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Apr

9th

2013

The Duel · 11:47am Apr 9th, 2013

When you get really good at fighting, you tend to use very, very boring moves that still happen to be very, very lethal. Lord Baron Bennont reflected upon this as his opponent, a dirty, scarred sellsword, stepped forwards in a curt motion and very nearly landed a hit.

When Lady Duchess Buxonbery had told him that the tattered commoner was to be her champion in the duel, he quite nearly had a fit. The very idea of some lowborn pigdog striking him was not only insulting, but was also utterly preposterous.

A wide flurry made the nobles sword dance like silver, before he dived forwards again, streching out his body and sending his epee forwards like a lance. It was only a few minutes later that he woke up in his bed with a broken nose.

Sitting on his bed was the sellsword. "Yuh brrk muh nushe," slurred Bennont.

The sellsword leaned in, "When you've been alive long as I have," he said, "You don't play dirty, you do things that make dirty look good."

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