"Hall of Remembrance" – (Hepta Mission Thread)
Feb 1, 2006 12:11:35 GMT
Post by macheath on Feb 1, 2006 12:11:35 GMT
With a thunderous clash Doug struck his opponent, but he felt his opponent's lance break on his helmet at the same time. Blast, he was behind in points already and it was not just his ego that hurt like hell. Doug saw the world spin for a few seconds, but as his sight returned to normal, he took a lance offered by one of the squires and galopped into the ring again. It was hard against hard , but after two more passes Doug had won the match. He had not unhorsed his opponent as Methos had done, but he supposed he hadn't done too badly for a first timer. Doug made a mental note to make a holodeck program out of the experience.
Several more matches were won and the grand finale was ever coming closer and closer. Would this be it? Their big chance to get to Nogura? Doug hoped Security and Engineering were preparing a way to beam him out of 14th century England, but first Methos and he had to lure Nogura to a secluded spot.
The moment was there, the grand finale, the moment Doug had been hoping for. There was one slight problem however. Methos and Doug had performed rather too well, resulting in a grand finale being fought between the two of them. Several considerations flashed through Doug's mind. For one, he couldn't fight too fiercely for fear of wounding a Cadet. Then again, he couldn't afford to lose the match because he would hate to be beaten by a Cadet. Dilemmas, dilemmas, dilemmas.
The trumpets called the contenders to the field. The burning sun was high in the sky and shone its light like a spotlight in a hollywood picture on the tournament field. The tension was rising............The announcer bellowed over the crowd:
In the left corner, wearing shiny silver armour............from Amsterdam, the Netherlands........SIR METHOS!!!!!
The crowd roared as Sir Methos entered the field. Over the roar of the crowd, the announcer continued:
And in the right corner, wearing pitch black armour.......all the way from Schotland.............SIR DOUGLAS OF FALKIRK!!!!!
Again there was a tremendous roar from the audience as Doug entered the arena. He could feel the adrenaline rush through him and it wasn't just the nerves.......he loved it! Trumpets sound again. The announcer announced that His Royal Highness Prince Edward would personally award the victor with 1000 pounds in prize money and that the winner would win eternal glory on the battle field. Doug saw Sam Nogura standing enthusiastically next to his lord.
The tension mounted as the arena became quiet................ The Black Prince raised his hand. The crowd sucked in their breath. Doug gripped his lance and saw Methos do the same. The very air seemed to vibrate the tension. It seemed like an eternity, but then, Prince Edward lowerd his arm and the arena blew up. Doug had never heard such a deafening roar. Everyone was on their feet, cheering the two knights on. Simultaneously, Doug and Methos kicked their horses who reared and then charged.
Doug felt every movement of his mighty war steed as he thundered towards Methos. He lowered his lance, while his opponent did the same. 25 metres, 15 metres, 5 metres BANG!
The two knights had struck each other in the chest, shattering their lances. Doug felt the impact knocking all the wind out of him. Over at the other side he saw his lance had had the same effect on the brave Cadet. Panting slightly, both knights returned to their respective corners and took a lance from their Marine squires. Again, the Black Prince signalled the attack and both knights raced towards each other, determined to win. It had become more than a tournament, more than a mission........ for the brief time of this tournament, it had become personal. They wouldn't win Nogura back, they would win eternal fame and glory.
BANG! The lances clashed against each other, shattering on the breast plates of the knights. it was a tie. The next charge would be decisive. Felling his heart pounding in his chest, Doug turned his steed and rode back towards his squires. He grabbed the lance and turned around, waiting for the signal. The crowd had become quiet again. They realized what was at stake. Tension vibrated in the air, it was murderous. Even the Black Prince seemed to succumb to it. This was it, the final charge. The arena exploded when the Black Prince lowered his arm. Both knights charged at full speed. The enormous war horses made the ground shake as they sped towards each other. The deafening roar of the crowd sped them on and gave the two knights the power to go on. Doug lowered his lance. Methos did the same. There were ever fewer metres separating the two. Just before the impact, Doug raised himself out of the saddle and thrust his lance forward with all his might, shouting "Faugh ah Ballaugh" The battle cry was an Irish one, meaning "clear the way" and clear the way it did. With a tremendous BANG! his lance impacted on Methos's helmet, knocking him almost off his horse..........Almost, but not quite. The crowd erupted in exhulting cheers, chanting "Douglas, Douglas, Douglas" through the arena. Doug felt exhausted and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, he saw that Methos's lance had struck him straight in the chest and some of it had got stuck in the armour. It hadn't pierced, but it hurt like hell. It was then that Doug realized just how good the Cadet had been and just how lucky he was to still be in the saddle. Had he not thrusted his lance forward to break it on Methos's helmet, he would have been knocked straight off his horse by the Cadet's fierce assault.
Minutes later, both champions lined up to be honoured by the Black Prince. Nogura stood right beside his souvereign and Methos saw his opportunity. "Commander Nogura, meet us at the three oaks at exactly 1900 hours". Doug saw comprehension dawning in the young Commander. Methos did it! He had made initial contact.
When they were finally free to go, Doug planted the prize money, horses and the equipment in the tent of the robbed knights, thereby settling the score. Returning towards the others, he came upon the bard who had forged the patents of nobility. The bard was composing something which looked like a poem.
"Whan that Aprill with his its shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour,
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(so priketh hem Nature in hir corages),
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke."
