Gym bard unrelentingly plays ode to the king

>riding steed to the gymnasium
>not striding along for warm up
thou shall never make it

>walk into the gym
>VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS MENTES TUORUM VISITAAAAAA

>Minding mine own business at the monastery gymnasium
>tfw stalling on overhead press
>3 sets 5 reps Hail Mary's
>Cardio harlot starts stretching in front of me
>I can see her ankles
>Impure thoughts flood mine conscience
>Add 3 set 10 reps of self-flagellations to my workout
>Rosaries spill out of pockets
>Everyone jests at my expense

anyone know where this from

it looks cool

>tfw no maiden

>be me
>always dream of becoming knight
>whilst cleaning hay off the floor of stable catch princess glancing off the castle ramparts
>make eye contact
>yayverily.brand
>maiden smiles at me
>the king shall have my head for this but can't look away
>Sir Conrad the Bold grasps her from behind and they begin necking
>feel like I'll never make it
>mine face when
A-at least my falcon brought home fresh protein from the cliffs, right brethren?

>gains goblins follow you to your house and rape your daughter

How do l stop this from happening ?

errect a palisade of straw and salt aboutst thy daughter while away

KEK

>broke 4 log squat rec'rd this day

brethren, god has surely blessed thy muscles with the strength to make it. we art all going to maketh it

Brethren, this day whilst hoisting verily, a thought came uponst mine mind perchance.
If I am to supplement the scribe maiden's wages with a charitable bounty of mine own, how then shalt his majesty the King tax that which is not recorded as wages earned in truth by yon maiden?

> stride to gymnasium
> lose all str stats
> become skeleton have to serve necromancer

I want to know too

The reaping pull is deemed witchcraft by the orbe of vigor. Wishest thou to hear the alarum of monstrosities?

Mine own mother telleth me the protein from the cliffs is the cause of imabalanced humours in the liver and that no good may come of partaking. May a healer confirm as true or nay?

YE ATTACK THE WEIGHTED IRON WITH PERSEVERENCE WHILST CHADWICK RECKLESSLY DEVOURS POOR CUISINE AND DEFLOWERS ANSTASIA

Nice

>riding mine destrier to one of the hamlets in mine father's demesne
>remark something up ahead
>a wagon has halted on the road
>"Milord!" a man calls out
>"What is the matter, peasant?" I say as I bring mine steed to a halt
>"Art thou not sir user, son of the count?"
>"I am."
>"Thine father is a good man and a generous liege, may the Blessed Virgin bless his soul. I beg thine pardon for even asking this of thee, but the cartwheel of mine wagon has slipped out of its socket. Please, strike me not down for asking this, but would thou be kind enough to hoist the wagon slightly upwards, so that I might slide the wheel back to its rightful place?"
>"Certainly. It would be mine pleasure."
>"Oh, bless you, milord. I see you are man of great virtue, just like thine father."
>as I dismount mine horse, I notice the man has a young maiden with him
>"This is mine daughter, Marigold. Bow down before the high lord, you foolish wench."
>"Milord", the fair maiden says and attempts to do a curtsey
>she is veritably beautiful for a peasant girl
>I grab the carriage and begin pushing it upwards with all mine might
>the bloody wagon will not budge
>I give it an another attempt, but alas, it will not move at all
>just as I am suffering this disgrace, lo and behold: a man in fine clothing approaches the site on horseback
>"Sir user! What is thou attempting to achieve?" sir Chadrick asks with a self-indulgent visage
>"I am aiding this peasant, mine father's subject", I answer grudgingly
>"It seems thou are not succeeding", he says and dismounts his destrier
>Sir Chadrick grabs he wagon, pushes its side high in the air with ease, and the peasant swiftly places the cartwheel back
>"Bless you, kind sir. Who art thou?"
>"Sir Chadrick. May the Blessed virgin bless ye as well, but now I must carry on, for I am on my way to the feast."
>Sir Chadrick gallops away
>the peasant girl is close to swooning, and his father beholds after sir Chadrick with much reverence in his eyes
>mine face when

keked

>seeth beautiful maiden at rack of squats
>am enamored by her holy bottom
>she takes notice of my gaze
>her father burns me for heresy the next day

>Gym pope denounces the Saracens whom'st have constructed a heretical cross hoisting guild
>Glorious gym pontiff (holy father, praise his name) promises every able bodied man 1/2/3/4 lifts and a full suit of armor to partake in glorious bloodshed
>Verily, this pleases mine ears and I am off for the crusade

Wish me luck, mine brothers

>mine face when the Moors still exist

Heresy

>Proceed to jousting area
>RAINFALL
>WOODCART

Any of you fine gentlemen partaking in Tenderfoot Hoists? Is it better than a yeoman fraction 5x5?

