.gif

Also I don't trust Matilda there's something shifty about her.

MORE

- Lady Frog, the org's resident bard - http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/pat.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Behind the Vices and Virtues Part III

Murderer (Paranoid)

It took several months for Sir John to recuperate from his last tangle with the Bearded Blades. In that time he had demoted Edward to privy sweeper and got himself a third captain of bodyguards, Henry. He had traps installed at several strategic points and took several lessons in the art of self defence using kitchen tools from his wife. John got the feeling Matilda enjoyed bashing him with various 'harmless' pieces of tableware. There had been no signs of further attempts on his life by the Bearded Blades and John was once again feeling relaxed. The rumours about him being a mass murderer were slowly dieing out and tales of his fight with the assassin had made him a celebrity.

Sir John was out walking on his parapets when his squire, William, came running up to him. Sir someone's approaching. He looks important 'cuse he's got banners. And 'es got soldiers. Do you fink he's coming 'ere? John sighed shaking his head in despair at his squires stupidity Of course he's coming here, why else would he ride up to my castle? And I keep telling you to talk properly-because not 'cuse. Go and tell the sentries to see what he wants and let him in. William tried to salute but hit his head with his knuckles in the process and then ran off to pass on the message. Frankly the boy was a disaster, John reflected, he should never have agreed to train him as a knight. He was much better suited to being a fool or tumbler in a fair, or as John thought in his darker moments, an archers target.

William came running back covered in mud after tripping over his own feet several times. That man says he's the coroner. Lord Tall botty or sommat. Wants to talk to ya. Thank you William, why don't you go and ask one of the soldiers to practise sword fighting with you muttered John. There was always the hope a knock to the head might improve the boy's intellect.

John met his guest, the king's coroner Lord Talbot, in the great hall. Ah, Sir John just the man boomed the immensely fat coroner I want a word with you. It's about all these men you've had killed as assassins. Can't continue like this man, you're getting more attempts on your life than the king Getting ideas above your station if you ask me. I'm not asking to be killed replied John incredulous I want them to stop, I'm trying to track down their leader. I... Now don't worry about that old chap We both know that these Hairy Hammers don't exist, so all you have to do is stop faking these attempts. Simple really interrupted Talbot jovially. Bearded Blades not hairy Hammers and they do exist. One tried to kill me in the middle of a feast John replied angrily. Oh aye, splendid show that chap, dunno how you did it. I mean getting that man to wack you about a bit without doing much damage. Shouldn't have got the wife to finish it though, it ruined the effect and gave the game away. But.. protested John weakly Now listen up chap, the king is getting fed up of you hogging all the glory He's the king, That means he is the one who gets all the assassins, not a petty little lord like you Disgraceful taking the kings thunder like that, I expected better. So it ends now, got it? blustered Talbot Now that’s sorted what’s for dinner, I'm starving So are my men I'll bet. I'd like some roast chicken. John seized this opportunity to leave the room.

After speaking to the kitchen staff John went to find the other men from the coroner's party. He rounded up several men at arms near the stables and sent them to their lord. He was just turning around when a broad shouldered knight strolled up to him. Sir John I presume? I'm Sir Geoffrey. I am extremely pleased to meet you at last, may we talk somewhere more private? John lead the too perfect to be true knight to the solar and ordered his wife and her ladies out. What do you want then? Make it quick I'm in a hurry said John. This won't take long smirked the knight Greetings from the Big Beard, you have breathed your last as he spoke Geoffrey drew his sword and cut at John who back-pedalled rapidly. The tip of the sword caught John's cheek, gouging a chunk out of it. John managed to draw his own sword before the knight cut again. The men struggled as their blades tangled, each trying to push the other one over. Geoffrey was strong and John felt himself slowly being pushed backwards. Frantically he felt behind him on the table for something he could use to help. His hand closed on a loaf of bread, which he jabbed into Geoffrey’s stomach. Geoffrey gasped and staggered back winded but couldn't recover fast enough. John's sword cut his head off. Just then the door burst open and William fell in. Blimy he gasped 'es dead You 'urt sir? cus your face is bleedin' Yes I am aware of that, thank you William. Will you go and get the coroner and Henry?

By the time William had rounded up the others John had found a piece of cloth to hold against his wound. A pool of Geoffrey’s blood was slowly expanding to cover the entire solar floor, with the bread roll floating in it. Geoffrey himself still looked shocked. As Matilda came in she shrieked My carpets They came all the way from the east, my brother bought them back from the crusades They cost 60 florins then more calmly she added What have you done to your face dear, and why is a headless man lying in the middle of my solar? Yes Sir John, why have you killed Sir Geoffrey? he was one of my best men burbled Talbot. Wearily John replied He tried to kill me. He was working for the Bearded Blades. He attacked my with his sword, cut my face open and would have killed me if I hadn't winded him with a bread roll Beaming Matilda said encouragingly That's the spirit Bread roll, good thing I was having dinner before you burst in and threw me out Sir Geoffrey didn't look like he agreed.

A couple of days later and the mess was cleared up. John's face was stitched up and new carpets were ordered. The coroner had just about accepted Sir John's story but with the stern warning This must be the last, the king is most displeased. Once again a new captain of the bodyguards was appointed as Henry was busy with his new duties as chief spit turner. William tottered up to his master holding out a grubby letter. Fer you sir, fro London that. Cool innit? Gotta pritty seal too John grabbed the letter at once, it was from the king. Geoffrey’s son Geoffrey Jnr had submitted to trial by ordeal to prove his father's innocence. He had succeeded and now John was believed to be paranoid. The king said that no further action would be taken but on no account are you to have any more assassins attack you You are not important enough to have more assassins than me Sir John sighed wearily and started planning how to dispose of the Bearded Blades in a quieter manner.

Up Next: Paranoid

(Looks at JohnCees's name. Smacks self in head while shouting D'oh I thought I'd avoided all the names used by people on the org. Sorry I didn't forget you Honest, it's just I temporarily ceased to remember your name http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif Matilda was originally going to be Mary but then I remembered the name was already taken. )

(I guess you may not like then ending if you feel sorry for John now But then I feel sorry for poor John - and I know what happens in the next two parts. Authors must do some terrible things http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif)

(Resident bard Do I get a special icon with that? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif )

[frogbeastegg]

Behind the Vices and Virtues Part IV

Paranoid

Nearly five months had passed since John had last seen a Bearded Blade, he was beginning to hope they had given up. Life had settled down, the king was no longer angry at being out done by Sir John, the new captain if the bodyguards was competent and Matilda had finally stopped mentioning his use of her favourite handkerchief as a bandage when his face was cut open. William was still stupid, but no ones life is perfect. The castle was ready for the visit by the Archbishop of Canterbury and his entourage due to take place today. The archbishop was touring the country to promote donations to the church in exchange for a place in the afterlife. He had decided to stay at John's castle for one night before moving on. John was not best pleased as the archbishop was a man of expensive tastes and he would expect the best.

Sir, 's a short man on a 'orse 'ere. Got bishops wi' 'im. John turned round and looked at his squire. William stared back slack jawed. Thank you William. I keep telling you to talk properly, the Archbishop will not like being spoken to like that Yeh was all William could manage in response. John sighed tiredly and left to meet the Archbishop of Canterbury.

The Archbishop was a very short man with rather poor eyesight. As a result he was always squinting. Your grace said Sir John as he bowed before the Archbishop everything is ready for you and your most holy brethren, if you would like to follow me? Yes, I think we shall. Lead on Sir John. replied the archbishop in a squeaky voice. John led the party to the Solar where a private meal had been prepared for the guests. Matilda was waiting along with the servants who would wait at table. When all were seated the first course was bought in. There was pea pottage for everyone except Matilda who didn't like pottage and had carrot and onion soup. Let us say grace shrilled the Archbishop bowing his head Lord thank you for blessing us with your bounty. We are truly thankful for thy benevolence. May you continue to bless our fair kingdom of England and protect it's king. The monologue droned on for some time. John stared as his bowl waiting for the Archbishop to finish. As he stared he noticed that there was something strange in his pottage May we truly get what we deserve in life, as we do in death. Amen The Archbishop had finished and everyone sat down and began eating. Everyone, that is, but John who dug out the strange object with his spoon. On closer examination he saw it was a tiny tin badge with a pair of daggers crossed in front of a beard. A chill crept up Johns back and he started to speak, I think everyone had better sto... the Archbishop was clutching his stomach and groaning, so were his entourage. Oh no Why did they have to try again now Not the Archbishop, of all the damnable coincidences why did it have to be the archbishop? yelled John in despair as his guests collapsed dead one by one. Matilda just sat there finishing her soup I never did like pottage she commented.

John began to laugh out of sheer despair, burying his head in his hands. The Archbishop of Canterbury They only went and poisoned the Archbishop of Canterbury and his entourage They didn't get me though. I don't believe this Matilda calmly added, The servants are beginning to stare dear. We should remove the bodies to the chapel and send the guards after the cook. John just nodded.

Under torture the cook revealed nothing, nether did the other servants. People were beginning to talk, saying that John had murdered the Archbishop in pursuit of power. Matilda soon found a way to solve that by conscripting the complaining peasants into a hard labour group tasked with fixing the walls. If they are too tired to talk they will shut up she explained. John agreed with her. Matilda also came up with the official explanation. God had been so pleased with his servants that he had called them to heaven to aid him. John thought it was a stupid excuse but surprisingly it worked. She explained, Peasants will believe anything. They have such dull lives that a bit of mystery from beyond is believed even when it is nonsense, especially when it is religious.

Once again the Captain of the bodyguards was found a new job, cleaning the moat, a replacement was appointed and several new traps added to the castle. John resolved that he would finish the Blades, and soon.