Doug bought the page from him and had it autographed. It would be a nice souvenir for Commander O'Connor, a fellow major in English literature.
When Doug reached the others, Methos had already explained that Nogura would meet them at the three oaks at 1900 hours. It was now up to Security and Engineering to boost the transporter signals so they could get him aboard the Hepta before anyone would notice he was gone. They hoped he would be willing to leave.
Several more matches were won and the grand finale was ever coming closer and closer. Would this be it? Their big chance to get to Nogura? Doug hoped Security and Engineering were preparing a way to beam him out of 14th century England, but first Methos and he had to lure Nogura to a secluded spot.
The moment was there, the grand finale, the moment Doug had been hoping for. There was one slight problem however. Methos and Doug had performed rather too well, resulting in a grand finale being fought between the two of them. Several considerations flashed through Doug's mind. For one, he couldn't fight too fiercely for fear of wounding a Cadet. Then again, he couldn't afford to lose the match because he would hate to be beaten by a Cadet. Dilemmas, dilemmas, dilemmas.
The trumpets called the contenders to the field. The burning sun was high in the sky and shone its light like a spotlight in a hollywood picture on the tournament field. The tension was rising............The announcer bellowed over the crowd:
In the left corner, wearing shiny silver armour............from Amsterdam, the Netherlands........SIR METHOS!!!!!
The crowd roared as Sir Methos entered the field. Over the roar of the crowd, the announcer continued:
And in the right corner, wearing pitch black armour.......all the way from Schotland.............SIR DOUGLAS OF FALKIRK!!!!!
Again there was a tremendous roar from the audience as Doug entered the arena. He could feel the adrenaline rush through him and it wasn't just the nerves.......he loved it! Trumpets sound again. The announcer announced that His Royal Highness Prince Edward would personally award the victor with 1000 pounds in prize money and that the winner would win eternal glory on the battle field. Doug saw Sam Nogura standing enthusiastically next to his lord.
The tension mounted as the arena became quiet................ The Black Prince raised his hand. The crowd sucked in their breath. Doug gripped his lance and saw Methos do the same. The very air seemed to vibrate the tension. It seemed like an eternity, but then, Prince Edward lowerd his arm and the arena blew up. Doug had never heard such a deafening roar. Everyone was on their feet, cheering the two knights on. Simultaneously, Doug and Methos kicked their horses who reared and then charged.
Doug felt every movement of his mighty war steed as he thundered towards Methos. He lowered his lance, while his opponent did the same. 25 metres, 15 metres, 5 metres BANG!
The two knights had struck each other in the chest, shattering their lances. Doug felt the impact knocking all the wind out of him. Over at the other side he saw his lance had had the same effect on the brave Cadet. Panting slightly, both knights returned to their respective corners and took a lance from their Marine squires. Again, the Black Prince signalled the attack and both knights raced towards each other, determined to win. It had become more than a tournament, more than a mission........ for the brief time of this tournament, it had become personal. They wouldn't win Nogura back, they would win eternal fame and glory.
BANG! The lances clashed against each other, shattering on the breast plates of the knights. it was a tie. The next charge would be decisive. Felling his heart pounding in his chest, Doug turned his steed and rode back towards his squires. He grabbed the lance and turned around, waiting for the signal. The crowd had become quiet again. They realized what was at stake. Tension vibrated in the air, it was murderous. Even the Black Prince seemed to succumb to it. This was it, the final charge. The arena exploded when the Black Prince lowered his arm. Both knights charged at full speed. The enormous war horses made the ground shake as they sped towards each other. The deafening roar of the crowd sped them on and gave the two knights the power to go on. Doug lowered his lance. Methos did the same. There were ever fewer metres separating the two. Just before the impact, Doug raised himself out of the saddle and thrust his lance forward with all his might, shouting "Faugh ah Ballaugh" The battle cry was an Irish one, meaning "clear the way" and clear the way it did. With a tremendous BANG! his lance impacted on Methos's helmet, knocking him almost off his horse..........Almost, but not quite. The crowd erupted in exhulting cheers, chanting "Douglas, Douglas, Douglas" through the arena. Doug felt exhausted and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, he saw that Methos's lance had struck him straight in the chest and some of it had got stuck in the armour. It hadn't pierced, but it hurt like hell. It was then that Doug realized just how good the Cadet had been and just how lucky he was to still be in the saddle. Had he not thrusted his lance forward to break it on Methos's helmet, he would have been knocked straight off his horse by the Cadet's fierce assault.
Minutes later, both champions lined up to be honoured by the Black Prince. Nogura stood right beside his souvereign and Methos saw his opportunity. "Commander Nogura, meet us at the three oaks at exactly 1900 hours". Doug saw comprehension dawning in the young Commander. Methos did it! He had made initial contact.
When they were finally free to go, Doug planted the prize money, horses and the equipment in the tent of the robbed knights, thereby settling the score. Returning towards the others, he came upon the bard who had forged the patents of nobility. The bard was composing something which looked like a poem.
"Whan that Aprill with his its shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour,
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(so priketh hem Nature in hir corages),
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke."
Doug bought the page from him and had it autographed. It would be a nice souvenir for Commander O'Connor, a fellow major in English literature.
When Doug reached the others, Methos had already explained that Nogura would meet them at the three oaks at 1900 hours. It was now up to Security and Engineering to boost the transporter signals so they could get him aboard the Hepta before anyone would notice he was gone. They hoped he would be willing to leave.
