The Battle of Hastings.

[knight of virtue and valor]

The man is taken to the Duke, with an appropriate translator. Richard seemed interested in who was the (mildly drunk) norseman.



I did the same as you... not more not less... Said Richard. You might be the Hound, Slayor of Men that one day will be a rotting corpse... but you also made history today... and I will give you land because of it, and a title to call your own. Your descendants will do well to remember your name, for you will be the first of them to own land in England.

Sandor Grins "A Hound Gets a bone? and one he can pass to his pups? Well, I did Kill men today for something, it would seem. well, that is a surprise. Well, Duke, or King, or Your Majesty or Richard or whatever you please, I will repay this debt with My loyalty, and the heads of your enemies."

[Dark Storm]

If you so wish, you may help the night watch keep the camp protected. But know that you are not obligated to do so... You have faught much already. Said Richard.

"I would be honoured to help, obligation or not." William bowed before setting off to aid the watch...

[Bjorn]

Sandor Grins "A Hound Gets a bone? and one he can pass to his pups? Well, I did Kill men today for something, it would seem. well, that is a surprise. Well, Duke, or King, or Your Majesty or Richard or whatever you please, I will repay this debt with My loyalty, and the heads of your enemies."

Any of the four work for me. Said Richard to the titles. And that is all I ask of, your loyalty and strength. We shall go to London tomorrow and there I will divide the lands of England.

[knight of virtue and valor]

Sandor Grins "I'll drink to that" and takes a draught of ale

[Agamemnon]

I do not doubt that. Said Richard with a smile. Now sit down and drink a bit! You've fought enough for the day.

Thank you, Your Majesty. Now, if it please you, I'd like to tell a bit more about my life. Though, this translator looks tired, it may be better to drink and resume on the morrow. Do you know of any who could teach me English? I can usually figure out written English, but spoken is beyond me.

[Bjorn]

Thank you, Your Majesty. Now, if it please you, I'd like to tell a bit more about my life. Though, this translator looks tired, it may be better to drink and resume on the morrow. Do you know of any who could teach me English? I can usually figure out written English, but spoken is beyond me.

There are many who do business with the norsemen, this man himself He said of the translator Could teach you if you need so. And I'd be glad to hear your story. By the morrow we'll be moving to London though, if you don't care of telling me in the way it will be fine.

[Agamemnon]

Thank you my liege, if possible I'd like to take some lessons from this translator. And tomorrow, after the translator rests or finds a replacement, we can talk on the way to London, if you please. Of course, you likely have more important things to do, but I would love to sit down and chat with you eventually.

[Bjorn]

Thank you my liege, if possible I'd like to take some lessons from this translator. And tomorrow, after the translator rests or finds a replacement, we can talk on the way to London, if you please. Of course, you likely have more important things to do, but I would love to sit down and chat with you eventually.

Feel free to see me when you feel disposed. If I am not occupied with another matter I will gladly hear you out. Said Richard. Now sit and drink a bit, the day was long and we all deserve some good rest.

[Agamemnon]

I shall. May God save Normandy and the true King of England!

Harald toasts and swigs his beer contentedly.

[Mythre]

Marsh gathered his men after the battle and approached the campsite.

[Bjorn]

Marsh gathered his men after the battle and approached the campsite.

The Duke was with the soldiers of normandy, resting and having of some food.

[Mythre]

The Duke was with the soldiers of normandy, resting and having of some food.

Marsh ate hungrily along with his men. They would ride upon the first light... to bring Glory to Normandy and House Marsh.

[Narf]

Whitmore attended at the "feast", wounded and tired. but he managed to enjoy it nonetheless.

[Stildawn]

OOC: Well this was over before it began lol...

Warrick together with his son attended to their wounded... Though they had been in the thick of the fray his men all survived, though a few had gastly cuts... Martel hoped that they would live the week... His son Christain was a talented man with wounds... Unlike his father who only had a mind for numbers...

[Kip]

Sylvain limped into the Norman camp, favoring his right leg. His day had been long and exhausting - and it reminded him far more of his days in the distillery than the adventures he imagined while heaving the contents of his stomach overboard during the journey to England.

