Russian Federation
1993
The white knight lowered his lance, spurring his mount into a spectacular charge. The deadly combination of man, steed, and burnished steel barreled forward, flashing in the light of the sun at high noon. Enemy soldiers scattered like chaff in a hurricane before the menace of his approach, even one of his own yielding lest he be crushed beneath the flailing hooves or sheer momentum of his approach. Suddenly the knight burst through the fray into open space, wheeling as he took stock of the situation before him.
A beautiful damsel in distress! He cantered to his lady's side, the horse blowing and rearing as he pledged undying fealty and admiration to her. On his honor, the knight would give no less than his life and that of his loyal destrier, if only to preserve the fair maid's honor and security. The haughty look on the lady's face softened for the knight, and she plucked a scarf from her sleeve to offer as a favor to the valiant hero, willing to ride to certain death in her service. The knight, learned in the ways of courtly love, lowered his lance enough for her to tie the token around its wickedly-sharp steel tip. He bowed low to his liege lady before whirling off to find an opponent.
There! A black knight, as villainous and debauched as he was noble and pure. The enemy sighted him at nearly the same moment, and pumped his own lance in the air in challenge. The knights charged one another, but even the favor of the white lady proved inadequate before the onslaught of the cruel knight in black. The white knight's body was dragged from the field to be dumped unceremoniously among the heaped remains of slaughtered soldiers on both sides. Meanwhile, the white lady seized the opportunity provided by her champion's fall to ride forth in a straight line to chasten the enemy king directly.
"I believe," said Northsidegal, "That that is checkmate."