Next up: Paranoid security

EDIT: Drat I hit the post reply button instead of the preview post button. Sorry about the half finished original. I need a rest.

[frogbeastegg]

Behind the Vices and Virtues Part V
Paranoid security

It was Christmas and John was celebrating. His new traps were installed and worked perfectly, no less than 3 assassins had fallen in them. His new captain of the bodyguards was highly efficient, even if choosing his own wife for the job was unconventional. His own spies were closing in on the leader of the Bearded Blades and John felt sure that the matter would be settled soon. They had even managed to persuade the famous minstrel Lionel de Faume to perform at the Christmas feast. The minstrel had arrived at the castle several days earlier. Matilda had suggested that he give a private recital for the two of them in the newly modified solar. Lionel had accepted the offer with much over the top bowing and hat flourishing.

That evening Sir John and Lady Matilda ate in the solar and Lionel was ushered in to play. The musician was very tall, thin as a beanpole with a shaven head. However his singing voice made up for his shabby appearance and Matilda was thinking of hiring him permanently. After they had finished eating John dismissed the servants but Matilda asked Lionel to stay and sing for a while longer. My Lady, the sun doth shine brighter for thine request dost touch mine heart. T’would be a pleasure for my lowly self to strum awhile longer replied the minstrel in the annoyingly flowery language he constantly spewed. How can the sun shine brighter, it's the middle of the evening nitpicked Matilda, rather deflating Lionel’s fluffy air. John dear have you told the guards to leave us alone? Yes, I did as you asked, they will not disturb us tonight no matter what answered John. His wife's request had mystified him, but she was in charge of security and she had a mean left hook.

Lionel began to strum and sing
At last my Lord, we meet at last,
In this castle bold,
The Bearded Blades you do fear,
With just cause I hear,
For now I shall kill you

With this Lionel put down his lute and drew a punch dagger and grabbed Sir John by the throat. Move and I kill you before I gloat, I'm sure you want to hear why we are after you don't you? he rasped in a deep voice so different to the courtly purr he had previously used. Matilda spoke in a sinister voice That was a terrible song Lionel, you could have done better. I am very disappointed that your standards have slipped so much. Oh, by the way John, don't move or he will kill you now. Matilda, what... gasped John Oh just shut up will you, it's time for Lionel to explain why he is here, I'm sure that will interest you interrupted Matilda icily. Yes, thank you Milady rasped the assassin Know this pathetic fool, I am Mortimer, the Big Beard, head of the Bearded Blades. You have killed many of my men, made us look like fools, you have forced us to break out most sacred rule in order to disguise ourselves so we may attempt to assassinate you You made us shave For that alone you must die. We were hired by someone in this very castle, someone close to you. I shall let you guess who in your final moments. Can we get a move on here, it's getting late you know interjected Matilda. Yes, Milady, you are right. Being an honourable assassin I shall allow you a chance to fight me face to face, sword on sword to the death We.. Just get on with it already added Matilda nastily. John could hardly believe this, his own wife telling an assassin to hurry up and kill him, strange behaviour even by her usual standards.

Released from Mortimer’s grasp John drew his sword and took a swing at the assassin, which was easily blocked. Matilda watched quietly for several minutes as the two men fought up and down the solar, neither gaining the advantage. Finally with an irritated Men she moved to finish the fight. When the target was stood over the concealed trap door Matilda pulled the candlestick next to the fireplace and the unlucky man dropped down into a spiked pit. There was a small squelching noise and a strangled cry, and then silence. John stared at his wife and gasped But why....?, I thought..., what..? It's all very simple dear Matilda replied calmly, I knew he was the Big Beard. That's why I asked him here. I should have known that you would forget to use the traps to dispose of him, I have to do everything myself You could have told me choked John rudding his sore throat. We've no time for that now, we still haven't caught the one behind all these attacks, but that won't be hard. Summon William will you? Why, there's nothing he can do to help. answered a put out John. Matilda sighed and explained, He's the one behind all this He is the illegitimate son of Lord Uxbridge. His father promised him a place in his household if he could kill you. He wants your title. I found out while sifting through the spy reports. William But I thought he was just a rather dim peasant stuttered John who was beginning to feel rather left out. That rather dim peasant is hidding in the gaderobe You can come out now William, the show's over, you've failed. Again said Matilda.

William sheepishly stepped out from behind the curtain. I knew I was a good actor, it wasn't too hard to fool you. Jus' need ta act dim, like said William bitterly, glaring at John. I was only surprised you survived all the attacks. The bad reputation alone should have got you thrown out of office, a paranoid murderer who hates bearded men The king is a fool for letting you stay. You weren't all that bright standing in the garderobe eavesdropping on us just now said Matilda pleasantly. No, and I think you'll be staying here for a while longer added John, suddenly smiling, I shall send a message to your father. If anyone assassinates me someone will kill you. As long as you are at this castle I am safe. Good idea, dear Matilda said approvingly You may be stupid at times but you do have your moments.

And so the Bearded Blades were finished, the assassinations halted and life returned to normal. Well except for William, he was now acting like a human instead of a trained chimp. Oh, and Matilda kept the job as head of security. Sir John could finally relax and enjoy life. And no one believed the stories that Lionel de Faume had fallen to his death in a spike pit.

The End

(I was originally going to have John killed by a bunch of angry peasants who were fed up with all the strange goings on at the castle, but the poor guy had suffered enough Appologies for the horrible song, I'm not a poet.)

VOTE NOW
Should I continue this series with other vices and virtues or should I give it up? I can think of possible stories for most of the 'funny' ones like the alcoholic series, the indecisives etc. This thread had had over 50 views and only two comments so far so it looks unpopular. So vote now, do I continue or not?

[Kongamato]

I enjoyed the stories...

Maybe you could try the glutton, Kleptocracy, or pride series.

[frogbeastegg]

Behind the Vices and Virtues series part VI

Hideous scars

Sir George mounted his horse and joined the conroi of knights preparing to charge the enemy. As the signal was given George spurred his horse onwards, keeping pace with his comrades. At the second signal the knights spurred their mounts to a faster speed. Within a few paces of the enemy the knights accelerated to full speed and crashed into the unnerved soldiers. In the brutal hand to hand fighting that ensued Sir George found himself separate from his comrades and was pulled from his mount. Fighting desperately against six other men George felt a blow to his helmet. Sparks filled his vision until a second blow knocked him unconscious.

Sir George was found after the battle by his squires and taken back to his tent for treatment. The full extent of George's wounds quickly became apparent. His scull had a hairline fracture, his left shoulder had a deep cut to it and a dagger had pierced through the armour on his left knee. George's face bones had been shattered. The surgeon did what he could be nothing would awake Sir George from his deep sleep.

After the second blow to the head George found himself in strange surroundings. Everything was made of grey metal, walls, floor ceiling, there were no windows anywhere and no door. George could hear a strange sound, it was like breathing only different, very regular, almost artificial. Deciding that the breathing indicated the presence of another human George asked Who's there, where am I? or he tried to, for some reason his mouth wouldn't work. Panicking George tried to move but found he couldn't, it was as if he were in another’s body. All he could only move his eyes. Looking down at his own body to see what was wrong George was horrified to see that it was not his body He was several inches too tall, wearing black armour made of what looked like leather, with strange armour like panels on it. A cylindrical device hung at his belt next to some boxes that flashed with unnatural lights. George stated screaming in horror at what he had become, but no sound came out from his mouth.

A whooshing sound came from behind him and the body turned of it's own accord. A man in a strangely cut grey uniform spoke My Lord, the Rebels are in sight. We await your order. George found the body speaking in a deep voice Very well commander, we shall attack in force. Prepare your ground assault teams. I will lead the attack personally. Ground assault teams? What was going on here? The body walked out of the room, followed by the breathing, along long corridors till it reached a large room that could have contained George's castle and it's surrounding lands with no difficulty. The room was full of house sized metal boxes that men in shining white armour were entering. The men were obviously soldiers but their armour was like non George had seen and they carried no weapons, only black sticks. One of the armoured men approached and saluted Lord Vader we are ready to depart. The voice, Vader?, answered We will land just outside the base on the north side. Send a detachment around to the east to cut off their escape. Take no prisoners. The man saluted and left. 'Vader' entered the box and the door shut.

George had no idea what happened next, but if he had to describe what the box did he would say it flew This did not seem to bother anyone except George who was still watching helplessly through 'Vader’s' eyes. Suddenly the feeling of flying stopped and the door opened onto the battle. Once again George was horrified at what he saw. Men in white armour were running around pointing their sticks at other men with no armour. Large arrows of red light came out of the sticks hitting men, causing large black burns and tearing holes through flesh. George was aware of his had grasping the cylinder at his waist and brandishing it as if it were a sword. Suddenly a blade of red light shot out of it, but unlike the ones from the sticks this one stayed attached to the cylinder forming a sword. George then charged into battle.

Swinging the light sword faster than was possible George cut a swath through the battle sending the arrows of light bouncing back at the enemy with his own blade. The wondrous sword killed so effortlessly and felt lighter than any sword George had known. Then George felt his left hand raise and make a clenching gesture, he saw that immediately several men collapsed with broken necks. How was this possible? He wasn't even close enough to touch them The enemy could not stand against such power and the battle was quickly over, much to George's disappointment. Using that sword, killing with a wave - it was the most wondrous thing he had ever dreamed of. Only an angel from God would have powers such as these

Entering the boxes again the mysterious sensation of flying returned and when the door opened again George was back on the ship. He walked to another room in the metal palace, this one containing a huge metal egg in the centre. At his approach the egg split in two and George entered and sat down. The interior had a shiny panel and George could see what he had suspected before. His entire head was encased in a black metal helmet shaped to look like a face. George felt this helmet had something to do with the sound of breathing that followed him everywhere. The body reached up and undid the helmet, in doing so George caught a glimpse of the face that lay beneath it. He had seen some terrible wounds in his time but this went beyond anything he had seen. A vast open cut crossed the hairless scalp, the skin was whiter than the shroud of Christ. Everywhere there was scarring. The face was a ruin. This shocked George so badly he started to scream in terror. Then he woke up.

