Anton slowly turned, his sword held tightly in his hands, just in case any of the pirates in the room tried to attack him when he wasn't looking. What he saw was a bit surprising. Entering the room was a man, dressed in a similar fashion to the rest of the pirates present (as in, very foppish), carrying a massive broadsword that was even bigger than he was. What was most noticeable though was that the pirate was riding atop the biggest horse Anton had ever seen, decked out in equine armour and other ornaments. What was a horse doing on a ship? And why was somebody riding it?
"Well now," the rider spoke, his voice thick with arrogance, "What do we have here? A noble actually able to fight?" Anton was about to correct him when he remembered his attire. Guess mistaking him for a noble was understandable. "Actually," Anton spoke up, "I am Commander Anton La'croix of the marines," He stood up tall, pointing his sword at the man, hoping to give off an intimidating image. Instead, the man simply laughed. "A marine you say? And here I thought there were none amongst this poultry group who could actually challenge us. Cutting you lot down has proven very easy." Anton clenched his teeth in anger. Talking about death so casually, even laughing about it!
The man finally stopped laughing, but the smirk on his face remained. "Well then, since you've proven a little bit of a distraction, I think I'll have the honour of crushing you under hoof." He held his sword out in front of him in a dramatic pose. "Witness this moment ladies and gentlemen. I, the Pirate Knight Lestalt of the Aristocrat Pirates will squash this little bug with one swing of my sword!"
Anton rose an eyebrow. "The Aristocrat Pirates? There's nothing aristocratic about you! Dressing up like a fop does not make you an aristocrat. Besides, it looks like you'll have trouble swinging that sword of yours. Your arm's trembling." For once since their encounter, the smirk vanished from Lestalt's face. Mainly because, well, Anton was right. His arm had been trembling holding that heavy blade. "Enough talk!" he yelled out, "Time to put an end to this little resistance!" With a yell, he dug his feet into the horse's side, sending it charging towards Anton. Anton braced himself, holding his sword ready as Lestalt held it high. He swung the heavy blade down at him as he charged past.
The two blades clashed, the sound of metal striking echoing throughout the massive ballroom.
"Well now," the rider spoke, his voice thick with arrogance, "What do we have here? A noble actually able to fight?" Anton was about to correct him when he remembered his attire. Guess mistaking him for a noble was understandable. "Actually," Anton spoke up, "I am Commander Anton La'croix of the marines," He stood up tall, pointing his sword at the man, hoping to give off an intimidating image. Instead, the man simply laughed. "A marine you say? And here I thought there were none amongst this poultry group who could actually challenge us. Cutting you lot down has proven very easy." Anton clenched his teeth in anger. Talking about death so casually, even laughing about it!
The man finally stopped laughing, but the smirk on his face remained. "Well then, since you've proven a little bit of a distraction, I think I'll have the honour of crushing you under hoof." He held his sword out in front of him in a dramatic pose. "Witness this moment ladies and gentlemen. I, the Pirate Knight Lestalt of the Aristocrat Pirates will squash this little bug with one swing of my sword!"
Anton rose an eyebrow. "The Aristocrat Pirates? There's nothing aristocratic about you! Dressing up like a fop does not make you an aristocrat. Besides, it looks like you'll have trouble swinging that sword of yours. Your arm's trembling." For once since their encounter, the smirk vanished from Lestalt's face. Mainly because, well, Anton was right. His arm had been trembling holding that heavy blade. "Enough talk!" he yelled out, "Time to put an end to this little resistance!" With a yell, he dug his feet into the horse's side, sending it charging towards Anton. Anton braced himself, holding his sword ready as Lestalt held it high. He swung the heavy blade down at him as he charged past.
The two blades clashed, the sound of metal striking echoing throughout the massive ballroom.