The day's victory belonged to the horseman. Sylvain had watched in utter admiration as the knights of Normandy streamed forth and broke the Saxon shieldwall, over and over, with the glittering of blades and the thundering of hooves. He longed to be amongst them, astride a loyal mount of his own. Instead, he had spent most of the battle amongst a company of mercenaries, standing idly but ever ready. The furious charge of the footmen was never to come though, and the only action he saw on the day was a scattered and disorganized rush forward when the Saxon line finally melted away. The only combat he even witnessed was a brief exchange of blows with a fleeing Saxon levy, who managed to escape when a dying huscarl, bleeding in the grass, had cracked his shield against Sylvain's shin in one last act of revenge before he slipped away into death.

After the battle, he had spent the rest of the day digging shallow graves and rolling Saxon corpses unceremoniously into the pits.

Sylvain dropped his gear and sank onto a mat, nursing his sore leg. His pride was hurt, and his conscience was tarnished. Hastings may have been a glorious victory for Richard, but he had not found any of the glory he so desperately sought there.

[Carl von Döbeln]

Bertrand was sitting in the mud, his loyal destrier slain. He was panting, for the moment content to stand and watch the misery and death that surrounded him. Even his nearly inexhaustible reservoirs of energy were depleted, he had pushed himself far beyond a middle aged man's breaking point. He closed his hands in prayer, and eventually began to aid the wounded, and treat their wounds...

[Captain Blackadder]

RICHARD (remember the name lolol ) gave his half brother a bear hug. Warrior priest! Come sit with me and let us talk, brother.

Good day Richard my brother. Today is indeed a good day. The Saxons are routed that pretender is dead. What are we to do now?

[Raglan]

ooc can i say how much i hate it when stuff happens while i'm asleep!

ic; Giles finished seeing to his men. Calling many who had answered his call to arms by name knighting a few who had shown courage and generally seeing to his men. As the night nears its end, he finishes, and makes his way to Richard, seeking a seat by the fire and an ale to drink. God his blood is up. Its a shame there are no camp followers his thinks, a good girl is exactly what he wants right now.

[Mors Vigilia]

A tidal wave of Norman swords, axes, shields and chainmail clashed with the remnants of the Saxon army and washed over it, like a flooded stream sweeping over stones...Ivo launched himself from his horse like a thunderous, middle-aged and slightly over-weight missile, bowling over several saxons in one hit...The Count de Tallibois bellowed like a madman and swung 'Devil's Prick' in circles around his head, slashing at throats and faces and sending noses, ears, clumps of hair and arcs of blood into the air all around him...

As a screaming Saxon Jarl charged towards him, bearded axe held high above his head, Ivo thrust Devil's Prick into the man's unarmoured groin, the blade entering through the mans testes and exiting via his lower-back...unable to remove the blade with speed before the next assailant was upon him, Ivo delivered a bone crunching boot to the mans groin, and taking off his helmet began using it as a bludgeon...Ivo pulverised the man's head with his helmet until all that was left above his neck was pulped gore and oozing grey jelly...

ooc: timewarpy

And Richard rode too. Light upon his saddle he slashed left and right as the red mist descended and the beast roared. Many fighting men knew the beast, to them he was left to be shackled in a dark corner until death neared the door. This was not so for Richard, he had learnt to embrace the beast and charge alongside it, for he was the Dragon of Rouen and no lone beast would overpower him.

The first charge smashed through the quavering enemy ranks and broke through. By the time Richard and his men were ready for another charge the battle had been won, yet the beast had yet been satiated. The fleeing English soon learnt of the beast then. As heads and limbs went soaring through the routed masses, the English learnt to fear that which was the beast.

[Double A]

Algernon rode into the camp, bruised, battered, and bloody. His flail, Big Medicine, hung by his side, with a few chunks of flesh and skin still firmly attached, while his horse had a long but shallow gash on its left flank and his shield was long gone. Nearly half of his knights, some of which he'd been with since Iberia, were dead, others green as grass. Still, the day had been won, the Normans victorious. England was as good as ours. He was looking to a long rest and a skin of wine, but first, he must find his duke - no, king - and check on his well-being.

After a few minutes of searching, he found Richard and dismounted, his men following suite. Bowing, he addressed the new king, too tired for his usual boisterousness. Sire, we have won. What would you have me do?