Upon returning to this reality George found that his body worked properly and was not in cased in black armour. The sound of breathing was gone, everything was back to normal. George felt strangely saddened, he felt sure he had been in the body of an angel. My Lord You're awake how are you, do you feel well? came the worried voice of his eldest squire. What happened? Why am I bandaged, was I wounded? His voice was normal, not a deep rumble. Sir you were wounded badly in battle. You have been unconscious for nearly a week. Your wounds are healing well, you will life and fight again. However... the squire trailed off avoiding George's eyes. What Spit it out boy demanded George angry for a reason he did not know. Your face...It's..Well..Your face has been badly damaged, you will not recover your looks. Get me a mirror bellowed George, aware of pain coming from his jaw, but not caring. The squire scrambled to find one and handed it to his master. George looked at his face for several minutes saying nothing. He had never been handsome, but now he was hideous, barely human even. He looked like the face from his dream. Perhaps this was a sign from God, he must follow the dream and become an even mightier warrior fighting solely for God, not a petty king. Get me a blacksmith. I want a suit of armour to match my old one, but this one must be coal black. He will make me a mask, no one will see my face, NO ONE Now get out With that George hurls the mirror at his squire who scuttled from the tent.

Several months later George had his armour and mask. His had healed well considering how badly he was hurt, but he could not fight as effectively as in that dream. Nor could he summon the powers he possessed in the dream. However his scars and terrible countenance frightened all who entered his presence, that part of the dream came true.



(This is why you shouldn't read the vices and virtues section of your MTW guide while watching Star Wars If you like it, good If you don't I apologise for wasting your eyesight, it won't happen again I couldn't pass up the chance, the horrible injuries and their effects are just like dear old Darth Vader http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif )

http://216.40.249.192/s/contrib/owen/vader1.gifhttp://www.gamers-forums.com/smilies/contrib/owen/trooper.gifhttp://66.227.101.70/ups/unknown/maulsabera.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Behind the Vices and Virtues Part VII

Compulsively Charitable

Stephan rode home from church with a feeling of peace in his heart. He had given 100 florins to the poor today, few would go hungry for a while. As usual the congregation had given him strange looks, he was too charitable they said, he gave too much. Stephan knew this was not true, even if he gave everything he owned he would still not atone for his evil. A beggar ran up to him at the road side begging pitifully for alms, so Stephan gave him a couple of silver pennies before his guards pushed the beggar away.

Back at his castle Stephan started to review his accounts. He had an income of 400 florins per month. 74 florins were needed to pay for food and other vital supplies. 69 florins paid the wages of his soldiers. 120 florins were due to the king as tax. The remaining money was given to charity each and every month. Stephan couldn't help but feel that this wasn't enough, he had so much to atone for. Shutting his eyes Stephan tried to think of how he could raise more for the needy but his thoughts were interrupted by screams and visions of fire. Jerking awake Stephan realised he had fallen asleep. The remains of the nightmare clung to him as he hurried out of the chamber to walk on the top of his keep. Resting his arms of the parapet Stephan stared down at his domain. He did not deserve this, not after what he'd done. For the second time that day Stephan found his thoughts drifting back to that day of fire, this time he did not fight. He could not hide from the horror.

It was the middle of summer. Stephan had been eleven years old, the son of the local lord and training as a knight. He had wandered down to the forester’s hut near the edge of the woods, bored and angry that this peasant took up more of his father's time than he did. It was unfair that a noble knight should spend more time talking with a forester than training his own son. He was determined to do something to get back at the peasant. There was no one there when he reached the hut, just a small wooden shack with a thatch roof. So far, so good Stephan had thought. He had reached into his waist pouch and pulled out his flint and steel. Working quickly and quietly Stephan started a small flame on the edge of the thatched roof. The fire quickly began to spread and Stephan had stood back to watch. When the roof was really blazing Stephan began to hear screams, there was someone in the hut He hadn't known, he didn't want anyone to be hurt. He had run to open the door only to find that it was on fire too. The person inside was trapped. Over the roaring flames Stephan had heard a child crying and a woman trying to calm it. Frantic with guilt and fear Stephan had fled the scene, unable to listen as they burned to death. Later that day his father had informed him that the forester’s wife and their three year old son had been killed in a house fire. The forester committed suicide rather than live with the grief. Stephan knew that his spoilt anger had murdered three harmless people. He knew he could never confess, he could never atone.

Standing on top of his keep Stephan shed bitter tears. He had spent the last twenty-seven years trying to relieve the guilt, to make up for his mistake. He had not managed. He had the reputation of the most charitable man in Christendom, he gave up everything he could but it was never enough. In his youth Stephan had thought of joining a monastery, fleeing the world and devoting himself to God. He had realised that this would not help the needy, to do that he needed to take up his inheritance. Stephan knew that many wouldn't care about what he'd done. Worse, they would think him crazy for worrying. After all peasants were his property, it was his right to kill them. They would argue that it was the same as killing in battle, a few Hail Mary's would sort that out. Stephan knew that this was not the case. The woman and her child were not threatening his life, it was not a battle. Nor were people just property. Serfs may be tied to his land but that did not mean he could kill them, surely it meant that he should care for them like a Sheppard caring for his flock. Stephan resolved to spread this opinion as much as he could. His son would care for those tied to the fief, maybe he could persuade others to behave in a similar manner. Then maybe he would find peace.



(Thanks A.Saturnus, this topic sinks so fast I'm thinking of installing a spring at the bottom of page 1 to send it back up http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif )

[Satyr]

Bravo I very much enjoyed the Darth Vador one. And I would have been proud to be associated with as strong and competent a woman as Matilda if you had named her Mary. Continue on.

[terryblack825]

Cool stories I really liked the last one

[frogbeastegg]

Behind the Vices and Virtues Part VIII

Pride

Sir George had been hiding behind his black iron mask for nearly three years. He had worked hard to match the man in his dream. He had learned to fight with a two handed sword capable of splitting a man in two, he struck fear into all that entered his presence; he was ruthless in his pursuit of power and prestige. He was proud of his abilities and achievements, after all most men would have given up after suffering so badly. At first some had suggested that he should retire, that he was unfit to serve his king. Those wagging tongues were silenced quickly - he had them torn out. There had been the occasional whispers about why he wore the mask; surely it was vanity to hide your face even if it was ruined. George had demonstrated that being branded with a large 'G' for gossip discouraged such foolishness. His estate was the most profitable in all England. The peasants worked endlessly, no one slacked off even for a minute. Living in a constant state of fear shortened the peasants lives, as did the frequent executions, but George had no use for old, clapped out peasants who could not longer work hard. The army George owed his king was also one of the best in England. The men were drilled constantly, twenty mile marches twice every week, five hours of weapon drill per day, two hours of physical labour in the fields to teach them how to dig a camp quickly. Any spare time was used patrolling the fief searching for criminals or lazy peasants. They were a force to be wary of. Life was good.

Sir George was going through his accounts with his clerk. This year we can expect an extra 400 florins on top of the estimate given at the start of the year. stated George confidently. My..My Lord, the harvest has been slightly less than expected. The peasants were not able to bring in all of the crops before rain storms destroyed some. The clerk stammered his excuses, They did work hard, they did everything they could....My Lord the final sum is 128 florins below your original estimate. George turned and stared at the clerk who was now trembling so much he looked likely to fall over. He was pathetic You dare to contradict me? If the peasants did not harvest enough then they will starve I will have my money. The clerk was so scared he could barely speak coherently Th..there is no more money..we can't raise more...I..I the clerk stammered to a stop as George drew his massive sword. You have failed me for the last time. I will raise the money myself. The clerk started to run but the sword cut him in two anyway. Have this mess cleaned up. Throw that rubbish on the midden, and find me another clerk - a competent one this time

Word spread quickly; Sir George had killed another servant for not agreeing with him. The ninth one in four months The other Lords disagreed with this policy, but were too afraid to do anything, after all Sir George may aim his army at their castle next. They all remembered how he had attacked Sir Robert when he had protested at the killing of a waiter during a feast. Sir Robert had been besieged for a month before being killed in single combat against George. The king himself was too afraid to say anything; he needed George's support to stay on the throne. Whether he realised it or not Sir George was effectively in charge of the country.

Behind the black mask George knew, and the knowledge made him smile.


Next up: A Rome: Total War special Night Terrors.


(Thanks for the kind comments http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif Also thanks for rescuing this topic from the second page, it makes it much easier to find when I add my next story. It would be easier if this topic was stickied, but it's not important enough for that. Matilda was originally supposed to be a bit part, only showing up at the feast and doing nothing. Before I knew what was happening she coshed the assassin and threatened to break my arm if I didn't give her a larger part George was supposed to be a one off but he was so well suited to pride I gave him one more go. )

[Mount Suribachi]

Very enjoyable Lady Frog, as ever.

If I may add a constructive criticism, I find your humourous short stories *much* better than your serious ones. I dunno, your funny ones just seem more like your natural style.

Perhaps you could have Sir George try some Umarian mushrooms?

[frogbeastegg]

Thanks Mount Suribachi, constructive criticism is always welcome. I didn't think that the funny ones were very popular as they always get less feedback. Also most people don't get my sense of humour, its too subtle and too British. Only two people I know get it, so I thought no one here got the joke either (The usual reaction when I tell a joke is http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/shock.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/confused.gif). Don't worry night terrors is going to be funny, it features a Roman general who is afraid of the dark and has a protective amulet shaped like a cute bear called Quietus (Latin for calm, sleeping undisturbed). It's a Roman teddy bear in all but huggableness It'll be done for tomorrow.

