Thread: A Scout's tale
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Old November 10th, 2017, 04:12 AM
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Each combatant carefully took a weapon and examined it with a warrior’s appraisal. Each stepped back and took practice strokes, dazzling the audience with another flurry of maneuvers that flashed and glinted in the noon day sun, then once again re-appraised their blades. The official shouted something and the small entourages that bore the weapons quickly withdrew as the official and his honor guard stepped forward once more. He called out while pointing to two spots in the tournament area.

The two combatants approached the designated spots, and stood with weapons held flat as if to present them to the official. The referee approached each fighter in turn, asking questions. The taller one to Aston’s right gave a quiet rudimentary response, but the slightly shorter and more winded warrior levelled his blade at the taller when approached. The official’s honor guard quickly levelled their polearms at the younger warrior. The referee was unmoved by the impassioned gesture, and held his ground as he watched the younger warrior spout something in the local dialect. His soliloquy was long and loud, and the young warrior finished his accusatory tirade that garbled the words to even the most fluent speaker of the language, though Aston could imagine what was being said. He didn’t know the entire context of the fight, but there was enough blood and venom to give the gist that one of the two had been slighted, probably the more tired of the two, though Aston couldn’t be sure.

The official quietly ordered the accuser to back off, but the young Aslan warrior didn’t move, daring the official. The official locked eyes with him, arms akimbo, then barked a single command. The young warrior hesitated, but obeyed with a snarl and roar. The official then turned to the tall quiet combatant, and asked the same thing. The response was inaudible and seemed to underscore a larger point. Again, what it was Aston could only guess.

The official stepped back to the middle of the tournament area, then called his honor guard back to his side. He then stepped forward and looked at the crowd with a cool gaze. Again, Aston was tempted to tap into his computer to get a translation, but felt the raw experience was worth forgoing the technological aid. Even if he had a translation he was sure that he wouldn’t have been able to get the full story. Besides, one grudge match was like another. Someone felt wounded, another denied it, meaning one of them was lying, and the only way to settle honor was death or severe injury.

The official delivered a brief speech to the crowd, then stopped. Tails flicked, the hushed murmur quieted down during the soliloquy, after which only the wind flapping of the flags ringing the stadium could be heard. The official shouted a question to the crowd, but no one answered. Aston looked left and right to see the crowd reaction, but all eyes were fixed on the official. Still no one spoke.
Sir Ghost, Knight of Imperial occupied Terra, Sol.
Travels with Blue Ghost; musings of a knight of the Imperium.

Last edited by Blue Ghost; December 20th, 2017 at 01:16 AM.. Reason: Rewrite 2
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