Guess what, Arnick got scolded by his Liege for giving cheek to the Realm's general and Ruler mhehe. Enjoy!A Prickly LetterArnick sat at a heavy oaken table arrayed at the edge of the Royal Training field in Partora. Here he had recently hired more Zweihanders, fine men of great physical strength and hard mentality. He liked that, cutting elf girls in two and then kill their lovers. Munching on bread and sausages he watched the recruits, men at arms and other well off warriors train and battle.
Taking a swig of the watered down wine he had poured, unceremoniously in a tankard he guffawed as a poor sod got his nose bashed in by a practice staff. Red wine streaming down his cheeks and chin as he ill attempted to contain his laughter. His bright eyes torn from the bloody spectacle towards a runner, a thin man who clearly feared the huge noble who was still dressed in training gear stained with sweat and a wee bit of blood of his opponents. His shaven head regarded the puny man and all but ripped from him the parchment the messenger was ordered to send him.
Reading it he ground his teeth, veins popped out on the side of his head and his tongue and lips worked soundless words. Blood rose to his face and the messenger unconsciously backed away from the table. ''Fking Bastard! I'll rip his throat out with my Teeth!'' Arnick bellowed as he slammed his fist clenching the parchment to the table. Making it leap slightly into the air as a response and garnering the attention of the men gathered 'round. A mean glance of Arnick silenced them ''Get back to your fighting, pig lovers!'' Arnick started to rise from his seat, descend again, fists clenching the table and nails digging into the wood.
Regaining a semblance of calm Arnick breathed out through his mouth and glared at the messenger ''Quill!'' the small man all but threw the feather and ink vial. The angry eye of Anrick finding him again.
Pulling out a long dagger Arnick scraped the letters from the parchment and started to write new ones.
Highborn of Perdan,
I appologise for my heated words to the General Hellfire. He is a great man.
I also apologise to the Queen Fiona whom I adore and think highly of. Her command will be my pleasure to carry out.
I will now make my way to Brive and slaughter the enemies of the Crown and if my men die I will ask for more gold to replace them.
Glory Sacrosanct,
Arnick Renodin
Knight of Eldoret