Sir George was meant to be a one off, I don't particularly like him. Feeding him mushrooms might be entertaining; I'll try to find a funny vice with which to kill him...

Is it just me or is the org s-l-o-w tonight?

[Mount Suribachi]

Well, I've got the strategy guide which lists all the V&Vs (there's bloomin' 'undreds of 'em&#33http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif. Some nice ones that caught my eye were Awful Risky Attacks and Degenerate Gambler http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

And the British sense of humour is the best The problem with funny stories is that, cos you're not telling them to someone, you don't get an immediate reaction, so you don't know if the joke has worked or not...you have to wait till someone posts a http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif before you can breathe a sigh of relief. And I tend to read long stories like yours at work by cutting and pasting them into word http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/shock.gif It just wouldn't do to be on the web at work for that long, so then I tend not to be in the thread to post a comment.

Anyway, *I* like your sense of humour, its a little bit Douglas Adams. Do you know about the Umarian mushrooms? Its in one of the Almohad Kaliphate threads if not. Would make a nice cross-over story http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Behind the Vices and Virtues Rome: Total War Special

Night Terrors

Rufus awoke knowing something was wrong. He looked around, that was it - Minimus was missing Rufus struggled out of bed and started to look around his room. Minimus should know better than to wander off in the middle of the night he thought crossly. After several minutes of searching Rufus gave up and sat down in the middle of the floor. He considered crying, that would bring help and he'd get Minimus back. Then he remembered what his father had told him You're a big boy now Rufus and a member of the Camilii. You must behave like a Roman man. So Rufus clenched his fists and tried not to wail. He wanted Minimus back Rufus thought hard for a minute before deciding to check the rest of the house, he wasn't supposed to leave his room at night but this was an emergency. Stopping only to pick up his sword (there might be monsters out there ) Rufus toddled out to search for his friend.

He knew Minimus wouldn't go to the slaves’ quarters because he was scared of Dominus the head slave, and he wouldn't be in the kitchens because they'd eaten before going to bed. Rufus decided to start in the atrium. Everywhere was dark. Shadows lurked in corners making everything seem strange and unfamiliar. The wall paintings looked alive with armoured men and strange monsters. Rufus clutched his sword even tighter, he'd show anyone who attacked him that he was a soldier just like his father The atrium was empty, no sign of Minimus there, not even in the rain pool. Rufus moved to the garden. Minumus wasn't on the benches or next to the statues. Nor was he in the flowerbeds. Rufus was about to give up and move on when he saw something in the fountain. He moved to investigate brandishing his sword. When he saw what had happened he dropped the sword with a clatter. Minimus was floating face down in the pool badly wounded.

Rufus screamed in horror, loud as only a five year old can be. He kept screaming until the slaves came running to see what was wrong. Sobbing he pointed at Minimus's body and the slaves scrambled to fish it out. What is going on here, what's all this noise? demanded a stern voice. Rufus why are you out of bed? Rufus turned to see his father looking very angry. He tried to stop crying and act like a Roman warrior, Minimus went missing and I went to save him. I took my sword, just like a good soldier should. He was in the fountain, he was... Rufus could continue no longer and began to sob. A slave stepped in holding Minimus Master, your son was searching for his stuffed donkey. From the tooth marks it looks like a dog ran off with it and chewed it. G. Camillus Secundus stared at the donkey with distaste, The thing is ruined now, get rid of it. Rufus screamed even loader as the slave took his beloved donkey away. Be silent You are Julius Camillus Rufus, my first and only son, heir to a long and proud name. Behave with dignity snapped Secundus. He waved at a slave Take my son back to bed, we will hear no more of this. The slave picked up the howling Rufus along with his wooden sword and carried him back to bed where his nurse sat with him until morning.

The next day Rufus was given an amulet in the shape of a cute bear by his nurse. He called the bear Quietus and never took the amulet off. Unfortunately Rufus was now terrified of the dark and often had bad dreams, Quietus was not as good at protecting him as Minimus had been.

20 years later.
J. Camillus Rufus became a rapidly rising star in Rome. His general ship was legendary, his oratory famous, his skill at arms unmatched. However he still wore a small amulet in the shape of a bear and he still feared the dark. He missed his stuffed donkey.

Next up: A break from the series with Mongolian Madness ™


[For those who haven't already seen it night terrors is one of the new V&V revealed for Rome: Total War. Here is the description as given by MikeB on the official forums:
Night Terrors
Darkness is not a friend. Darkness is where bad things happen.
-2 Night Battles, +1 Personal Security.
So there you go http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif ]

{On the Latin used in the story:
Minimus=small, least, slightest
Quietus=resting, sleeping, undisturbed / neutral / quiet, calm
The rest are just Roman names}

(I'm sorry this one took so long. I've been ill with summer 'flu, it's not easy to be funny when you can't breathe Normal service will be resumed after the tone. :BEEP: In the few days I didn't post this topic slid so far down I had to use my bookmark to find it )

Vote Now Do you want to see George killed by:
A) A chivalrous young warrior during the 'chivalrous' series of virtues, which I will start sooner instead of later if A is most popular.
B) A rock to the head with the fake vice 'unlucky'
C) Die in battle due to a combination of a peasants revolt, a bad last stand and some Umarian mushrooms. Warning: May Contain Kikkoman
D) All of the above in some kind of parallel universe of George killing
The one that wins gets written; the others go in the bin In the event of a tie or no one voting I'll just pick one out of a hat.

[Mount Suribachi]

I vote D

Sir George is trapped in a Groundhog Day style world where every day ends up with him meeting an unfortunate death

[Dîn-Heru]

I vote A or D (in that order)

[Divine Wind]

Excellent stories You have a real talent http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif

I go for option D too. Should make an intresting read

[frogbeastegg]

This one is a break from the Vices and Virtues series. I've put it here because it doesn't really fit with the theme of the warriors hold. It's for those head collecting, Gah-ing Mongols out there (you know who you are) as well as anyone who has been steamrollered by the New Improved Golden Horde 2.0 (Now featuring extra Mongols, more severed heads and more Gahs per minute than any other Mongol game). Pull up a chair, grab a skull of head soup and Gah along with the story.

The Mongolian Olympics

Subojin stared at his head rack feeling depressed. It was full, overflowing even, with the severed heads of his enemies. To a Mongol this should be a good thing, however Subojin was not a happy Mongol. The problem was that, contrary to popular belief, it was possible to have too many severed heads. There simply wasn't enough space for them all in his yurt. He'd stuffed heads on his rack, in his bed, in buckets and chests; he'd even put some on the roof of his yurt. His horse had multiple severed heads in it's stable. Subojin Gahed unhappily, there must be something he could do, the rest of his army had a similar storage space. If a solution wasn't found soon the mighty Golden Horde may have to stop killing people After all a Mongol fights to collect severed heads, if there were already too many heads there was no reason to fight. Maybe he could use the heads for something else. This thought encouraged Subojin and he started to remember a strange custom he had been told of by a captured Greek, something called an Olympics where men could compete in a variety of events to win prizes. No Mongol worth Gahing at would want a crown made of herbs or would throw a rock, but maybe the idea could be adapted. Subojin rose and exited his yurt, tripping over a captured chamber pot containing a couple of heads, and yelled for his second in command, Gah Kaishan, where are you. Soon a bowlegged Mongol ran over and asked Gah Oh great general You called? Yes. We will have a Mongol Olympics. This will solve our head problem, as they will be used in the games. Talk to the Greek slave but add severed heads to all events. Also arrange for the necessary food. Gah Your wisdom reveals why you are the greatest general of our Horde Oh mighty Subojin I shall give the orders at once Gah With that Kaishan ran off, calling to the other Mongols.

The next day was clear and sunny. The Mongols had worked tirelessly preparing for the Olympics. Subojin was not entering any events himself; he was the judge and would spend the day touring the events. He started at the severed head shot put where ten burly Mongols were throwing their largest heads. The crowd Gahed at each throw, particularly impressive throws drew Gnishes from the audience. Each contestant threw three times before the best throw overall decided the victor. Subojin presented the winner with a ribbon to tie on his favourite head and gave special head bags to the runners up.

The next event was the severed head and spoon race. Contestants had to balance a head on a spoon captured from the weak Catholics. If the head fell off the Mongol had to return to the start and try again. The first man across the finishing line would win. Much to the delight of the crowd some Mongols had been sneaky-they had nailed their heads to the spoon. They were immediately given a head start, as all Mongols should be devious. The race began well but went pear shaped near the finish line, the leading Mongols had started to fight, trying to make sure they won. Subojin stepped in and confiscated the heads and spoons. The fighters were ordered to join the combat events instead. Once again the winner of the race was given a head ribbon and the runners up head bags.

Head bowling was a popular game amongst the army. Nine heads were set up in a triangular formation and Mongols took turns in rolling their severed heads at them. The one who knocked the most heads down won. The game continued for nearly an hour, the contestants were highly skilled and the heads had flat necks making them harder to knock over. In the end Ghazuk won by a mere ear, close but still a win. After handing out the prizes Subojin moved on to the head bowls. Head bowls was similar to head bowling but the aim was to put your severed head as close to the target head as possible without hitting it. Ghazuk had entered this competition as well and was not happy when he lost, Gah I am the greatest head roller in the army Gnish Gnash I demand a rematch Gah. His request was politely refused when Subojin knocked him unconscious with a club.

