I am a peasant, dressed in linen with maybe a bit of leather for protection. I haven't eaten well my entire life, been taught to fight or really want to be here. But on the battle field I stand with a makeshift farming implement waiting. A knight charges me. Mounted atop a mighty stallion, both Armour plated. The combined weight of more than ten men (around 1000 kg). He has been taught to fight his entire life and been well fed. He wears, steel plates for protection and swings a heavy, razor sharp sword. Thundering at 60 to 70 km/h towards us. Imagine the slaughter, how many of my kin would be hacked to pieces by this medieval tank.
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