by Simon R. Green
Could be, you desire a modern day knight...
Description from the amazon:
John Taylor is a P.I. with a special talent for finding lost things in the dark and secret center of London known as the Nightside. He's also the reluctant owner of a very special-and dangerous-weapon.
Excalibur, the legendary sword.
To find out why he was chosen to wield it, John must consult the Last Defenders of Camelot, a group of knights who dwell in a place that some find more frightening than the Nightside.
London Proper.
It's been years since John's been back-and there are good reasons for that.
Open to all.
Offer ends: May 22, 2011
TO DO:
As you travel through the medieval countryside in Bruges with appointed knight, what are some sights-n-sounds you encounter on your journey?
AND, leave your email (if I don't already have it)
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Contest has ended - winner is here
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Riding through a beautiful grove of trees and enjoying the way the sunlight plays through the leaves.Suddenly there is a crash up ahead! Could it be zombies!!!
ReplyDeleteaimeelavalle@gmail.com
As my knight and I ride through the tall grasses at the top of the hill, we hear the clash of metal and the shouts of fighting, and looking down see a group of knights pitted against dark clad warriors...enemies to the crown?
ReplyDeletevshuler@comcast.net
Riding along the dirt path, the full moon lighting the way, each tree glows with the white moonlight. Up ahead a scuffle in the bushes causes us to stop, worried that someone is hurt. Before either of us can dismount our steeds an unearthly growl reaches our ears. The horses start to get skittish from fear. A large shadows starts making it's way from the bush, huge and powerful. We have no choice but to spur on our mounts for fear of being eaten.
ReplyDeleteMorganlafey86(st)aol(dot)com
As we gallop through the many fields of greenery of lovely Bruges, my knight stops his horse and gestures me to a particular tree. A figure is poised under it, yes, a sleeping form. A female dressed in fine garments rests under the shade of an oak. Too fine for such rural area. A runaway? A thief? We slowly approach her with the intent of questioning her origins...
ReplyDeletekah_cherub at hotmail dot com
As I charge down the sloping hills of Bruges, I hear the sound of weeping. Reining in, I look around and espy a small girl crouched by a brook. Dismounting, I walk over to her. "Why is it that you cry, little one?"
ReplyDeleteliedermadchen(at)hotmail(dot)com