Following this unpleasantness Subojin decided to break for lunch. He went to the refreshment yurt and got a skull of head soup. The slave cooks had worked hard, it was the tastiest head soup he had had in a while. so he ordered another one. Not yet ready to go back to the main events Subojin went to look at the children’s activities. There was severed head bobbing, a severed head shy and severed head shooting with a miniature bow and arrow. When he was sure no warriors were looking Subojin tried the severed head shy. He knocked off two heads and won a small severed head dolly. Subojin was about to have a go at the severed head bobbing when he was called to the head polo games.

The aim of severed head polo was to hit the head through the opponent’s goal. The players were mounted and used long wooden clubs to hit the head (or each other). To begin the game Subojin threw a head (which had a worried expression) into the middle of the pitch and then ran back out of the way. A Mongol warrior will only run from three things 1. His angry wife 2. Enemies that outnumber him by 10-1 3. The middle of a game of head polo. This is sensible as staying around any of these three things just means you get pasted. The game was typical of head polo in that half the players ended up unconscious and the other half was comatose. A tie was declared and the players could all collect a prize head bag when (if) they came around.

The rest of the day passed in a flash for Subojin. He saw the head volley ball finals, the head basketball, head football, head pinyata, head rugby and head tennis. The final event was the most prestigious, the most challenging of them all. It required skill, speed, stamina and bravery that only a few could possess. The winner of this even would be named the Great Gah and given the severed head of Emperor Alexius IV, a grand prize all Mongols coveted. The final game was severed head catch. Only four were allowed to enter, each bearing their lucky severed head. They had trained hard for this moment. It was win or nothing; there was no second place. The warriors drew up into a square with the space of three dead bodies between them. When Subojin yelled Gah they began to throw the heads around the square, slowly at first but then quicker and quicker. The crowd watched in silence, the tension could be cut with a knife. To outsiders severed head catch was an easy, if gruesome, game. However the heads were heavy, a weak man could not throw them far enough or for long enough. The heads were thrown quickly in an attempt to catch a player out and banish them from the game. Hand-eye coordination was a must, having a head drop on your foot was a painful experience. Anyone who has held a week old severed head can attest for the bravery. Since you had to catch the head to stay in the game you could end up sticking your finger into a rotting eye or being bitten by a gaping jaw. Even the bravest of Mongols didn't like heads that bit back.

The game continued long into the evening. As the light began to fail there were only two warriors and their heads left. The heads flew so fast they were just a blur, sweat streamed off the warriors as they continued to play past exhaustion. The crowd were growing restless, wanting the game to end so they could go back to their yurts and drink their evening head soup. Then finally it was over, Bardai, the younger player had caught the head by it's nose which came off in his hand. The head dropped to the floor. The crowd went wild, yelling Gah at the tops of their voices. Some of Yesugatai's friends came and lifted him onto their shoulders and took him to Subojin where he was awarded his prize.

As Subojin went back to his yurt for the night he smiled. The Mongol Olympics had been a huge success; he had finally managed to get the head of Emperor Alexius IV out of his clothes chest. He would hold them again next year. Gah



(I shall leave the poll on George's fate open until tomorrow evening GMT or until it drops off page 1, which ever happens first. So far D is winning. If this continues I shall do the weird ones first before writing the chivalrous story, which will begin the chivalrous series. After that I may do the drinker series [Basil the drunken Kataphractoi anyone?], which I was going to do next, but then I came up with the whole George slaying thing at the suggestion of Mount Suribachi. Anyway stick a vote in; it helps to keep this topic bumped.)

[Oaty]

Quote[/b] ]VOTE NOW
Should I continue this series with other vices and virtues or should I give it up? I can think of possible stories for most of the 'funny' ones like the alcoholic series, the indecisives etc. This thread had had over 50 views and only two comments so far so it looks unpopular. So vote now, do I continue or not?


Hurry up and reply to frogbeastereggs post before she gets the Hesitant Poster v/v lol

C Please definately c I dont want any chance of those dancing kikkomans coming back to this board in mass lol

[karmastray]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ July 18 2003,13:23)]Vote Now Do you want to see George killed by:
A) A chivalrous young warrior during the 'chivalrous' series of virtues, which I will start sooner instead of later if A is most popular.
B) A rock to the head with the fake vice 'unlucky'
C) Die in battle due to a combination of a peasants revolt, a bad last stand and some Umarian mushrooms. Warning: May Contain Kikkoman
D) All of the above in some kind of parallel universe of George killing
The one that wins gets written; the others go in the bin In the event of a tie or no one voting I'll just pick one out of a hat.

I vote for C, the combination sounds like it'd be hilarious

[frogbeastegg]

Ok, time to tot up the votes. We have:
2 D
2 C
1 A or D

Since no one else voted for A I shall count Dîn-Heru's vote as a D so it doesn't get wasted. That means D wins I've got three stories to write, I'd better get busy

I hereby declare this season of George slaying open

I wonder if I can fit a dragon in here somewhere, after all a George often has a dragon. I know this will get things going

http://burns.thefinaldimension.org/contrib/edoom/Wizard.gif

Hesitant poster? Isn't that the one which goes:
After not receiving replies on several threads this poster has become shy.
-2 to posting speed
+1 to contrived posts that try to be funny
+1 to excessive smilie usage

[frogbeastegg]

The journey begins

George sat on his war horse covered from head to toe in black plate armour, the horse was a massive black stallion. The ensemble had been chosen for the dashing, yet evil look it presented to the outside world. George had a good feeling about today. He was about to kill the king of England in the last battle of this civil war. Soon he would be the king and all would bow to him, he would create paradise on earth as it had been revealed in his dream so long ago. The king and his army had taken up potion on the steep hillside. George gave the signal to charge and his men started forward. As always George led from the front, he would show his men that nothing could stop him After a minute or so large boulders came raining down upon George's army, the king had catapults. George silently swore to kill his spies; they had failed to warn him of this. George brandished his sword and gave an inspirational speech Keep going If you retreat to save your lives I will kill you Fight and you may live, run and you will die Suddenly George found himself on the ground, some ungrateful blighter had knocked him off his horse during his speech Angry he started to get back up but he noticed that there was a large black body lying at his feet. Hey, he's wearing my armour I'll have his head George reached down go grab the man but found his hand went straight through the body. Heysa, thisen nosa workin' Georgy garbled a high-pitched voice behind George.

George stood up and turned around. The voice came from a giant frog like, skinny creature. What did you say? he asked. Hallodaley, mesa bein Jarjar Binks Mesa your guide George frowned in confusion What are you jabbering on about, don't you speak English? Mesa spek alrighty, yousa noen understand? Yousa hit der subtilin' button. The creature handed George a small oblong box and pointed to a button marked 'subtitles' George pressed it. Thisn being better. Mesa Jarjar Binks Mesa your guide through bombad hell Strangely as the creature spoke his words appeared in writing underneath his mouth (This is better. I'm Jarjar Binks. I'm your guide through horrible hell ) What did you say earlier George demanded. {I introduced myself You can't touch the world now, so you can’t pick up your body.) George looked perplexed behind his mask. He dropped the box and tried once again to pick up the body. Yousa noen doin' that Yousa dead, tis bombad Follonen me yousa bein'. Following mesa to hell. George growled in frustration and picked up the box again. (You can't do that You are dead it's terrible Follow me now, we are going to hell) with that the creature grabbed George's arm and pulled him into a hole in the ground.

George looked around at the dark, gloomy place they landed in. Where are we, what's happening? Did you say I was dead? How, when? (All in good time Georgy boy, we've got to get to the Big Room. ) George grabbed the frog thing by it's long ear and pulled hard, We are not moving until you answer my questions The frog think looked distressed but it answered anyway. (You died in the battle, a large rock hit you in the head, your head got splattered all over the field. You can watch the replay in the Big Room. As for where we are, we are in hell. The special hell reserved for annoying characters from film, TV and literature. I'll give you a tour later. Now we must go to the Big Room, all your questions will be answered there. ) George released Jarjar's ear and followed him along some narrow passageways to the Big Room.

The Big Room fitted its description; it was a very big room. In the centre were a large flat screen and several chairs. A shadowy figure was stood waiting. Jarjar Binks, what took you so long? it said in a voice like a hundred people arguing at once. Welcome George, welcome to hell. You are here because you are a boring, stereotypical villain with no redeeming qualities. You are not funny, interesting or open to the readers empathy, and so you will spend the rest of eternity in Bad Character Hell. George did not like this one bit, Who the heck do you think you are? he demanded. I am Everybody. the voice replied. Everybody? What are you doing in this place? asked George, more curious then he had been since his dream eleven years previously. I am the biggest fictional character in the world. I am the Everybody who is called on to support a poor argument, yes I am the Everybody of Childish Arguments. You may have heard of me in shuch speeches as 'Everybody knows that'.I have no character what so ever, so I am bound to this hell. Cool said George, before he wondered why he said that, after all it wasn't like him to be happy or excited. He didn't even know what cool meant. What's going on, why am I acting so strangely? he asked. Here in Bad Character Hell you are vulnerable to the worst writers in the world, the creators of Fanfic. There is the occasional good writer, but at the moment you are in the hands of a real hack. These hopeless amateurs can rarely get a persons character right, instead they transform you into a pale reflection of your true self. I am afraid that is your fate now, to be killed and resurrected in terrible fiction for all eternity No matter how crappy the excuse, how poor the story you will be dragged in and forced to go along with things. The nightmare will only end when they forget about you and move on to tormenting another unfortunate soul. Er, so basically I'm dead, in hell and destined to be in stupid stories until people get bored of me? asked George in an uncertain voice. (Yes, that is the truth. ) answered Jarjar, (My own unpopularity has condemned me to spend eons being killed in various nasty ways. People hate my stupid way of talking, my toilet humour, and my squeaky voice. ) Everybody reached over and patted Jarjar on the shoulder, There, there you did have some funny moments. The children liked you; you were a groundbreaking special effect. One day you will be free, I have foreseen it. Jarjar looked grateful. Not a chance in hell said Everybody behind his hand to George.

