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Senior Member
Array 
And so begins the duel of words Well, it seems the topic has been picked for us. Consider this my parry/riposte to space's below-the-belt attack upon the king.
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Sir Nękos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus
"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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Senior Member
Array
Upon leaving the local tavern, Nękos noticed storm clouds gathering near the horizon, but decided to make for home anyway. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance and the wind speed, and the storm was quickly upon him.
Sighting a barn a little ways down the road, he started that way, hoping to find shelter there until the storm passed. Before he got there, however, he saw a man, silhouetted in light from the door, mount and ride quickly towards him. Nękos recognized him as the local impersonator. It wasn't his fault that he looked like the king, so it only made sense for him to play up the part. Earlier that evening, Nękos had also seen the impersonator in character, hitting on a waitress at the tavern. She seemed to go for the act, and shortly thereafter, both had left. Nękos wondered if the evening had gone badly for the poor fellow, judging by his hasty retreat.
Arriving dripping at the barn, Nękos quietly pushed the door open, and was about to enter when he heard voices. Looking about, he spotted the girl from the tavern on a pile of hay in the corner, with space_cadet noticably close. Nękos remained silent and watched as space attempted to "console" her, reassuring her that the "king" would never harm her so long as he was around. Nękos was sure he'd heard laughter, however, as the impersonator had left. The situation quickly deteriorated.
The poor girl began looking more and more uncomfortable, and space_cadet wouldn't take no for an answer. He began moving closer to her, and tried to take her hands. She shook them loose, looking outright frightened, and an angry expression crossed space_cadet's face. He stiffened, seemed on the edge of crossing some boundary within himself.
Nękos loosened the dagger on his sash, followed by the sword on his back, then stepped quietly into the barn and cleared his throat. space_cadet whirled, red-faced, and the girl's eyes went wide.
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Sir Nękos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus
"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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Senior Member
Array
Your move, spacey. Make it a good one.
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Sir Nękos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus
"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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Senior Member
Array
You're a murderer, I'm a martyr. I think we could say I won this duel.
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Sir Nękos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus
"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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Senior Member
Array 
Yes, Swordsman , I believe you did.
...............The Arcon has spoken
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Senior Member
Array
Were this a bout, spacey, you just threw your blade away, kicked me in the nuts, and took a black card. I win.
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Sir Nękos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus
"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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I think I missed something here?
Geez, one night I don't check the board and look what happens!
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Old dogs CAN learn new tricks! Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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Senior Member
Array
Well, spacey and I got into something of a duel of words. His first attack was easily enough parried, with a clever riposte if I may be allowed a moment of arrogance. He chose not to parry and just gave me the point, then restarted with a vile, feeble attack which was also quickly parried. This riposte also resulted in a touch, and then he threw his weapon away and (were this duel a regular tournament bout) kicked me in the nads and took a black card. Duel's over, I guess.
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Sir Nękos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus
"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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Does this mean I don't have to fight him? After all, it was I who foolishly issued the challenge. Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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Mais oui, Cadet. Qu'est ce le jeu? Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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I thought perhaps you might be from an old French/Canuck family like me...considering your location.
So, you want me to pick the topic? Perhaps we should ask a third party to make it fair. Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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Would you care to pick a time period? Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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Setting, American Revolution.
[This message has been edited by ledgerto (edited 05-25-2001).] Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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Main characters:
One Son of Liberty
One young lady who wishes she could join them, but girls aren't allowed.
One really bad Red Coat.
Any minor characters that help develop the plot.
Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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OOPS, look at the time...gotta run.
To be continued. Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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"Rachel, get in here! Those boys are gettin' hungry. And get yar nose outta that crack in the wall afore they see you. What kinda young lady spies on the men when they'ra talkin' business?"
"Aw, Mom, they cannot see me. Besides, I wanna know what's goin' on out there."
"The less you know, the better. Them Red Coats ever find out what's goin' on out there and we'll all be hanged. Here now, take these mugs out to the men and be quick about it."
Why did Ma always have to be telling me to keep my nose out of things? Didn't she know there was more to life than this dull tavern?
The only thing of interest here was the meetings that took place in the darkest corner of the room.
There, several men from the village met on a regular basis to discuss the situation with the "Lobster Backs." It was always a somewhat clandestine affair, them coming in with their cloaks pulled up around their heads so no one coulds see who they were. I knew who they were though. I saw their faces when I served them their warm mugs of beer.
Last week I overheard them talking about what was happening up Boston-way. The Red Coats were putting the citizens out of their homes and moving themselves in. Just taking over everything. They said the king hadn't paid the soldiers so they were taking up all the paid work too. Then when some of the citizens protested by throwing snowballs, the Brits fired on them. They said it was a massacre.
If I ever meet a Red Coat, I know what I'll do. I'll run him through!
"RACHEL!"
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Old dogs CAN learn new tricks! Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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Senior Member
Array
Hey, this is getting pretty cool. How long can we keep a storyline going? It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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Meanwhile...
"Thomas, I need you to take a message to the good doctor in Concord. You must be as fast as possible. Take the dapple mare. Wait for his reply. You should be back by day's end."
"Is it about the meetings?"
"Don't ask questions. The less you know, the better. Just take this sealed letter and whatever you do, don't stop along the way. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
As he started to go, Thomas Boylston Adams took note that the winter sky was greying considerably. It was at least 20 miles from Marlborough to Concord. Hopeful that the snow would hold off until he rode the roundtrip, he drew his tricorn cap closer to his ears and pulled up his collar.
This business with the British was getting out of hand. The trips back and forth to Concord and Lexington were growing more frequent. Something big must be about to happen.
One consulation was that he had to ride past the tavern in Sudbury. That is where he had first seen her. She was dolling out boiled ham and brown bread to the men in a secluded corner of Longfellow's. She was plainly dressed, but her hair shown like the morning sun. Her smile, as she went about her work, was bright as a star. She was night and day all rolled into one. Just thinking about her gave him a feeling that made him blush.
As he approached Lonfellow's Tavern the wind bore down on him. It chilled him to the bone. Perhaps a short pause and a warm ale would sustain him for the rest of his journey. If he had any luck, he might also catch sight of her.
He turned the mare up the path and headed for the tavern. He took note that the hitching posts were quite full. He'd have to tether his horse to a nearby tree.
As he entered he scanned the room and searched for her. She stood stooped over at the wall-size fireplace toasting bread and cheese. A pot of beans bubbled lazily on a nearby spider. The closing of the heavy oak door behind him caught her attention. She smiled that bright smile of hers and quickly looked to stir the beans.
[This message has been edited by ledgerto (edited 05-28-2001).]
[This message has been edited by ledgerto (edited 05-28-2001).]
[This message has been edited by ledgerto (edited 05-28-2001).] Too soon the angel of death sweeps o're each one and leaves a cold dew upon the lips and in the heart. Live well, laugh much, love long, and die hard.
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