>The emotion whilst this mortal vessel of mine is inadequate to obtain Blacksmith condition
Comfort me brethren

>tfw squiremode

Well put

> mine expression when a ponce enters the gym lacking in STATURE, COUNTENANCE, and BREADTH

kek

>be malnourished peasant hoisting since spring
>go to church
>see X/X margret in the second row
>those bosoms.parchment
>decide to sit in front of her
>casually glimps over my shoulder a few times
>she's clearly mirin
>for the love of our holy father she's staring past me
>she is staring at the depiction of jesus christ
>ogling his marvelous body which he has given for our sins
>visibly wetting her undergarments

fucking crossfiters man

Kek, ye still believe in thy humours?
Why doth the Earth give all Britons such fertile land if ye still look to foolish notions. user's protein doth be pure, but tis something he must cleanse with herbs to vanquish the spirits of the mount which conflict with spirits of thy kingdom.

Kek

Holy shit lmao

>PARTAKE OF HERBS IN THE ARMORY

>not eating a boar a day
peasant

LAYING WITH THINE DAMSEL, SHE A WHORE WHORE

Grade A thread

>that first goblet of the day

I chuckle heartily at the peasants who still refuse to consume Monster wine

>Partaking of the caffinated hebrew

>smith machine is out of coal

How am I supposed to forge new pl8s?

>chopping wood with an ax
>for it is most hot, I have removed mine shirt
>as I labor, my younger sister walks past me with her friend
>her friend is verily comely and has wide hips for childbearing
>"Good gracious, user. Thine body hast become so... sinewy", she says
>it seems like her visage reddens a tad
>"Thou must be indeed strong", she says
>"T-thou as well", I mutter
>the girls begin to laugh and they leave
>surely, we will all make it one day

This, one boar a day keeps the necros away.

Hoho!

My brethren, I have forsaken the cultivation of my mortal shell for the joys of dwelling in the mud with the peasants. Yay verrily, a peasant boy is me! I doth hear the talk on every tongue in town - that I have been possessed by lunacy or unwholesome spirits.

Nay, 'tis ye who art wrong! You call me jester and spit upon me, but I am a truly free man. I have escaped earthly desire, and in frolicking amongst the filth, I have transcended this earth, in an ironic fashion.

'Tis ye who are the plebs, I am the true King of this fair and bountiful land.

How does one ascend to a higher form of being? I've been OHP or the knightly press for 3 months and I can't seem to get up there

HIGHJACKING THIS THREAD IN THE NAME OF THE EMPORER, WE HIGH GOTHIC NOW KNAVES

what the fuck you guys do these kind of threads often?

Only when the cock crows thrice after a waxing moon.

>tfw you are the only muslim in the gym
>infidel wenches mirin and knights hatin

feels good man

>I can see her ankles

>posts a picture of a Sikh

fucking Burgers I swear

>it's leg day
>on my way to the hydraulic leg exterminator on the other side of the cathedral's gymnasium
>Blood Angel Marine is doing dead ascensions of the souls of the wicked
>3,000 lbs of compressed body parts on each side
>he keeps screaming in agony at each rep
>its so loud I can't even concentrate on my leg exterminations
Wtf, why are they always so loud? What's the point of screaming? I almost want to go directly to the Adeptus Administratum assistant at the front desk of the cathedral.

Your time is soon approaching, you heretical swine.

>1070 A.D.
>Mine one love mutually partners Ser Chaddington to the chamber.
>DastardlyHarlett.bayeuxtapestry
>Meander astyred, aet mine hoisting emporium
>Bid to undertake a nine-stone death-upraisal
>Recognize the extent to mine famin, hast as yet to reach mine macros.
>Lower vertebrae beginst to tremble
>SNAPPETH
>Contract disease of mine lower back
>Sittesdth'st in agony, striving to draw mine breaths
>Meanwhile, Ser Chaddington beds fair maidens, despite being ane lanklet
>Whisper'd under mine wheeze "hoist ye even?"
>I judge he did heared me.

>This isn't even realistic.

Also that's a sikh turban I think man...

Amerifat-education...

>Attempt cattle hoist
>Fail to maneuver the beast, courtyard maidens mock me
>I could hoist one bull for reps last moon, surely a gainsgoblin has not robbed me of strength?
>Go to witch doctor
>Tells me I have plague
>Waste away into DYEH skeleton before dying

Meanwhile fucking Sir Chadwick is cajoling with maidens and feasting on pies

>repeated use of elipses in writing
>defecating on user's jest
Hark, mine brethren, but I have identified a simpleton among us!
Surely thou are of Weak mind and lowly stature, and must fuck off back to thy hamlet of Reddit

>scribesd'th "dost ye even hoist?"
>not "hoist ye?"

Want ye to know how it is that I do know you to be a peasant?

>hoist ye

Stop talking like a Moor

kek tbqh nigga

>T-thou as well

One cannot fathom this mediocrity. Thou haveth goof

Aye for it is King Autism scribbling his message on the walls of Veeky Forums

>hoist ye even?

>a fair maiden hath turned me away
>exclaimeth "ye manlet, shoo shoo!"