So what do you guys do around here then? I mean when you aren't involved in some God Awful Story? asked George, frowning in horror at the tosh coming out of his mouth. We can watch Time. replied Everybody, pointing at the screen. Would you like to see your death? George wanted to say no, but the author had writen that he agreed. Jarjar pushed a large switch on the screen and it immediately displayed a battlefield. The picture zoomed in to show George in his armour astride his horse. The little George waved his hand and started to advance. Wo, that armour look's really bad ass dude exclaimed George, flinching slightly as he wondered what a bad ass was, perhaps some kind of donkey? The film reached the point where George started to speak. He had just got up to I will kill you when a large bolder hurtled down from the sky and hit Georges head. The head was pulped like a melon and all three watchers shuddered. (Let's watch that again, this time in slow motion) suggested Jarjar reaching for another button. The display zoomed in closer as the rock flew slowly at George, before hitting him on the head. In slow motion it was possible to watch the blood spurt and George watched fragments of his brains fly out. (How about watching it again) suggested Jarjar reaching for the button. George panicked at the thought of watching it again. He quickly grabbed the frog things hand and said, Why did I have to die? I had nearly conquered Britain. There are two reasons why you died. Neither will make you happy. Are you sure you wish to know? Answered Everybody. Yes, tell me. It can't be worse than watching my own death again. Very well. The first reason why you died is in your vices and virtues sheet. Everybody waved a hand at the screen and a piece of parchment was displayed. There was a picture of George at the top, underneath it noted that he had 1 loyalty, 9 dread, 8 stars and 3 acumen. The picture scrolled down to display several vices. Hideous scars, pride and unlucky. (Unlucky? I've not heard of that one before) said Jarjar. This particular vice was created specially for this story. It turns you into a magnet for catapult missiles. It's pretty lame Everybody told George. The second reason that you died is because you are boring, the readers and been complaining and the author didn't enjoy writing pride. A poll was held to decide your fate, you death was a popular option. Auw nice exclaimed George, Even my own creator doesn't like me, what hope do I have in these Fanfic thingies you mentioned. I think it's terrible how a character can get so warped out of shape that they get killed by audience demand I was originally intended to be a Darth Vader alike, only funnier. I used to be popular Then along comes one bad story, which incidently I didn't want to be in, and bam Hell it is Yes replied Everybody, It is disturbing that the poll for your death attracted more interest than anything else on the topic, it is almost like a cheap publicity stunt. However we are only characters, we must obey our authors.

An air of gloom descended on the big room as the characters pondered the fickleness of popularity. Then Jarjar looked up (You should meet some of the others George. There's quite a crowd, but most of them are off in a Fanfic at the moment. ) George nodded his agreement. Everybody pushed a button on the wall and spoke Will everyone please come to the Big Room to welcome our new hated character. After a few minutes two characters entered the room. One was a young schoolgirl dressed in robes and carrying a pile of books. Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. said the girl in a precise English accent. I'm here because my endless swatting annoys people. I also enjoy exams, which means anyone who has done higher education wants to murder me for being so callous. I don't have much of a personality outside of knowing everything and saying stupid things like being expelled is worse than death. Fortunately my last few books have given me a more likable appearance, so I may be leaving soon. The other character was bright yellow with brown hair and a stupid looking mushtash. Hey didly doodly. Welcome new neighboroonie he enthused as he grabbed George's hand and shook it. Hermione pushed the yellow one back, This is Ned Flanders. He's here because his endless optimism is depressing. Also his habit of saying stupid things is highly irritating. George nodded in agreement while Flanders grinned. The door opened as the short curly, red headed girl came in. Jarjar leaned over to George and whispered (That’s Little Orphan Annie. If you go near her she will start to sing about her hard knock life. She's here because she is too cute, her singing is nonsensical and worst of all, she is always happy about everything. Keep away from her. ) The girl tap danced here way into a corner where she sat singing happily. The next character was also a red head. This one was obviously so important she deserved an entire paragraph to her self. Which she got.

The new comer was female, tall and she had red-gold hair that shone with inner radiance. The light reflected off her gorgeous hair blinded everyone. She was forty years old, but had the body and skin tone of a twenty year old, a particularly attractive twenty year old. In fact if she hadn't been wearing a badge with 'I'm forty today' written on it George would have thought she was twenty. The woman looked his in the eye and George was amazed. She had perfect jade green eyes, they had flashed when they had met his gaze. Her lips were cherry red, natural just like the rest of her. This woman didn't need makeup. George felt his eyes travel down the rest of the stranger’s body. She was wearing a black, skintight cat suit that hugged her tight curves, displaying them to perfection. Clipped to her belt was a cylinder just like the one George had used like a sword in his first dream. The woman noticed that George was staring at her and drooling. Hiyya honey she said in a husky purr. Mara You must remember what we have taught you You must resist the pull of the Star Wars Expanded Universe, only then can you begin your journey back into the light. said Everybody urgently, Those so called professional authors will continue to write you as a Mary Sue if you don't resist Fight the EU Mara. The woman shook her head and screamed, crying perfect tears from those amazing eyes. Suddenly she straightened up and started to look normal. Hi, I'm sorry about that. My names Mara Jade, I'm Luke Skywalker’s wife. Unfortunately the authors of the Star Wars books obsess over me and turn me into their idea of the perfect female. I'm more evil than Darth Vader, more heroic than Luke, more beautiful than Leia, more daring than Han, closer to the Emperor than any other. I am a Jedi master, a mother, a pilot, a smuggler, an assassin, the Emperor's Hand, a genius and sole saviour of the galaxy. I worked for years as an assassin for the most evil man in the galaxy without being evil myself, except when I am talking about how hard my life has been, in which case I am more evil than any character from the film. I have crashed my space ship, this is a sacrifice of greater meaning than Luke's looking his hand, his family and his teacher. It also beats Leia's loss of an entire planet, torture, loss of Han, finding out Vader was her father and that she had kissed her brother. I am highly sensitive of others feelings as I told Leia that she was a selfish idiot because she let my baby be kidnapped at gunpoint against an army of thugs just hours after her youngest son had died and her other two children were declared missing presumed dead. See, my baby is much more important than my niece and two nephews, even if they do love me more than their own mother. Plus my nephews are both sexually attracted to me and my husband, their uncle, finds this funny instead of disturbing. Oh, and my brother in law Han finds me totally atractive too. I lead all of them on, flirting with them shamelessly. Also I have single-handedly saved the galaxy numerous times by sleeping with my husband and broadcasting the lurid details across the force to a distant battle, forcing dying people to watch my cavorting. As you can see I've been very busy. Thank God thought George, there is a character much worse than me after all This one is a professional creation and all Mara seemed to read his thoughts (after all she is the most powerful Jedi Master ever ) as she shrugged apologetically. It's hard to believe I used to be a normal, likeable character, isn't it? Everyone in the room shouted their agreement.

Everyone looked at George, Mara is proof that good characters can go bad. She is also proof that a character can begin to redeem themselves with the aid of good writers. Your journey begins here. You are being summoned to a story set before the death that sent you here. The poll says that you must die three times; this will be your second death. Use it well. George felt himself pulled towards a light and he prayed that his next story would be better.



If you are reading this then you have made it to the end of part 1 (either that or you skipped down, naughty ) I'm sorry for the rather long chunk on Mara Jade but she is the perfect character to join George in Bad Character Hell. All the stuff I wrote about her is true, and I missed alot more out Her intro is exactly like they write her, she's a bad shampoo advert bought to life She has been annoying me for years, the worst thing is I used to like her before she got the 'make over' into the hag that exists today. I mean how can an assassin never kill anyone if she is good at her job? (and she is good, Mara is perfect at everything) Isn't murdering people evil, so how can an assassin be oh so perfect and never have been evil in her entire life That's what they expect us to swallow in the Star Wars EU http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mad.gif :Froggy takes a deep breath, calm, peace, must get back on topic: The next two stories will have much more TW in them, this one just sets up the idea of Bad Character Hell. It does require some explaining after all. I'm sorry this part is so long, it's harder to read than it should be. Part 2 will be up when I get some feeling back in my fingers.

[frogbeastegg]

Second times the charm
George stood on his battlements glaring down at the rabble outside. He had been trapped in this castle for nearly three weeks now, trapped by a bunch of rebelling peasants George clenched his fist as he tried to master his anger. He must stay calm, he was outnumbered 9-1 and getting angry would just make his position worse. He had decided that he would sally forth from the castle and make a last stand outside if help didn't arrive by tomorrow. He would not die shut up in his own castle like a sheep in a pen He would show these peasants that Sir George did not give up, he was a knight, and he would die like one.

