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BattleMaster => Roleplaying => Topic started by: Marlboro on October 03, 2013, 10:43:44 PM
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Anticipating another success in the upcoming election as he went uncontested, General Red was working on his drinkmanship. At his camp were many scattered bottles, though his pikemen remained stone-sober and stalwart as ever. In his command tent, he was just polishing off a keg of Vore's finest mead when a messenger came in.
"M'lord!" the boy proclaimed, kneeling before the massive, drunken knight. "Firbalt has surrendered to Spearhold! The assault will have to be called off!" Silence filled the tent, then. Stifling in a way. And then, suddenly, a tremendous sound ripped it assunder. "AAAAAAAAH!" the big man roared. "M'lord..." the messenger began. "AAAAAAAAAH!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" A mailed fist clove the table in front of him in twain. "AAAAAAAAH!" He stood up, and seemed to calmly sweep up his seat, proceeding to hurl it through the canvas wall of his tent. "AAAAAAAAH!"
"...We can still invade Nothoi if you like..." The messenger boy was grasping at straws, far out of his league in dealing with the metal-clad menace. "AAAAAH?" Red seemed to ask, turning on him.
The boy took the pause as an opportunity to run as fast and as far as he could before his legs gave out.