My liege, the Visigoth hordes have nearly surrounded us!
Dammit! I was just about to eat lunch! Bring me a mead and dispatch my archers.
We did that, my lord. But the enemy is overwhelming!
Nonsense. Use that flaming projectile thingy. Fling molten stuff at them. That oughta hurt.
Yes, lord, we are. But they still surge forward. They have no regard for the sanctity of human life, lord!
Well then, call in an air strike. See how they like that!
A what?
“I love the smell of. . . “ Nuke the bastards!
Nu. . ., my lord? I know not that word.
Never mind. I got that out of a book I found on the internet.
The. . . what?
Forget it. It's nothing you need to worry about for another 1000 years or so.