That evening George was eating his meagre rations, a plateful of mushrooms. The long siege had depleted the castles stores badly; the men were surviving on one small meal a day. George locked his door before sitting down to eat, alone in the room as usual. He took his iron mask of when he ate and he did not appreciate being stared at by his servants. George speared a mushroom on the tip of his table knife and stared at it suspiciously. They were a variety he had never seen before, the steward had called them Umarian mushrooms, apparently they came from the east. Bracing himself for a strange flavour George ate the mushroom. It didn't really have much flavour and George quickly ate the rest of the mushrooms before retiring to his chambers for one last nights sleep. As he lay in bed George noticed that the room was beginning to look strange, the colours seemed brighter, more cheerful. George put it down to strain and turned over to go to sleep. Several minutes later he heard a tiny voice All right lads, in position and one two a one two three four Step kick, step kick step kick turn

George sat bolt upright and looked around for the source of the voice. There was no one in the room, but the voice persisted Step kick, step kick, step kick and turn. George also thought he could hear the sound of tiny feet dancing. Movement on the floor caught George's eye. What he saw amazed him. There were three little men dancing away on the floor. They were all about three inches high and were naked apart from a white loincloth and a red cloak. As if that wasn't strange enough the little men had half a fish on their head instead of hair The man on the right of the row seemed to be in charge as he ordered his friends Start singing immediately the men started to sing in strangely deep voices Show you Show me Kikkoman Kikkoman. George could stay silent no longer, Who the heck are you. The men stopped singing and dancing and looked up at George. We're the Kikkoman, the disciples of the Great Lehesu, Supreme Soy Sauce Thug and the Great Prophet of Soy George did not feel better, What is a kikkoman and why are you singing in my room?. The lead kikkoman drew himself up to his full three and one sixteenth inches and replied, I told you, we are the disciples the Lehesu. We dance hypnotically and force people to buy soy sauce from Japan. We also sing a funny song, though most of it's in Japanese so you wouldn't understand it. Well whatever you are will you please leave? I've got a big battle tomorrow and I want to be well rested. asked George, still slightly stunned. Oh no, we can't do that The Master sent us here to dance, we used to practise at a place called Totalwar.org but they threw us out They said we took up too much space and there were complaints about our hypnotic dancing turning the patrons into mindless drones. If we don't practise here our mission to spread the Gospel of the Great Sauce will fail. But my battle... Never mind that, why don't you watch us OK lads, back into formation. The kikkoman scurried back into a line three wide. And a one, a two, a one two three four, the kikkoman began to dance in time to the leaders chants, kicking with one leg, then the other before turning ninety degrees to the right and repeating. George found that he couldn't look away, as simple as the dance was it was strangely watchable. At the leaders command the little men began to sing, Show you Show me Kikkoman Kikkoman before launching off into a language George didn't understand. Finally, as the first light of dawn was showing on the horizon the kikkoman stopped dancing and left. George fell into an exhausted sleep.

An hour later he was woken up by his squire with a plate of food, more of those strange mushrooms. George ate them quickly before donning his armour. He was so tied he could barely stand. On autopilot George stumbled from his chambers and joined the rest of his small army. Fortunately he had decided to fight on foot, he would probably have fallen off his horse. The army slowly marched onto the battlefield and drew up opposite the rebels. George's second in command asked him for his final orders. The plan had been to take up position on a hill and remain in close order. The rebels would have to advance to meet George's army and would arrive tired. This would give them a reasonable chance of survival. As George stared blearily at his general he saw a kikkoman on the grass in front of the rebel army. It was dancing. George's anger spiked, washing the exhaustion from his system, Kill them Kill them all, charge. There was a fatal flaw in this strategy, George was talking about the kikkoman but his army thought he meant the rebels. They charged straight at the massive enemy army.

Two hours later George was staring at the sky. His mask had fallen off; the straps that held it in place had broken when he fell. Strangely he felt no pain, even though there was a broadhead arrow lodged firmly in his shoulder. George knew he was dying, but for some reason he didn't care. Hey mister, you all right? asked a familiar voice. George moved his head slightly and saw the troop of kikkoman standing next to him looking concerned. So he hadn't managed to kill any of them, oh well, it didn't matter any more. The kikkoman started to dance and sing and George began to laugh.

A few minutes later George was aware of a second presence next to him. It was a frog like creature. Suddenly George's memory returned a rush of information. Hello Jarjar, is that it? The creature handed George the box and George hit 'subtitles' (Yes that's it for this story. We can go back to hell now, follow me.) George got up, leaving his body behind on the grass, and followed Jarjar into the light. Once in Bad Character Hell they went straight to the Big Room to meet Everybody. Welcome back George. The second of your deaths has passed. You are beginning to redeem yourself; you have become humorous and somewhat sympathetic. You have eaten hallucinogenic mushrooms. You may rest a while before your third and final death begins.. George sat down in a chair, When I was in the story I didn't remember any of this, why not?. It is the rule of Plot Convenience, you will only know what is needed for the story. explained Everbody. If you remembered all this it would take a lot of explaining, something this current author is not up to. When your third death begins you will once again forget. George nodded and began to relax, awaiting his third death.



Sorry it took so long. As you've probably noticed I've been writing a beginners guide to Total War, it's taken up a lot of my time recently. I'll keep doing the stories although they may be less frequent until the guide is perfected. George has one death left in the story that starts the chivalry series; the next story will be much less weird, a bit like the first series with John.

If you weren't here in the forums when Lehesu had his infamous dancing Kikkoman sig thank your lucky stars They were so hypnotic I ended up with one in my own sig, although it doesn't dance. If you really want to find out what happened and expose yourself to mind altering Japanese advertising just search in all forums for the word 'kikkoman'. 'Set the date to in the last year (yes I know it was in the last month, this topic could stay buoyant for months though) and bingo http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif

I didn't invent the Umarian mushrooms, you can thank Maniac for that

[KukriKhan]

Moved to No Name Yet to guage effect.

[Mount Suribachi]

frogbeastegg may I just say Bravo

I've only just read your last few stories

Mongolian Olympics - brilliant What can I say? It reminded me very much of the Douglas Adams short story on Ghengis Khan (there's those Douglas Adams comparisons again&#33http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif. Very original , very funny, very good.

And good old Sir George...why do you hate him so much? Anyways, brilliant, original - Bad Character Hell, fantastic http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif

I've never come across that Star Wars chick before, but she sounds pretty funny. Kikkomen, Umarian Mushrooms, JarJarBinks...does it get any better than this? Your talents are wasted writing for us muppets here at the Org (seriously)

Anyways, I can't wait for you to finish the story of Sir George and his redemptive death...

[frogbeastegg]

Behind the Vices and Virtues IX

Chivalry

George stood on his battlements staring down at the rabble outside. He had been trapped in this castle for nearly three weeks now, trapped by a bunch of rebelling peasants George clenched his fist as he tried to master his despair. He must stay calm, he was outnumbered 9-1 and getting upset would just make his position worse. He knew that the end was near; even if help arrived his old wounds were becoming so painful he could not continue this life for long. George had decided to trade his battered life for those of his men, he would challenge the rebel leader to single combat with the fate of the castle’s army at stake. Taking a deep breath to steady himself George beckoned his messenger over.

Raoul stood on the ground and stared up at the castles battlements, that dark figure near the top must be Sir George. Raoul squinted; yes there was no doubt, after all who else wore nothing but black and a facemask made from iron? Many men with such a clear shot at the enemy commander would have taken it without hesitation, yet Raoul did not. Sir George was an evil man, he had terrorised this province for too long, but he did not deserve to die shot from a safe distance, it was not chivalrous. Raoul smiled sadly, he may only be an armourer’s apprentice but he knew far more about chivalry than many nobles. As Raoul watched the castle gate opened and a man rode out with the flag of truce, no doubt a messenger wanting to see the rebel general. Sure enough several minutes later Godric hurried over looking quite excited:
‘Sir, there’s a messenger from the castle that must mean that Sir George has sent conditions We’ve won, it’s over’
‘You don’t know that, until the message is read we won’t know for sure.’ answered Raoul, ‘Speaking of which I’d better get over there.’
Men saluted as Raoul walked briskly to the command tent (an old, patched tent that had belonged to some travelling players), ducking he pushed his way inside. Immediately everyone snapped to attention.
‘Sir, this is the message Sir George sent. The messenger is waiting for your reply.’
Raoul nodded and broke the seal on the parchment. The message surprised him so much that he had to read it several times.
‘Sir George is offering to fight me in single combat for the fate of his army. If he wins we must let his men leave this province peacefully, along with all their belongings and his personal treasure. If he looses we can keep all the loot, but must still allow his men to go in peace.’
Gasps and mutterings of shock could be heard in the tent before Edwin, the second in command, spoke up:
‘It’s a trap It must be, Sir George has never been concerned with the welfare of his men before, why would he start now?’
‘All men can change Edwin, Sir George used to be a fair man before he was badly wounded fighting for the king. Perhaps he has repented his evil ways and changed.’
‘Sir, you can’t be thinking of accepting Sir George is not honourable, he will cut you down and rush our camp slaughtering our army – your army’
‘My death is no great loss and the army will be on standby, if it’s a trap we will be prepared and cause great damage to Sir George’s army in return. If Sir George is sincere then we have the change to end this siege with the loss of only one life and that surely makes the risk worth taking.’ Raoul turned to his scribe: ‘Take this down. Sir George, I Raoul the Armourer do accept your challenge. I give you my word of honour that your conditions will be met and I entrust that you vow likewise. I shall meet you in the large clear space 500 yards from the castle gates at ten of the clock tomorrow.’

George read the reply with satisfaction, everything was going as planned. He called the sad remains of his hand picked army together to address them a final time.
‘You will gather your things and prepare to leave the castle tomorrow. I have come to terms with the rebel general; I will fight him in single combat. Regardless of the outcome you are to be allowed to leave this province in peace and you will do just that. You will not start a fight, loot the villages or try to avenge me if I fall. I have sworn that you will follow my orders, do not break my oath. That is all.’ In other circumstances George would have been worried about them breaking his oath but there was little danger of that this time – there were only 27 tired and wounded men left from his grand army of elite soldiers. Even so there were some angry mutterings; one of the soldiers was particularly vocal:
‘He’s gone mad No looting, honour, single combat, hogswash I say we get out of here and loot our way to the borders We’re more than a match for those peasants What do you say, are you with me’ Several cheers rang out and George felt a wave of anger run through him. ‘Then lets get ready Hone your blades, fix your armour for tomorrow we fight’ yelled the ringleader, George recognised him as Mathew, a halberdier. ‘He must think me a fool, here I am sacrificing myself and look at the thanks I get’ thought George furiously as he strode forward, drawing his broadsword as he moved. Mathew never knew what hit him; he was dead before he hit the ground.
‘Anyone else like to mutiny?’ demanded George. The men stared at him in fear before shaking their heads and dispersing rapidly. ‘No, I thought not.’ said George quietly as they left.