You talk of gains goblins but you appreciate not your relative good fortune
>Performing mine weekly hoists of iron
>Suddenly a deep pain erupts in my arms
>I visit the apothecary of the gymnasium
>After an inspection he decrees my arm must be severed to prevent the humours within from migrating outwards
>Chaddeus and Bradworth enter smirking most insolently as they pin me down and hack my arm off

The icon is in relation to this story - it is the man Chaddeus (from the book of faces)

Underrated post

>The icon is in relation to this story - it is the man Chaddeus (from

You have caused great harm to my body; verily, mine sides hath made haste from their host

>day ehtetene of nay-spille-sede
>ride myn mule to see wicche byrning
>vicar doth lashe her and bynd her at ye steke
>see her teetes
>erect_pavilion.stainedglasswindow
>spille myn sede in secret
>feeleth bad man

The best one in the thread.

>Sir Chadrick

> t-thou as well.

My sides

>mine visage when the goblins of gaines have purloined mine sinew

Who shall go forth on thine spring viking with mé and ravage the lands of the southern Christ-fitters in the name of Gains father Odin?

>peasants wear Shrovetide tabards to the gymnasium

>sir Chadrick
keked

brothers, dost thou performe Deathheaves?

>surely not performing deathheaves
>achieving it
>thou hast to choose one

The sound of that seemeth devilish

How much thou mine sire hoist

>tfw Sir Hubert the Tall stole my bardiche

he stole your bardiche, you take his walls with a trebuche

Brethren, I seek your counsel.

Recently, I have began to consume the food mine lord giveth to the peasants harvesting in the fields. Aye, steel-cut oats.

Prithee, I pray you to continue your reading of my manuscript -- despite their lowly stature, I have found their bounty most fortuituous. Mine muscles swell with every feast, the meal placeth a bound like a winter hare in mine stride every morn.

Am I possessed by the motions of our lunar vessel, or has fortune blest me with a most wondurous discovery?

I await your response.

who better to craft a fine physique with which to tempt young maidens

hohohoho

>Partaking in the hoisting of heavy materials at the training grounds
>In the middle of my set of Monastic Marches when Sir Richeth Piano doth approach mine person
>y-yes Sir Richeth?
>He parlays with me for but a moment before asking to borrow some of my post training jerky
>'Why yes Sir Richet you may' I sayeth unto him
>As he removes his hand from mine jerky pouch I gaze upon him in utter disbelief
>ByDeus'Might.tapestry
>He hath procured not 1, nor 2 But 4 peices of MINE jerky
>prior to me being capable of voicing concern on my behalf
>he runs off, grabs the nearest hoisting stave and swings it over his head with such barbarity I feel as if he will cause utter destruction to the nearby squires pavilion.
>all the while shouting 'THIS WEIGHT BE OF NO CONSEQUENCE' with ALL 4 pieces of MINE jerky in his mouth
>mfw

>implying I even have a fief, never mind siege equipment
Being a knightlet is hell.

>year of our lord 1342
>lowly peasant
Cease this jest, lest I blast asunder mine sideplates

>Northern savages forsake aesthetics and letting of the breath for might
Behold, the powerfat. He whom'st've'ed subsist through robbing the larders of others is incapable of ascension.

Come brothers. Let us make like monks of the east, forge thine being so we may carry the crosses on which the pagans will hang. We must represent God well, for we are made in His image.

For that Huskarl, humanity is to his posterior

Seconded, verily.

A fourth of a good horseweight, or if you prefer, 65 pig feet

>Hark, a foolish knave wishes to challenge in a bout
>believes thyself to be of righteous strength simply for thine protruding abdominal muscles
>Milord hath given blessings with the fortitude of giants over 10 fortnights past
>I am unrivaled to the dew-beater, tis simply my heft illusory to the eye
>"Harketh user! I beg of thee do not engage in holy combat, for thine abdominal muscles protrude as the Great Beorg!"
>"Knave be carved by the very blade of Hercules, let thy wrath subside"
>lol wut
>mine voice does bellow in hearty laughter as mine wits doth concede the Great Beorgs to play no role in strength
>inform the knave to meet once the troop returns from whence ye came for thy evening supper
>the king's court hath gathered
>the knave takes off thine garb, exhibiting thine serpentine physique
>lol a fopdoodle indeed
>thy voice bellows once more as the court believes thee to be of ogrish strength
>The very waste of the body is beaten from thy body, however tis not for his abdominal muscles

>be me
>hoisting swine
>benchesforthewenches.tapestry
>maiden across the way performing lengthening rituals
>she spies me glancing through the reflection pool
>humours rush to mine face
>whispers to priest presiding over this fief
>Sir Chaddwick the Golden mounts his steed and rides toward me
>remember I left thine flour mill running at mine homestead
>jester points and laughs as I depart
>bard breaks into "dost thou even hoist" poem
>on the back of thine head, the gaze of all peasants rests
>thine feel when still a serf

top kek m'lord!