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18 June 1815. François-Antoine Fauveau, age 23 years.

Just in case you were thinking you've been having a bad day...

18 June 1815. François-Antoine Fauveau, age 23 years. Just in case you were thinking you've been having a bad day...

(post is archived)

[–] 1 pt

Good God. Direct hit. There was nothing left of that guy. Good thing his death was instant though. :(

[–] 0 pt

When the Almighty decides to call you home, like, right now.

And RNJesus is not with you, as you fail your saving throw catastrophically.

Guardian angel is like, "Dude! WTF! I looked away for, like, one minute!"

[–] 1 pt

With the angle of the round, He must have been horseback.

[–] 0 pt (edited )

I thought that. Given also that he was rich enough to have a cuirass in the first place, he may have been. Or he could have been on foot and caught a bouncer.

Worst part was probably that, given the size and relatively low velocities, he probably saw it in the last split second before impact. Maybe even instinctively started to try to lean back away from it.

"Well, fuck."

[–] 0 pt

Either way, that ball didn't slow down much.

[–] 0 pt (edited )

Which makes you wonder what happened to the guy behind him.

"Well, fuck."

Or the guys on either side of him.

"Hey! Where'd François go? I was just talking to him a second ago."

"Holy shit! Did you see that? That just fucking happened!"

[–] 0 pt

A guy with that nice of armor would be on horseback.

[–] 0 pt

'Tis but a scratch.