"Remove yourself Sirrah, the wench belongs to me;" Blabbered a drunken soldier, too far consumed by the influences of his virile brew to take note of the superior size of his adversary.
Grignr lithly bounded from the startled female, his face lit up to an ashen red ferocity, and eyes locked in a searing feral blaze toward the swaying soldier.
"To hell with you , braggard!" Bellowed the angered Ecordian, as he hefted his finlly honed broad sword.
The staggering soldier clumsily reached towards the pommel of his dangling sword, but before his hands ever touched the oaken hilt a silvered flash was slicing the heavy air. The thews of the savages lashing right arm bulged from the glistening bronzed hide as uis blade bit deeply into the soldiers neck, loping off the confused head of his senseless tormentrr.
With a nauseating thud the severed oval toppled to the floor, as the segregated torso of Grignr's bovine antagonist swayed, then collapsed in a pool of swirled crimson.
In the confusion the soldier's fellows confronted Grignr with unsheathed cutlasses, directed toward the latters scowling make-up.
"The slut should have picked his quarry more carefully!" Roared the victor in a mocking baritone growl, as he wiped his dripping blade on the prostrate form, and returned it to its scabbard.
"The fool should have shown more prudence, however you shall rue your actions while rotting in the pits."Stated one of the sprawled soldier's comrades.
Grignr's hand began to remove his blade from its leather housing, but retarded the motion in face of the blades waving before his face.
"Dismiss your hand from the hilt, barbarbian, or you shall find a foot of steel sheathed in your gizzard."
Grignr weighed his position observing his plight, where-upon he took the soldier's advice as the only logical choice. To attempt to hack his way from his present predicament could only warrant certain death. He was of no mind to bring upon his own demise if an alternate path presented itself. The will to necessitate his life forced him to yeild to the superior force in hopes of a moment of carlessness later upon the part of his captors in which he could effect a more plausible means of escape.
"You may steady your arms, I will go without a struggle."
"Your decision is a wise one, yet perhaps you would have been better off had you forced death," the soldier's mouth wrinkled to a sadistic grin of knowing mirth as he prodded his prisoner on with his sword point.
