Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-28667390-20161220050036/@comment-28667390-20170122130846

Ylgar, in the midst of the attack, hit Brevin in the leg, going through the skin and part of the muscle. Before Brevid could react, Ylgar slammed the pommel of his sword into Brevid's face as hard as he could, knocking him out cold and leaving a red mark on his forehead.

Ylgar headed for the castle with his guards in case of an ambush., blazing with fire. Arriving in the main room, he saw the Count sitting on his throne like he was laying down on a couch. He had several empty bottles of whiskey of the ground and has chugging another. When he looked at Ylgar. He stood up, smiled drunkenly, picked up the sword beside his throne, and fell on it. "That was easier than I expected!" Ylgar laughed, he had expected a fight, not a suicide. Ylgar sheathed his sword, victorious.

"Send word to the Stormblades, we need a garrison for the city and patrols looking for the imperials and elves." Ylgar commanded.

"Where are you going, sir?" A soldier asked.

"To find paper, I need to write a note to a crazy old man who may just have the things we need. That reminds me: PUT OUT THE FUCKING FIRE!"