Great Man Down

Justin walked alone through The eastern parts of Shadowdale. Patrolling alone was always a bad idea, but he had to stop the rebels from harassing his watch tower crew. The night air seeped through the holes in his helmet and licked his cheeks as he made his way to the crossroads. He knew not what lay there, but the compulsion was overwhelming.

A smirk slowly crawled across his lips as he spotted Arjay Lo'Ran. An elf. Weak, feeble, one eyed small. He could easily crush this insect and that is what he intended to do. He approached and noticed two more people, Seaniros and Silphie. With a wave of his hand he pulled Silphie protectively behind himself like a guardian. And he whispered in her ear before the fight..

"If I fall in battle, run..."

He approached Arjay Lo'Ran, a confident smirk spread across his face as he knew he had this shells number. He seemed to already to know the answer the question as he inquired.
"Robbing innocent people by the road? That's what Garok was doin' when we caught 'im flirtin' with highwaymen."

"We do not like Garok or Highwaymen, Zhent."

Justin slowly drew his axe from it's sheathe and Arjays eyes grew wide a moment. "Your accent.. The axe... What is your name?"

"Justin McGregor. And I will be killing you today."

Without another word the dark man sprinted forward with his shield in front of him. As Arjay began to cast a spell he soon found himself trying to concentrate through multiple axe wounds. The axe bit into his shoulder then a fist met his jaw. As the elf stumbled back he was met with a shield to the face and he was knocked over like a rag doll. Cruel laughter filled the air as Justin strolled over and gripped Arjay by his hair and pulled him upright.

"This all you got? Pathetic..."

He brought his head back ready to ram his helmet into the elfs face, but a few arcane mutterings wormed their way into his ear and a sonic boom deafened the Zhentarim Soldier and cause him to stumble back in pain. Arjay was granted mere moments to act quickly and he reached into his pouch and grabbed the first scroll he found... Storm of Vengeance.

Be Justin could act, heavy rain drops began to splatter his helmet and a bolt of lightning struck him right in the spot. The searing pain was unlike he felt before and it left him in a daze, allowing Arjay the precise strikes he needed to fell the soldier.

Justin was bloodied, battered and broken.. And he looked it as well as the two Defenders loomed over him. Arjay kicked Justin onto his back and glared down at him for a moment before speaking. "This is where your reign ends..."

"D-don't I get last.... Last words?" Justin meekly replied through labored breaths and bloody coughs.

"Very well, speak then..."

It is not known what his final words were... But these words shook Arjay to his core. Perhaps one of the most vile, contemptuous, tyrannical, sadistic bullies ever to join the Zhentarim... And his words moved Arjay like he had never been. They were not words of hate, they were not threats. These were words spoken by a man. Not a Zhent, Not a soldier, not a walking suit of armor... But a man with emotions, a life, and an oath.

With a disgusting look, Arjay sank his blade into the mans throat...

He picked up his axe and then looked to its wielder.

"Your request... It shall be done..."

((Thanks to Arjay, Seaniros and Silphie for attending. Thanks to all those who interacted with Justin, who laughed with Justin, who cried for Justin.. And to those who languished under his rule.))

// Very well written.

Awww so sad.

((Oh gods((Noes:(.Was great to play with Justin.Sad that was short))

Back at the campfire outside of Myth Drannor, Ardylan listens to Arjay tell his story about what happened during his fight with the Zhent.

His attention is focused solely on Arjay's words, but his eyes continue to drift back to Justin's axe. Arjay had carried it through the camp and sat it on the ground in front of him, next to the fire, for all to see. The elf did not seem to treat the axe like a trophy however, and he even seemed emotionally and mentally burdened by the act of having it in his possession.

There was no joy in Arjay's words that Ardylan could hear, no cheers over yet another Zhent killed. Even though everyone at the campfire congratulated Arjay on his good work and were glad he is safe, there didn't seem to be any celebration.

The more Ardylan stared at the axe, the more he wished it was his own trophy. He was jealous - why hadn't he been the one to kill such an important Zhent like Justin? Coupled with his realization that Arjay was not pleased to be carrying the enchanted hunk of shaped metal around, Ardylan offered to take it off his hands should he ever get sick of carrying it around.

Hunters should display their trophies proudly, after all.