Howling wind drove the bespectacled donkey back one, then two steps. He blinked, dumbfounded by the ferocity of the gale which had so suddenly set itself upon him. Gritting his prodigious teeth, he pressed on, his head low to the ground. He blinked away tears, his eyes irritated by the dust whipping at his face. The road, made dry and angry by the rain's neglect, avenged itself upon the the helpless donkey.
The donkey's driver, too, vented his rage on the poor creature. His brought a long riding crop down again and again upon the ass's ass. "Get movin' mother fucker!" He cried, "I got mother fuckin' eelskin, on this mother fuckin' wagon to deliver". The imposing black man urged his donkey forward, and having no other option, the animal obeyed. Further down the road, the low, squat form of a tavern beckoned. The donkey raised his head for a moment, peering through dirty glasses at the distant building, and with renewed vigor surged towards the promise of shelter. "God damned about time," Samuel L. Jackson declared, sitting back more comfortably in his seat, "thought you were just gonna leave us out in this shit... Hurry the fuck up chadz."
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Hay floated down from the loft above like elongated, dry, itchy, uncomfortably snowflakes--not doubt sent drifting by the storm which so easily penetrated the poorly constructed stables. Joe was, however, blind to his discomfort. He had eyes only for the beautiful form that lay beside him. The moon shone through cracks in the ceiling, causing his beloved to glow with an other worldly beauty. She rolled over then, causing the moonlight to play across her dazzling white coat. Large, intelligent eyes gazed into his, mischief written all over her long face. "What say you to a romp" she asked, turning to look through the wall in the direction of the tavern.
"MY LOVE!" Joe cried. He exploded to his feet and began gesticulating wildly, his genitalia and hands flopping about in a flurry of expertly coordinated movement. Still waving his hands about, he lept upon Champion Courser's now standing back. "WE WILL MAKE THEM RUE THE DAY THEY SO FUCKING STUIPDLY EXILED US TO THIS BARN!" he screamed.
The sudden commotion prompted a series of small explosions of hay from the adjactent stalls. Suave men and their horses stood, blinking away a paltry few hours of sleep. One of them, accompanied by a brilliant white courser, approached Joe "what the fuck are you screaming about?"
Joe poked him in the chest, causing the man's glittering scale armor to clink softly "Huey! Glorious leader! We cannot allow these foreigners, these peace loving cowards to disgrace us and our land like this". The man crossed his arms and seemed to be deep on contemplation. The other Cavalieres gathered around, in various states of undress. One, Edmond, suddenly screamed "DON'T PLAY WITH OUR LIVES!". The others stared, and Huey raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I don't know why that just happened..."
"Ok guys," Huey finally spoke, "I know I'm new at this but fuck it dudes..." He absent mindedly stroked the penis of the courser beside him, "lets go bow-"
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The tavern was packed with people of many ethnicities and loyalties. Beer flowed, and the wenches were many, though most idled about awkwardly, ignored by the men. One man suddenly leapt upon a table. He was covered head to toe in the thickest of armors, and clutched a polearm of masterful quality to his chest, as if afraid it might suddenly jump away. The man began gibbering away in some foreign language, eventually yelling at his audience. One serving wench whispered to her co-worker, "He is Russian." Her friend nodded, but did not seem to understand. "You do not seem to understand.... He is trying to convince them to all band together and attack somebody smaller and weaker than them". The other wench nodded, suddenly understanding, and resumed clearing the table next to her.
Samuel L. Jackson and chadz sat themselves next to the front door, both of them glad to be out of the tempest outside. Samuel L. Jackson peered at chadz face, which had taken on a sickly, pale complexion. "What?" His donkey seemed unable to reply, and stuttered something incomprehensible. Samuel L. Jackson lost his temper, "ENGLISH MOTHER FUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT?"
chadz's ears suddenly twitched, pointing directly at the door behind Samuel L. Jackson. He whispered, "They're coming".
A voice shouted something through the door, though it was hard to understand what was said. A serving wench approached, pressing her ear against it. The tavern went quiet. A muffled, "Open the gate!" was heard by all, before the doors abruptly exploded, knocking the wench into a large Polish man. A horde of naked men on horseback burst into the room, screaming about "carebears" and swinging sexual implements of all shapes and sizes.
There was chaos.
Samuel L. Jackson had time only to turn around in his seat before having his skull caved in by a twelve foot long iron dildo. chadz scrambled out of his seat, only to be jostled aside by a massive destrier as it rushed two men who gibbered something in Polish. chadz fell, his hooves unable to find a purchase on the wood floor now slippery with blood. A shadow fell upon him, and he looked up. Standing over him was a horribly ugly man upon and a large, white stallion. They were covered in blood, and in the man's right hand was a blood soaked lance. More terrifying was the way he stared at the poor donkey before him--his face was contorted by rage so that he seemed barely human. The donkey begged: "please, please just let me go. I am not one of these people! I'm like you!"
"I have told you time and time again that we were OP" the man said with forced calm. He raised his lance, "but you never fucking listened". Behind him, a man in scale armor kept saying "good fight" over and over again, emphasizing each utterance by banging a mail clad knight's face against the bar.
"What are you talk--"
"STFU!" the naked man barked. It came out as "s teh fu". His horse reared, and the man thrust his lance into chadz's face, shattering his spectacles. "NERF CAV!" He shouted triumphantly, holding his lance high over head.
Horse and man alike replied in kind: "NERF CAV!"
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You better fucking believe I wrote this. Give me my fucking looms.
