The Amazing and pitiful story of the White Knight
Posted: Fri Jun 05, 2015 8:56 am
Once upon a time, in a land troubled by ruthless warfare between two contending realms, a noble knight in shining armour rose among the ranks of the Empire Host and performed astounding feats of prowess and wonder.....
I, noble lords, was a humble witness of the White Knight's achievements.... I was at the time (two nights ago) a recreant warrior of the accursed Dark Elves army (may Khaine guard me, His devoted Disciple). In the hallowed strands of Nordenwatch the battle was raging and the hordes of Greenskins, Chaos minions and my own kin were ravaging the Order's disorderly ranks. Suddenly, as the blazing sun rising like a blinding blaze over the world at daybreak, although the night was closing rapidly over our heads, a corageous Knight surged breaking through our vanguard and sped ahead running like mad towards the beach while he yelled "FOR SIGMAR". I was filled with wonderment and admiration for our brave foe, and forsaking the battle I followed him thinking of measuring my strength against his in single combat. A Chosen recruit with his starting garments also started to chase the shining hero. However, no matter how hard we tried to catch up with our valiant foe, it was to no avail, as we Disciples and Tanks have no magic boost to our footspeed, and I possessed no trusty stallion to pursue the White Knight. Eventually we managed to connect our throwing weapons and Fist of Khaine to the point where the White Knight's health ebbed and failed to the point of near death. At this point, the running Knight performed a most amazing feat of magic, which Merlin himself could have envied: pronouncing the arcane words ABRACADABRA (hocus pocus in the language of Albion) he DISAPPEARED as if he had vanished from thin air.
My heart sunk. Robbed of the sacred pleasure of combat, I retraced my steps to my comrades, sadly reflecting on the fickleness of this wretched world, where one can be deceived by appearances and then darkly enlightened by sorcery. I thought I had found a true hero, my heart had swelled with pride and thrill, only to find that my hero was a craven trickster.
the Knight's name was Whitey. Anyone who has read "The Four Feathers" will remember that a man who acted cowardly in battle was sent a white feather by his 4 best friends. Also in Shakespeare, "A Heart So White" means a heart so cowardly. Very appropriate, Whitey.
I, noble lords, was a humble witness of the White Knight's achievements.... I was at the time (two nights ago) a recreant warrior of the accursed Dark Elves army (may Khaine guard me, His devoted Disciple). In the hallowed strands of Nordenwatch the battle was raging and the hordes of Greenskins, Chaos minions and my own kin were ravaging the Order's disorderly ranks. Suddenly, as the blazing sun rising like a blinding blaze over the world at daybreak, although the night was closing rapidly over our heads, a corageous Knight surged breaking through our vanguard and sped ahead running like mad towards the beach while he yelled "FOR SIGMAR". I was filled with wonderment and admiration for our brave foe, and forsaking the battle I followed him thinking of measuring my strength against his in single combat. A Chosen recruit with his starting garments also started to chase the shining hero. However, no matter how hard we tried to catch up with our valiant foe, it was to no avail, as we Disciples and Tanks have no magic boost to our footspeed, and I possessed no trusty stallion to pursue the White Knight. Eventually we managed to connect our throwing weapons and Fist of Khaine to the point where the White Knight's health ebbed and failed to the point of near death. At this point, the running Knight performed a most amazing feat of magic, which Merlin himself could have envied: pronouncing the arcane words ABRACADABRA (hocus pocus in the language of Albion) he DISAPPEARED as if he had vanished from thin air.
My heart sunk. Robbed of the sacred pleasure of combat, I retraced my steps to my comrades, sadly reflecting on the fickleness of this wretched world, where one can be deceived by appearances and then darkly enlightened by sorcery. I thought I had found a true hero, my heart had swelled with pride and thrill, only to find that my hero was a craven trickster.
the Knight's name was Whitey. Anyone who has read "The Four Feathers" will remember that a man who acted cowardly in battle was sent a white feather by his 4 best friends. Also in Shakespeare, "A Heart So White" means a heart so cowardly. Very appropriate, Whitey.
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