VOTE: wowbanger vs. E.K.
The mighty challenge between wowbanger and E.K. has now come to decision time. Now it's your task to decide who wins the battle of quills and keyboards.
Wowbanger's story
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Negotiations
“Parlay,” cried out the lone horseman as he rode up towards the solid, unbroken lines of the waiting spearmen. Chosen for his basic grasp of the Latin language, the solitary rider stared in horror at the scene of death before him. “I have come to negotiate the return of our wounded and slain warriors,” the rider continued in broken Latin. “Once our warriors are safely returned our armies shall leave this field in peace.”
“On whose authority have you come to negotiate?” responded the commander of the waiting spears.
“I speak on the authority of our great and noble leader and ruler, our glorious Khan.
After a few moments of hurried conversation the mail clad Italian again called out to the horseman, “We accept the terms of your negotiation, you may send 30 unarmed men to carry off your dead and dying soldiers. They have one hour from now to complete their task, after that our truce comes to an end.” With that the horseman turned his horse and rode swiftly back to tell his Khan of the result of his parley.
Within fifteen minutes a party of soldiers had begun searching through the bodies that lay strewn across the field, carrying the wounded back to their own lines and piling the dead into a great pyre ready to be burnt according to their pagan custom. The spearmen, content that the pagans weren’t plotting any surprises began to settle down and drop their guard.
Seeing this, the 30 brave men who had volunteered for this role plucked up the weapons of the fallen warriors and charged at the idle spearmen, screaming their war cries. Although heavily outnumbered those courageous few knew that they would gain great glory and riches if they could only disrupt the Christian’s formation long enough for their cavalry to smash them into pieces. Indeed before long the thunder of hundreds of hooves could be heard approaching from over the hill as the horsemen charged again, this time to glory.
E.K.'s story
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Fatal Mistake
We stood together in a line that seemed to stretch on forever. Nothing could stop us, we were victorious. The enemy lay dead at our feet, slain by our razor sharp spears. The battlefield once sounded the harsh cry of battle but now there is nothing but the groans of the dying enemy. The men of the company looked around warily, was that all they had? Surely a victory wouldn’t be so easily won?
“Sir can we loot the bodies?” another man in the line who was staring at a beautifully carved sword that lay next to a fallen Mamluk asked to the commander.
“I don’t see why not” the commander replied “Break Ranks!”
Nobody moved, we just looked warily at each other unsure whether to leave the safety of the spear wall.
The commander stared unbelieving at our hesitation “What is this! Are you scared? How could you be scared of these heathen bastards!” The commander yelled, his voice raising to a pitch that made even the stronger men in our company flinch.
Across the arid sand dunes, out of sight from the crusaders the Mamluk commander smiled and turned to his companion and uttered one word “Ready?” Smiling his companion looked back to check the rest of the men were all ready. “Ready” he replied. The Mamluk commander raked back on his spurs and with a majestic sweep of his hand he set the charge rolling.
Our initial fears were dispelled by ourcommanders words and we all streamed from the spear wall. We tore at the pockets of the dead, taking whatever wecould carry. Something didn’t seem right, however, and in our jubilation and pre-occupation in the disorganised looting didn’t notice the dark figures of the Mamluk cavalry appear on the horizon until it was too late.
The Mamluk commander kicked harder at his spurs and his horse, a gift from the Sultan sped up ever so slightly and he drew his sabre, with its intricate carvings shone in the bright midday light. His companion was screaming “Allahu Akbar” repeatedly and the menacing war cry filled his fellow Mamluks with a deep pride and exultation for their work. They were doing god’s work.
It was like a vicious storm, the hooves of the horses crashed like thunder as they approached. Some of us who were still holding a weapon made feeble attempts at defence but it was too late, there was nothing to do. Our commander looked aghast at the massacre that was happening around him and began to feel sick in the stomach. His men were dying all because he made one Fatal Mistake.
