Tuesday, June 8, 2010


Baerom Thunderstaff looked on approvingly as Damian Agundar and Bordane, his smug younger brother repeatedly draw leather and take aim on the stuffy-guy target at the end of the courtyead. This act of drawing and holstering the flintlock pistols would train their hands to perform this action perfectly when thinking is an act of luxury.

“Pull!” Sai Thunderstaff commanded over and over and after what seemed like the hundredth-hundredth time he bid the boys to holster up and approach. “I have watched your progress boys; you have come along way in a short amount of time and am satisfied that you are ready to bear the apprentice weapons with the proper ammunition.”

The Agundar’s boys exchange puzzled looks. “Yes, that’s right. Do you think I’d unleash the two of you upon the city with live ammunition?” Baerom’s smile grew wide and playfully devious as he hands the two young lords two duskwood cigar boxes full of mastercrafted slugs. “Exercise caution and a noble's discretion with these weapons my young lads 'cause it takes feats of skill to properly wield these exotic weapons. Furthermore;” his visage turns dark, “just possessing such firearms will mark you as mage-slayers; ware who sees you pull leather.”


Gordzilla said...

Damian: I like the idea of being a mage-slayer. I like the idea of the mage not seeing me even better.

Gordzilla said...

Damian: I've already got my cool guy line for when I kill my first wizard. "Snap Crackle POP BITCHES!"