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Iceman
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« Reply #100 on: June 14, 2010, 11:05:32 PM » |
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Well, the good news is, you bloody lot don't have to get your boar-skin knickers in a twist anymore. Me and my boys are done in your stinking little hovel you call Raktam. I paid my guys for a week's good honest work, and that's what they've bloody given me. I'm proud of the lot of them. The pirate and the poisonous guy certainly won't be getting bloody paid, but I appreciate their enthusiasm. The wench wearing the crown probably isn't smart enough to have learned the bloody lesson we were here to teach her, but thirty of her subjects sure as bloody hell have. They've paid the price for her stupidity, I hope she thinks it's bloody worth it.
Of course, I couldn't pass up the chance to test my blade against the only one of you worth my time... [I have to admit though, that although I had it all ready, when I found him I wasn't sure I had the AP to finish him, so up until the actual kill is sort of paraphrased - I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me]
On the very eve of withdrawal, a mighty battle ensues...
Sympathetic Phil pushes the door open with the tip of his sword, and steps warily into the hut. The old warrior sat at the table looks up at him calmly, before standing and drawing his own blade.
Sympathetic Phil stands back slightly to allow Sofaking a clear space in the centre of the hut, his habitual arrogantly contemptuous sneer replaced by an odd expression of respect.
Sympathetic Phil touches the hilt of his sword to his chest, and drops into a fighter's crouch, blade held low. The old king adopts a peculiar, yet graceful, stance, his own weapon held high in a two-handed grip.
Sympathetic Phil watches his opponent’s eyes, waiting for any sign of an imminent assault. Sofaking regards him stoically, making no move to attack, his chest rising and faling steadily.
Sympathetic Phil rolls his eyes, and lunges suddenly, blade angling for the native’s exposed chest. Phil’s sword moves with the speed of a striking snake, but Sofaking’s whips down to turn it with a ringing crash.
Sympathetic Phil turns the lunge into a rolling dive, falling beneath the warrior’s flashing blade as it slices back across the space where Phil’s head was a moment earlier.
Sympathetic Phil rolls past Sofaking to one knee, lashing out with his own blade with a savage cut at the back of the native’s legs. Sofaking leaps high into the air with an acrobat’s grace, landing lightly.
Sympathetic Phil raises an eyebrow, then grunts and flies at Sofaking with a flurry of blows. The two opponents trade cuts and parries in a display of two very different, yet equally skilled fighting styles.
Sympathetic Phil curses loudly as a crimson stripe appears across his shoulder, and his blade dips slightly. Sofaking presses his advantage, and darts his sword into the opening.
Sympathetic Phil grins as his sword sweeps back up to block the king’s blade, the hilt locking tightly with the native’s. The two fighters stare into each other’s eyes, teeth gritted and muscles bunched.
Sympathetic Phil widens his eyes in respectful admiration for the old man’s strength, as he matches Phil in their silent struggle. Then Phil winks, and his lips twist in a rueful smirk.
Sympathetic Phil brings a knee slamming upwards into the fork of Sofaking’s legs. The old king’s face drains of colour, and he crumples to the floor.
Sympathetic Phil winces in sympathy, even as his sword tip comes to rest in the hollow of the prone native’s throat. He shakes his head. “YOU’RE A CANNY OLD BASTARD, THAT’S FOR SURE…”
Sympathetic Phil says "…BUT YOU’RE TOO BLOODY SOFT-HEARTED. I CAN SEE WHY YOU MADE A BLOODY GOOD KING, BUT YOU WOULDN’T LAST FIVE MINUTES A BLOODY MERCENARY, FIGHTING FAIR LIKE THAT."
Sympathetic Phil raises his sword, reversing it in his grip so that he holds it point-down in both hands. As his muscles tense, the fallen warrior sweeps a leg around Phil’s, and kicks out.
Sympathetic Phil twists as he falls, and even as Sofaking’s blade flashes towards him, he draws a long knife from his sleeve and slams it into the king’s chest.
You attack SofaKing with a knife for 2 damage. They die.
Sympathetic Phil rolls desperately away from the native warrior, but as he regains his feet he can see that the man is already dead, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and his limbs unnaturally still.
Sympathetic Phil stands, breathing heavily. He reaches down and recovers his knife and heavy sword, his eyes slightly wild as he sheathes them. Then he barks a laugh.
You say “BLOODY HELLFIRE, YOU NEARLY HAD ME THERE! AND YOU WITH CRUSHED STONES AND ALL. THAT’S BLOODY IMPRESSIVE, THAT IS.”
Sympathetic Phil purses his lips. “NOT BLOODY IMPRESSIVE ENOUGH, BUT HEY. THAT’S WHY I MAKE SO MUCH MONEY.”
Sympathetic Phil pats his jangling coin purse. "ANYWAY, YOU BEAR-HUMPING BASTARDS DON'T NEED TO GET YOURSELVES ALL WORKED UP ABOUTME AND MY BOYS NO MORE."
You say “WE'RE DONE HERE, SO YOU CAN GO BACK TO WALLOWING IN YOUR OWN FILTH AND EATING ROASTED BOARS TESTICLES AND ALL THAT OTHER OOGA-BOOGA STUFF.”
You say “I'D HOPE YOUR SO-CALLED QUEEN HAS LEARNED A VALUABLE BLOODY LESSON HERE, BUT THE STIFF-NECKED WENCH PROBABLY DOESN'T HAVE THE BRAINS FOR IT. STILL, ENOUGH OF YOUR PALS LEARNED IT FOR HER, EH?”
I think I heard your shaman kicking up a stink about something, too. You probably ought to go check on that. So congratulations, Raktam. You can crawl out from under your rocks, because the bad men have all bloody gone away. Be good, and perhaps they won't have to come back, eh?
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