A Recounting of a Highly Unusual Experience

[Man of Steel]

(Or, How I Was Kidnapped by Knights of the Table Round and Bound and Gagged and Made to Eat Grubs and Hard Biscuits.) Day I Here begins the somewhat lengthy and arguably truthful tale of my experience amongst the Knights of the Table Round. These events occurred one bright summer's afternoon, whilst I was vacationing in the English county of Warwickshire. I was taking a guided tour of the great and legendary Warwick Castle, much as was the narrator in Samuel Langhorne Clemens' A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court when he met the stranger with his own unusual tale. It so happens that as I passed a particular suit of armour, with a hole right though the breastplate, the guide commented on the fact that no one knew how that certain hole had come to be there. I, of course, made the comment that had to be made, regarding the book. Obviously having never read this book, the guide simply stared stupidly, and continued on with the tour. I was not to be deterred, however, and pressed the issue. This is how I came to be arrested. Apparently in England it is not considered lawful to break a man's nose over literary taste. Who would have known? It wasn't too long before I was taken to a cell, without even the modern conveniences such as television, nor even radio, and locked in with several other lawbreakers, most of whom stunk of inebriation. The filth was astounding, such as I had never before experienced. Had I the means, I would have escaped then and there, but to do so would have meant to attract attention of a most unwelcome nature. Thus I was forced to stay the night in that veritable hellhole of foul smells and fouler company. It was a trying experience, but upon the morn I was released, with nary an explanation nor apology, and put out upon the street without so much as an offer of coffee and a biscuit. Upon checking over my personal belongings, returned to me on my release, I discovered that not only was the last of my cash nowhere to be found, they had scratched the face of my new Timex as well. I was fit to be tied, but in no way willing to venture back into that place to argue. And so I went on my way, back to the motel I had lodged at the past night. My luck had not changed by the time I arrived there, however, all of the rooms had been booked, including the pantry, because I asked after it. Sitting on the door stoop, I pondered my next course of action. I had nowhere else to go, I knew no one in this part of the country, and had only come here to visit Warwick Castle, first and foremost to see the suit of armour that had caused the argument that had put me into lockup first off. With heavy head and heavier heart, I gathered myself and set off on foot along the River Avon toward the castle, which I could see from the hotel. What I figured to do, I do not know, but some thought must have propelled my heavy feet. It was just as I neared the castle that from my left, where there was a small stand of trees, whose type I knew not, never having been schooled in such things, came a thrown rock, which I had barely enough time to espy before it struck my temple and knocked me unconscious. When I came to the first thing that struck my notice was a strong light striking my eyelids. I raised my hand to ward it off, and spoke, begging for whatever sod that was shining a torch in my eyes to be off, that I was awake. My first thought was that I must have slept in a gutter someplace, but upon opening my weary lids I saw that this was not the case. nor was there any man or boy shining light into my eyes. Instead, I was in the middle of a large field, lying on my back. The sun was shining full on into my eyes, and must have been what had woken me. Perhaps I had been laying on my side and turned in my sleep where the sunlight would hit my face, i do not know. Wildflowers of several varieties and colours surrounded me, as did tall grass that grew from damp ground. Whether the ground was damp from the dew or from recent rain I could not tell. In any event, I gathered myself to rise to my feet, noticing in doing so that I was a mite dizzy, the field spun round and round about me as I stood, and nearly fell again not having any thing handy to touch for support. I had hardly time to reach up to my temple and feel the lump there, crusted over with dried blood, before I remembered the thrown rock by the river's side. But where was I now, then? I looked around, but saw nothing but rolling hills and green grass for what seemed miles. The air was clear and clean, nothing like it had been by the river, where smog from the cities had made its way into every available space and blotted out even the clouds sometimes. The occasional tree sprouted at well spaced intervals, most taller than six of me. Oaks, it came to my mind. I had heard the type somewhere, maybe. They were oaks, somehow I was sure of this. Just as I was somehow sure that I wasn't anywhere within easy walking distance of the hotel. A sudden epiphany came to me, and I glanced down at my watch on my left wrist. The hands were frozen. I tapped the face with my forefinger, and brought it my ear, but there was no sound. It was broken, just as I'd suspected. I was startled then by the sound of hooves hitting the ground. I turned, to see a man on horseback approaching from what I determined to be the east. He was decked out in armour, as was his giant of a horse, but it neither gleamed nor shone as it did in the castle displays. His was covered in dust, dirt, and accumulated grime from his travels, and the scraps of fabric that hung from his horse's saddle that had likely once been red were now faded to a shade of light pink. I would have laughed had I not been fearfully alarmed at the one object that did gleam, the long, broad sword that the knight held aloft in his right gauntlet. There was nowhere for me to flee to, nothing nearby to take cover behind. I was surely doomed. So I instead knelt, bowing my head to the rapidly closing knight, hoping he would take it as a sign of goodwill. It must have served its purpose, for instead of slaying me on the spot, he instead reined in his mount not a yard from my feet, gazed at me through his slitted helm, and did not move a muscle. I stuttered out a greeting, though I do not now remember the exact words which I spake. It did not seem to meet the knight's approval, as before I could utter another word, he had reached down and clubbed me with the butt of his sword, this time on the opposite temple from my previous injury. My luck, or rather lack thereof, was holding true.

[Sornaensis]

Sorry, but this does not meet the requirements of senseless banter as it: - Is legible - Is long - Has no sexual or profane references - Is not a game - Makes sense

[Man of Steel]

Oh, right. Thanks, I think. I meant to post this in the Artist's Corner, actually. Then I thought better of it when I realized that A) this would be an on-going story, and B) it's not much in the literary sense, as it's just an attempt at writing in the style of Mark Twain and is, in fact, a completely shameless rip-off of the aforementioned book. Also, I'll probably get more people to comment on it here. If a mod deems it needing of a move, though, go right ahead.

[Amethyst Star]

If I can post my "bored out of my mind" scraps in the Artist's Corner, you can post this here, too.