Get your own Free HomepageThe decisive clash for Shrodus
Sire,
My name is Hagan and I am a refugee from the wasted town of Shrodus
who was witness to the clash of two armies that left thousands dead and
mutilated on the fields to the east of Shrodus. I have been sent
by our
remaining elders with information regarding the results of this fearsome
battle.
In an amazing upset, Arturus' armies have
been demoralized and are now running for cover, just as a jackrabbit wishing
to escape the stones of my sling hightails it to the nearest bolt hole
that is available to it whenever I hunt.
The battle began at 8:00 on a fine morning,
in a fog which immediately dissapated with the rising of the sun over the
low hills to the east, Stidolph the Calm of Anglia, along with Kerrick
Whitefoot taking the iniative. The sun being in the eyes of the simple-minded,
mother-fornicating, wart-on-the-arse-hole-of-humanity Britons, Stidolph
deployed in a line of battle a little more than 600 paces from his enemy
and when the fog lifted with the sun, I could see looks of amazement on
the troops of the Anglians.
Litwin Redeye meanwhile deployed on the north
perimeter of Shrodus facing a line of Briton (God curse their souls) spears,
the Briton calvary deployed to the south largely in such a
manner as to try to prevent Litwin from emerging from Shrodus.
The battle began with Litwin launching the
majority of his warriors out of Shrodus to attack Gawain. His losses
were heavy in the first two sorties, and then at 8:45, BOTH Siam and Peredurus
arrived at the field, coming from the southwest and south.
It was a heart sinking sight for the Anglians.
I and other refugees were hiding in the woods to the northeast of Shrodus
with a clear view of everything, and my heart quailed in fear at the sight
of all those warriors. They did not come fast, however, smug in their
assumption of a quick and easy kill, and appeared to be pacing themselves
as though they were out for a stroll on a warm and sunny spring morning.
But that was their mistake. All was done
before they were able to come into play, so they judiciously retreated,
slinking away like the curs that they are.
What I did not take into account, being young
and untried as yet at the arts of war, was the deployment of the forces
of the brave, if misguided, Galahad.
We can only surmise that Galahdad, fresh from
his latest quest, foolishly interpreted the fact that he had retrieved
the lost Grail as a sign from God that all he did would be accomplished
gloriously and easily. He therefore deployed mere spearmen against
the ferocious warbands of Stidolph, which accounted for the amazed looks
upon the
Anglians.
It became clear to him shortly after the two
armies met just how rash he had been. I will never forget the sight
of him sitting astride his charger with the sun gleaming in his golden
head, slumped in dejection, his sword hanging loosely at his side, his
chin on his chest.
Ignoring Siam and Peredurus far to the south,
Stidoph held true to his name and launched his men into the Britons, soon
turning them into a confused melee of screaming and frightened "warriors".
Litwin was not
holding onto the town of Shrodus and was soon routed. He and
his remaining forces began to flee.
Kerrick and Stidolph bravely fought on, the
men rallying forward despite their apparent loss of Litwin. It must
be true just how popular and loved is Stidolph, for his valiant efforts
soon paid off and, to put it succinctly, the remaining Britons realized
shortly that unless they left soon they would become more logs to fuel
the pyres of the dead at nightfall and rapidly scattered. When last
I saw them, a number were headed for the dark country behind Shrodus and
an equal number were headed for the low countries to the southwest.
I left at the high of the sun bearing this urgent news to you as Stidolph
and Kerrick were directing the men to dispatch those Anglians souls who
could not be saved by the medics as well as any Britons lying on the field,
regardless of their physical condition.
The crying of the wounded and dying will haunt
my sleept until the day comes that I will rise to face the sun no longer.
I am unsure of what is to become of the great
stature Litwin holds with the Anglian peoples. When last I saw him,
he was standing quietly to the south of Shrodus oberserving as Stidolph
was being hoisted onto the shoulder of some of his men, with others dancing
in circles around him singing his praises, and still others joyously building
hundreds of pyramids with all the spears of the Britons scattered about
the ground.
That is all there is to tell - a momentous day for Anglia and a joyous day for Shrodus. We doubt we will ever again have to cower at the feet of those over-bearing and pretentious Britons. God is, indeed, wise and merciful.
Hagan,
of Shrodus.
Editorial Note: Any allegations that Hagan originated from Troneck are,
of course, entirely indisputable.
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