Several hours later George set the second phase of his plan into motion – he allowed a kitchen boy to ‘escape’ to the rebel camp with knowledge of his weak points. Raoul would have the advantage tomorrow because of this boy. By the evening George had prepared his equipment for the next day. Instead of his customary black plate armour he was going to wear a plain suit of chain mail with a simple basinet helmet. Heavy armour would just weigh him down and make it harder for him to die. If he was honest with himself George knew that he never wanted to wear his black armour again, it symbolised how far he had strayed from the path he had sworn to follow upon becoming a knight. He had murdered the innocent instead of protecting them, he had robbed the church instead of serving it, and he had plotted treason instead of guarding his king’s life. The knowledge that his dream was one of hell, not heaven had grown heavier each day since he had realised the truth. He was still surprised, and glad, that he had seen Raoul commanding this army of rebels. Even though the man was just an armourers apprentice he followed the ways of chivalry just as George had dreamed of once. He had shown George the error of his ways, even though the two men had never met and George knew that he could not kill the man who had shown him the light. George decided not to spend his last night on earth asleep, instead he stayed sat in front of the fire brooding on his dark thoughts. He thought back to Mathew, that man had been in his service for years and had fought by side his side on several occasions. His death was a great shame, if only he hadn’t mutinied there was nothing else George could have done – was there? Slowly George sank into sleep.

The next morning Raoul began to arm up. He had found some basic chain mail armour on the battlefield. There were also plate reinforces for his arms and legs; a plain iron kettle hat guarded his head. His weapon of choice was the billhook, a weapon he had practised with since childhood and was skilled with. The bill betrayed his humble birth – it was an agricultural tool rather than a bill made for war but it would still be highly effective against Sir George’s armour. Raoul’s night had been disturbed by a kitchen boy who had escaped from the castle. The boy had told him all about George’s old wounds but Raoul didn’t take much notice; he would not take advantage of George’s weaknesses to win because that would be dishonourable. Saying a few final prayers Raoul stepped out of his tent and left for the appointed site.

Sir George was armed quickly by his squire, regretting that he had spent the night in slumber. Saying one last goodbye to his men he left for the battlefield. Raoul was already there with several of his men. If it were anyone else George would have worried that Raoul had broken his word and was going to mob him before attacking the unprepared castle, but George knew from his weeks of watching Raoul that he was too honourable for that. The rebels seemed surprised that George had come alone without even his squire; they must have been anticipating treachery. George sadly admitted to himself that only a week ago he would have come here with twenty of his best men and struck Raoul down before rushing his camp and slaughtering the rebels like sheep. The two men greeted each other formally and then George said
‘When my men leave watch them, there was some trouble last night they don’t like the idea of leaving peacefully much. This province has suffered enough without more fighting.’
Once again the rebels looked surprised but Raoul quickly agreed and ordered his sergeants to prepare parties to follow the refugees out of the province. With the preparations complete the two men took up positions ready to fight.

When the fight began George swung at Raoul’s head, hoping to force him to fight very aggressively and bringing a rapid conclusion to the match. Raoul ducked and swung the bottom of his billhooks shaft at George’s legs. George quickly backed out of range; he needed this to look good after all this fight was going to be his epitaph. Raoul swung again, this time at George’s side before reversing his strike to catch George behind the knee, severing the lacing holding his chain mail legging in place. Behind his iron mask George smiled, it would be hard to win this fight if he wanted to. Covering his vulnerability George lunged with his sword, Raoul easily skipped to one side and counter attacked at George’s left arm. Once again it was a glancing blow that damaged George’s armour but doing no real harm. The two men circled each other looking for an opening, George tilted his sword grip slightly making his right flank more vulnerable but Raoul ignored the opening Angry George swung at Raoul, forcing him to give ground, if he wouldn’t take advantage of his weakness George would force him to fight out of self-defence. Raoul kept giving ground before George, parrying his blows with the metal head of his billhook. Suddenly he entangled the blade of George’s sword in one the backwards facing hooks of his weapon before twisting the billhook and pushing back at George. George felt his sword fly from his hand as he fell backwards and he braced himself for the killing blow. It never came; Raoul stood back and urged George to his feet
‘I will not strike a man when he is down, fight on Sir George.’
George could scarcely believe this, chivalry was one thing but continuing a fight which could very well end in your death was unheard of outside of stories The two men once again took up position and began to fight once more. This time George fought in earnest, he knew now that Raoul would never fall for his openings – he would have to force him to strike a killing blow. George swung his sword in a blur, fainting to the right then striking to the left before kicking with his right foot and catching Raoul in the stomach. He followed up quickly hammering the pommel of his sword into Raoul’s chin and stunning him. A feeling of elation swept through George, at long last he was fighting with the speed and skill he had witnessed in that dream he had so long ago. Raoul recovered quickly and smashed the butt of his weapon on George’s foot before whipping the blade back and cutting deeply into George’s side. George collapsed to the ground in a wave of blood; he landed so heavily that his helmet flew off taking the iron mask with it and revealing his battered face to all. Gasps of horror ran through the small group until Raoul spoke up
‘Silence Show a dying man some respect, get away from here and let his last moments be ones of peace.’
Shamed the other rebels left in silence. Raoul knelt down next to George and rolled him onto his back
‘Is there anything I can do? Do you want a priest?’
‘No, I have done to much evil for any prayers to help me now.’ gasped George through the pain. ‘Why didn’t you strike sooner, I came here to die’
‘I couldn’t take advantage of you like that, it wouldn’t be right.’ answered Raoul seriously ‘I knew that you would begin to fight properly and then you could die with honour.’
‘It’s strange how something that seems right can be so wrong’ George said weakly, ‘I wanted to do good, I followed a dream I thought heaven sent but it took me to the depths of hell. I can never make up for what I’ve done.’
‘You made a start today, you saved the lives of your men.’
‘Yes, but… they ..are..brigands…and murderers…’choked George, barely able to speak.
‘They may change as you have done. There is always hope.’
George felt suddenly peaceful and he relaxed as though to sleep. He could no longer feel the wound that was allowing his blood to seep away like a river. He had done some good, Raoul would not lie about that so perhaps he could redeem himself eventually. George smiled as his vision faded into a white light.

Finis.

Next up: Gentle knight.



Lets see, why has this one taken so long? Well I've been writing one guide and updating another (frogbeasteggs Total War Unit Guide and the Beginners Guide to Total War), suffering in the heat wave sweeping Britain, keeping my PC off to avoid testing my anti surge plugs in the thunderstorms sweeping Britain, catching up on my reading, fixing Shogun, playing Shogun, getting on with my life and generally running around like a whirling dervish Gentle Knight will follow sometime soonish, but I don't know when.

For these who don't speak English English hogswash is an expression with a meaning similar to rubbish or bullwasteproducts, only older.

I know this story isn't funny but I couldn't find a way to make it funny, it just isn't suited to humour. Gentle knight will probably be slightly lighter but don't expect another Mongol Olympics. After Gentle Knight things should get funny again for a while. This story is probably a bit long but after working on my beginners guide it seems very short I can't believe I ever thought any of these stories was long; they are less than 10,000 characters

I'd like to say (yet another) thank you to the org staff for setting up this forum. It's actually easy to find this topic now, before I had to hunt it down with my bookmark. This forum also gives people a chance to read my work (in the entrance hall the topic only stayed on page 1 for a couple of hours before vanishing into the mists) and either enjoy it or complain about the dodgy standards of fiction here and that's priceless.

Mount Suribachi - as to why I dislike George all the reasons are there in 'The Journey Begins', that story contains a lot of truth and takes a lot of digs at the author (who wrote this slander? ) and the world in general, see how many you can spot (if anyone gets them all they'll win a prize - this fabulous chocolate chip cookie). I think he's redeemed himself now though, 'Second Times the Charm' was quite fun to write and 'Chivalry' gets closer to what he was originally meant to be. I've read Douglas Adams Hitch hikers guide to the galaxy, I found the first few chapters mildly amusing but the rest wasn't too good. I didn't know he had written a Mongol story; maybe I'd enjoy that more. The few other people who have compared my to another author chose Terry Pratchett. I can see some similarities there, now if only I can get the completely true but funny observations on the real world, the Granny Weatherwax of a character and the millions of readers hanging on my every word I'll be happy http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif

I'm glad you liked Mongolian Olympics, it contains the best line I've written: His request was politely refused when Subojin knocked him unconscious with a club. That one makes me laugh everytime.

[Mount Suribachi]

Hitchhikers guide is strange. The 1st book is hilarious, 2nd is funnym 3rd mildly amusing, 4th a bore. I've not read the 5th, but I'm assured by those who have that it is a return to form.

As for his Ghenghis Khan story, it was in a comic relief book I got for a chrimbo pressie waaaaaay back in the 80s.

Basically he stops at a pillaged village, storms into a hut, poor young woman prepares herself to be raped....but Ghenghis doesn't want sex, he wants to be nagged Its very amusing. Then a character from Hitchikers (whose name escapes me) turns up in a spaceship. He is the one who spends eternity travelling round space & time insulting people.

Ghengis Khan?

Yes

THE Ghenghis Khan?

Yes

You are tosspot, a complete wanker

With that the alien ticks his clipboard and gets back into his spaceship.

Ghengis is so upset, he burns down Eastern Europe http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif

There was another one about the spokesman for a nuclear power plant who has to explain to the media about an accident that has turned the falling snow black. He come up with the classic line

The fact that we can have an accident like this proves that nuclear power is safe