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Old 07-12-2005, 08:32 AM   #272
Regal Dwarven Shade
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Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: A Remote Dwarven Hold
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Kuruharan is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Kuruharan is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.

While this moderately nauseating scene was going on, Kuruharan sat on a rock in a recently acquired rusty suit of plate armor with a ridiculously oversized lance planted in the ground next to him.

“Kuruharan!” screamed Orogarn Two, “what are you doing? Get over here and help!”

“…mmm…wha,” said Kuruharan. “Oh, sorry. I was just reading this fascinating treatise on military tactics. It’s shown me the importance of engaging critical factors of the enemy’s supply system.”

“Will you just shut up and get over here!” screeched Vogonwë.

“Humph,” said Kuruharan, “how rude.” He placed his book on the ground. Embossed in gold letters on the cover of the tome could be discerned the name of one of history’s greatest military thinkers. The letters read Donkey Hoté.

Kuruharan picked up his lance and strode over to Chrysophylax. The dragon was saddled and bridled and consequently not in the best of moods.

“Shouldn’t I be flying through the sky spreading death and destruction amongst our enemies?” the dragon asked, trying to sound reasonable.

“Nonsense, my loyal steed,” replied Kuruharan cheerily. “That’s a waste of effort! All we have to do is surgically destroy their food reserves and the enemy will starve to death!”

“Might not the Gallowship all be dead by the time that happens?” asked Chrysophylax.

“Every plan has an element of risk,” said Kuruharan. His gaze swept the battlefield in search of his intended target. “Now, where are the enemy windmills?” he demanded.

*Clang* went the visor of his helmet as it crashed down on his nose.

“Wha…I don’t think the enemy brought any windmills,” said Chrysophylax.

“Preposterous,” snorted Kuruharan as he raised the visor. “If they don’t have any windmills how will they grind up their grain to make flour for bread?”

“I don’t think they brought any grain to make flour for bread,” answered the dragon.

“Ha,” said the dwarf. *Clang* “Ouch!!! This just goes to show that you know nothing about logistics. (Stupid visor!) Armies march on their stomach…”

“Actually, this army flew,” interrupted Chrysophylax.

“…therefore they have to have a supply of food,” continued Kuruharan, not even hearing. “Ergo, they have to bring grain. This means they have to grind it up. This means they must have brought windmills.” *Clang*

“Why can’t we all think like you,” said the dragon sarcastically.

“Because then everyone would be a genius!” answered Kuruharan. He lifted his visor and scanned the battlefield again. “There they are!!!” he cried.


“Right ther..*Clang*…OW!!”

“Uhhh,” said the dragon. “I don’t think those are windmills. Those are three great enemy Loyers.”

“There’s something wrong with your eyes,” snapped Kuruharan. “How else do you explain their size and those four great vanes that are spinning about?”

“Those aren’t vanes!!!” said the dragon. “Those are their two arms and the great shadows about each of them that look like vanes!!”

*Clang* “Ooof!!” Kuruharan muttered. “We can be glad that you are just the loyal steed and are not in charge of tactical decisions.” The dwarf climbed into the saddle and set his lance. “Heigh-ho Silver, AWAY!!!”

“Shouldn’t that be ‘Gold’,” said Chrysophylax. “Chrysos (or krysos) means…”

“Oh very well,” said Kuruharan. “Heigh-ho Gold, AWAY!!!”

Away the dragon shot!

“EEEEEKKKKK!!!” squealed Kuruharan as he fell out of the saddle. He held on to the stirrup and was dragged along the ground in a most undignified manner, flailing around with his lance.

*Whang* went the lance off the side off Chrysophylax’s head. The dragon staggered and started weaving from side to side in his charge. “Oooohhh, nooow I see. Maybe those are windmills after all.”

Alas, their heroism had not gone unnoticed. The three Loyers watched as this growing threat stumbled and staggered unsteadily toward them. As one they opened their mouths and let loose a terrible cry.


Unfortunately, at that moment Kuruharan’s lance plunged into the turf. Doubly unfortunately, this caused him to spring back into the air. Triply unfortunately, he still had hold of Chrysophylax’s stirrup. Quadruply unfortunately, this yanked Chrysophylax off balance and sent him sprawling.

The Loyers collapsed on the ground in convulsions of laughter.

Kuruharan was left trapped thirty feet in the air, clinging desperately to the lance.

“Would somebody like to give me a hand please?” said Kuruharan.

The Loyers were laughing so hard that tears were starting from their eyes and bursting into steam as they hit their faces. They could barely catch their breath.

The lancehead snapped off and Kuruharan began his descent to the earth.

“TIIIMMMMBEEEER!!!!” *splat*

The Loyers were writhing in delirium. They would have burst into laughter anew, but alas, they lacked the air…so they simply burst.

Thus it was that Kuruharan and Chrysophylax managed to kill three Loyers and live to tell the tale.

Last edited by Kuruharan; 07-21-2005 at 08:16 PM. Reason: I keep leaving out words
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