Hoist up ye pints, me laddies! You knock your horn against my wooden cup, and the ale splatters around. The wooden table, where we are sitting around, is rough and scratched. All the knife games have asked their toll of it. In one sip, we finish our drink, so we call Brunhilda. The busty redhead barmaiden arrives, and fills the horns back up to the edge. The warmth of the fire makes us feel dizzy, or is it just the beer? Suddenly, the candles flames are nearly blown out, as the cold night enters trough the opened door, where a cloaked stranger stands. Everybody looks at him. With a bold, barren voice, he holds up a roll of parchement and says: Jacques De Molay and David Eranosian, in name of the king, you are arrested for heresy and treason. We look for a minute at eache other, and then we kick our table on the soldiers running in the bar. The band starts playing a merry song, as our feet and blades turn to dancing with the enemies. A new melody of singing steel accompanies the fiddles and the whistles, and the wailing sounds of the guards sounds like a lamenting song. So we throw em out, under the laughter of all the drinking people. Pale, the cloaked knight tries to run away, but slips over a pool of beer. Dont be afraid, good sir knight, we will help you up, you say, as we grab the damn bastard and throw him outside, with the pigs. The piece has returned to the place, and we return to our seats. The table where we sat, is in pieces on the ground, but an old barrel is all we need to put our beers on. But those lay spilled on the floor, so we call Brunhilda. ~from Jacques De Molay, for my brother in arms, sir David Eranosian
Posted on: Wed, 15 Oct 2014 12:57:14 +0000
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