Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-26443603-20140609203131/@comment-5543592-20140611201359

Pierre continued to play with the fire, completely unaware of what was happening several miles south in Falkreath.

"That's some trick, boy." Said a Nord dressed in iron armor, sitting on the bench across from him.

"You jealous?" Sneered Pierre.

"Nay, just minding my buisness."

"That's what I thought." Said Pierre aggressively.

"You've got some mouth.  You better watch what you say, or someone'll teach you a lesson some day."

"That a threat, old man!?" Shouted Pierre standing up. The Nord looked quite surprised that the conversation had escalated so fast. The warrior's hand slowly inched toward his sword. Pierre drew his claymore and was holding it to the man's throat in an instant. Everyone in the inn had drawn weapons and was standing up, eyeing the confrontation.

"Come on, draw it." Taunted Pierre. "Give me a reason."

"Shor's bones!" Cried Haelga. "Settle down!"

"Kill the freak!" Screamed some Nord in the inn and all the inhabitants charged Pierre. The ironclad warrior's head darted for his sword, a fatal mistake. Pierre sliced his throat and moved for the door, but several men were already upon him. Pierre slit the stomach open of the closest, as his sword arm was recovering. He charged up a fireball spell and threw it at the oncoming attackers, scattering them, sending some to the ground, and bathing some in flames too. With that he sprinted from the bar, down the street, and out of the city before anyone knew what had happened. He had stolen a horse and was halfway to Falkreath, continuing his quest south, before the Whiterun guard could even organize a manhut.