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The Magpie.

The Magpie

The Magpie flew upon a dark blue field. Ser Isaak Kern raised his heraldry, for it to be beaten down by his foes mace. He punched his spear forward in weak retaliation, the steel head shooting sparks as it hit The Badger's left greeve. Ser Jone Fleour brought the rim of his shield down, a moment after Isaak drew back his spear.

The Magpie moved back, as Jone's thick plate creaked. The Badger was shorter, and couldn't move fast in the thick plate his three villages had financed. Isaak, in the thin hauberk from the few farms he protected, gave more movement to his long limbs. A single blow from The Badgers flanged mace would see him yield, and more then likely dead.

The Magpie took a breath as The Badger came at him with a roar, red fielded shield forward, wicked mace held back to strike. He saw the token around its head, streaming in the wind. So similar to the one around his own weapon. No more room behind him, the jeers and cheers of the gather knights and peasants coming back to him for a moment. Forward then, since honour demanded it.

The Magpie exhaled. One clear thrust, his blue fielded shield forgotten. He would strike, or his body would be returned home without a face. The tip quivered ever so slightly, the oak shaft would do that. Isaak's target was small, his aim perfect. Like his families name sake, he plucked treasure, and stole it from his foe.

The Magpie drew back the bloody tip. It had been a prick but that was what was needed. He step aside as The Badger crashed to the ground, mace smacked wetly on the grass. The barrel chested Ser Jone tore the helmet from his head, breaking a leather strap that would cost a peasant a year to earn. The left side of his face was washed with dark crimson, his dark beard dripping with it. The eye was leaking and he placed a gauntleted hand over it, vainly trying to reverse the blinding wound.

The Magpie turned, and bowed to the king, leaving the field with honour. The Badger's comrades ran past him, each gave a moment to stare at the upstart knight. Honour would be demanded of Isaak again. So be it, thought The Magpie.

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TGNewman
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