>> |
01/27/11(Thu)20:05 No.13683313>>13683295
"What's your name?" the brute asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Now, I must admit that Reginald Goldensteel, while a perfectly admirable name, was not my true name. The reasons for that are many, and are not, ah, worth delving into at this time. Even so, I wagered that since I was clearly outnumbered, it would be wise to give this savage and his group another false name, lest they get any strange ideas and try to use it against me. "My name is Morgan Rootwall."
"You must be new around here, Morgan, so let me give you the rundown." The brute spread his arms, as if to enwrap the whole of Dorod. "This is my town now. Whatever I say, goes. Whatever I do, it's none of your business." He pointed at the poor girl crumpled at my feet, who now pushed her face up from the earth, wiping blood from her marble skin. "And if you don't want to end up like her, you'll never, ever say anything about my SHOULDERS."
And his shoulders were indeed wide and freakishly large, like he was smuggling a longbow under his armor.
But that did not concern me. "Those are acceptable terms," I said, "but even so, I must insist that you cease striking this woman."
"Oh yeah?" The brute swaggered up to me, stepping over the girl and making a very obnoxious point to stick his face close to mine, where I could see all the nasty pores in his sun-scorched skin, smell his surprisingly refreshing breath. "And what're you gonna do if I don't?"
But a gentleman never backed away from such a confrontation, and I said, "If you refuse...I'll have no choice but to politely ask you AGAIN."
"He asked POLITELY?!" one of the soldiers cried out. "We don't have any notes about that, Sacim! What're we supposed to do?!" |