Post by Tyber Sinclair on Feb 18, 2017 23:24:37 GMT -5
With the brawl in full swing, Tyber lost track of his initial opponent and instead sought out someone else to vent some aggression onto. And he did not have to wait long, for he stumbled one step to the side but kept his feet, and against his side he had some fellow's shoulder. So, it would appear someone tried to tackle him. The man looked up even as the burly knight looked down, and a look of unmitigated horror crossed his aggressors' face. A look that soon went blank when a large, furry fist came down and crashed against the back of his head and dropped him like a steer.
But that seemed to be a signal for more to try and take on the broad-shouldered knight who, against all likelihood, started to laugh as he stood his ground and delivered punches all around and tossing smaller men about. And then, he felt a presence behind him and he whirled around, his fist high ready to deliver another one of his powerful blows, but he checked himself for the man he would wreck was his own kinsman. Who, it would seem, needed to get some lessons in guarding himself in a brawl. And in enjoying the small joys in life like a good-natured fist-fight. "What? You're telling me you're not having fun?"
And then, he saw him, cowering under a table. That little shite who had decided to start insulting him and again the burly knight roared and made his way across the floor and one powerful hand flung the table off to the side, and then he picked up the offensive knave up by the front of his tunic and held him up. "Why is it little fucks like you always pick fights you can't finish?"
Dylan Delacroix Frederick Sinclair
But that seemed to be a signal for more to try and take on the broad-shouldered knight who, against all likelihood, started to laugh as he stood his ground and delivered punches all around and tossing smaller men about. And then, he felt a presence behind him and he whirled around, his fist high ready to deliver another one of his powerful blows, but he checked himself for the man he would wreck was his own kinsman. Who, it would seem, needed to get some lessons in guarding himself in a brawl. And in enjoying the small joys in life like a good-natured fist-fight. "What? You're telling me you're not having fun?"
And then, he saw him, cowering under a table. That little shite who had decided to start insulting him and again the burly knight roared and made his way across the floor and one powerful hand flung the table off to the side, and then he picked up the offensive knave up by the front of his tunic and held him up. "Why is it little fucks like you always pick fights you can't finish?"
Dylan Delacroix Frederick Sinclair
