[RP] A Question Was Asked

[Ankalagon_ 258]

Count Aragon Silversteed was sitting in the tavern of Arbor, sharing drinks with several men of the Guard and Knights of Arbor. A strange shout was heard outside the city walls. Cato Darius Godwin aff Morr shouted a                petty comment along the lines of, "this Arbor?! Looks like ****!" The rest of the ranting boy's words were muffled as the Knights in the hall immediately began laughing, ale aiding the volume of their bellows. Aragon could not help but crack a smile, as the laughter subsides Ser Aragon shouts "fight me!" More laughter erupted, but Aragon stood and it quickly faded and transitioned to boisterous comments from his brothers in arms. Aragon leaned over to grasp the scabbard of his longsword. He lifts his wooden mug filled with ale, finishing of the drink. He takes his leave, tossing the mug over his shoulder to the sound of more laughter. He walks out of the city gates to find Cato standing there. Scruffy looking, the man looked as if he was ready to shout another snub comment, but he stops. As the two exchange quick words, a boy of soldier joins Cato's side, followed soon by Lonan and two other Rievers. Aragon looked behind him to find many more Knights and Black Guard of Arbor standing by, the playing field was even. Aragon looked towards Cato and shouted."Are you a coward? Will you not face me in single combat? Once I best you I will deal with the rievers whom you seem to be in cahoots with. Truly are you too scared to fight me alone?" Cato didn't respond, he merely took an uneasy step back, and drew his sword. Cato's side all drew their blades, and the sound of scraping scabbards filled the area. It was clear the Cato was too afraid to face Aragon in single combat, so instead he would hide behind bandits and scum of Atlas. Aragon sighed disappointingly. He looked over his shoulder to the soldiers of Arbor that stood with him. Aragon lowered the visor of his salet, drew his sword and asked the question. "Shall we begin?"

 

 

         It wasn't a fair fight. Though both sides were even in number, it was clear that skill was in favor of Aragon and the Arborian Guard. It was almost over as quickly as it began. Every Arborian stood victorious. The Rievers           all lay dead at their feet, despite their best efforts and all their unhonorable fighting ways, the Rievers were easily cut through like a hot knife through butter. Cato lay bleeding out on the ground, his side had been gashed wide open by Ser Orym's blade. Aragon stepped forward, looking into Cato's eyes. A coward, is all he saw. Afraid to fight on his own, and hiding behind bandits. Aragon said nothing as he sheathed his blade. He motioned to Ser Orym. As Ser Orym approached Cato's eyes grew wide in fear, desperate air filling his lungs. Before Cato could cry out like the donkey he was, Ser Orym stabbed him through the heart with his blade. And thus the day was won.

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[Thornz 549]

“Ah yes, one of the few times this pitiful barony can boast; When they outnumber their opposing force five to one.” 

[Blutige_Blume 4]

+1

[Cya 440]

*Lonan sits there pondering every time he and his fellow reivers beat down Avalon in multiple occasions

Spoiler

 

 

[Pancakehz 2279]

Daquan does jumping jacks

[R3D7uP 29]

Elion Tyranor would return from his trip to The Mother Grove and sigh because he missed the sweet mineman clicks.

[gamer124 339]

"very cool - and epic!" says rob denhardt

[Callistus 988]

The casual laughter of the noble, Aragon Silversteed, died fast, guillotined from his mouth. The sharp steel end strapped to the sellsword's baldric had hooked into his neck and pulled out his carotid, ripping it in two. 

 

Droplets of blood fell to the earth and created a stark path, marking the crossed road all the way to Olgierd's set destination; Arbor.

It was unnerving to see the eyes of the mercenary glaring from within the black hood obscuring his visage from accidental onlookers. His gaze was one bereft of passion, devoid of conscience. In a subliminal gesture of disgust, his nose wrinkled. His filthy grip latched unto the decaying head to relieve it of the sickle it dangled from and, with an indifferent expression throughout the ordeal, it was flung before the gates of Arbor.

 

There laid an expressionless male head who rested on a pool of mild cerise substance, which stunned the living daylights out of each being who stood there. He was grotesque. Already, Aragon's eyes were swollen over and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws. He was now as revolting as he should be, finally the outside reflects the man within. It served as a grim reminder to the inhabitants of Arbor who so foolishly sought a conflict, who heedlessly bit off more than they could chew.

 

"Some day," muttered the Black Reiter as he strolled off. "When songs are written about this, you'll be mentioned as a stain on our swords."
 

[Arhbi 181]

If the young boy of fifteen years had survived the duel, he would recall that Aragon was the first to die, and that it were he who acted as a coward.

[Burnsy 437]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.