Queen's Blade Championship
If have not already, please put your profile into Roleplay Profiles ready for movement into Encyclopedia.

A Red Dinner

Go down

A Red Dinner

Post by Damion MacSteele on Thu Jun 20, 2013 1:25 am

Omar Buchanan sits at a bench in the food hall, eying up his competition with as much scepticism as he does his food. His gaze is diverted by a man with spiral scars on his face who takes the seat directly opposite him, sets his plate of food down and smiles his trademark smile.

Damion – Alright big yin, how’s it goin?

Omar grunts an inaudible syllable announcing his displeasure at being brought back to reality; in his mind’s eye he was replaying the results of last week, estimating the quality of his opposition.
Damion catches the disgusted look that Omar is giving him, but, as usual, carries on regardless.

Damion – Look at this here.

Omar glances up his, brow furrowed with thought as Damion holds his plate up for inspection.

Damion – You know, ah’m pretty sure ah ordered the oatmeal slop. This is quite clearly oatmeal gruel. Bloody service in this place eh?

Omar – Oatmeal is oatmeal in my opinion, I prefer to call it porridge though

Damion looks around in the direction of the kitchens


He looks back at Omar

Damion – So, how’s it goin’?

Omar – I’m just trying to get to grips with everything here, it’s such a weird place, the whole situation is just surreal. I still can’t quite remember how I got here. All I recall is a nearly blinding purple light, that was it and now I’m here.

Damion – Aye, we were there, an’ now we’re here. Unfortunately ah remember how ah got here, an’ it was bloody painful let me tell ye.

He rubs the scars on his face .

Damion - Well, from what ah’ can tell so far, ‘an mind you, ah’m no expert on lassie’s wi’ wings and tails, but ah think we’re in a heap oh trouble an’ I mean to be getting’ the hell oot oh here as soon as ah can.

Damion leans in a bit.

Damion - So where was ‘there’ for yourself? Was it some mad dimension wi’ beasties an’ boogie men?

Omar – Nah mate, nothing out of the ordinary, this is all such a shock to me. I don’t know what’s going on most of the time and I’m not sure that I want to. The only thing I want to know about this place is how to get out of here, and if I can get a title and become a bit of a fan favourite while I’m here that’ll be a nice bonus. I just want things to…

Omar’s frown deepens and his mood darkens as it becomes apparent that the sight of King Krimsin sitting at another table has got Damion’s full attention. Damion gets up, completely ignoring the fact that Omar hasn’t stopped speaking, walks calmly over to the King in red, sit’s down opposite him, smiles and winks.

Damion – Alright big yin… How’s it goin’?

King looks slightly bemused that this fool would dare talk to him after last week.

King Krimsin – What’s wrong with…

Damion doesn’t give him the opportunity to say anything. In a blinding flash of violence his hand has reached under Kings plate of oatmeal and flipped it into Krimsin’s face blinding him. In almost the same movement Damion grabs hold of the Kings dinner tray. King Krimsin stands up, roaring and grabbing at his face. As the Kings head rises it meets the dinner tray which is being brought downward with a great force. There’s an almighty crack as skull meets wood. The tray snaps in half. King Krimsin rocks on his feet trying to piece together his thoughts. Damion jumps onto the dinner table and launches himself into a Lou Thesz Press from the table. Both men tumble to the floor and Damion instigates a flurry of punches to King Krimsin’s face.

As the punches rain down, Damion starts whooping.

Damion – Wooo, aye laddie, ye like to be a red King do ye? Well, ah’m here to help wi’ that! Woooo!

Damion stands up and immediately starts stomping on the prone body of King Krimsin.

Guards start to move towards the commotion brandishing chains and clubs.

Damion reaches out to grab a chair.

Damion – Oh aye, now we’re havin’ fun!!
One of the guards gets pushed aside as a man in armour rushes past . The muscular figure quickly gets to Damion and punches the chair out of his grasp. For a moment it is as if time had stopped. Basil Blackheart stands right next to the big Scot, with a look of disappointment on his face. Basil comes closer to Damion. Both men now standing face to face. Basil is breathing heavily, he can barely contain himself.

Basil Blackheart: How weak exactly are you, coward?
Damion is in stunned silence.
Blackheart's eyes jump for a second to the lying King before getting back on Damion. The executioner is clearly disgusted by the act of cowardice shown by Damion. With that time seemed to regain it's normal flow as everybody realised what had just happened.
Damion - Weak?...Coward?...laddie, ah'm not so sure ye know what you're speakin' about. If ah were you, ah'd be wantin' to stay oot oh this.

With certain calmness, Blackheart shakes his head.

Basil - I'm not afraid of you, little man! Twice now you have shown yourself to be weak. Once in the arena, and now this cowardly attack. We shall meet again, you and I, in the arena, where I will spare no quarter in punishing you for your cowardice and weakness.

Damion - fair enough mah overly armoured pal. In the arena it is.

Damion glances down at the Krimsin’s unconscious body. Oatmeal and blood cover’s his face and hair.

Damion – Ye know, ah cannae tell where his clothes stop an’ his heid starts. Ha.

One of the guards shoves her stick into Damion’s solar plexus making him double over. The other one clamps a set of cuffs behind his back.

Damion – Och, get ye to hell ye bloody devil women, ye dinnae need the chains wi’ me!

Guard 1 – You know, I'm not sure I want to know what you're saying. It could be that you're insulting us.

Guard 2 – Well, I guess we’ll just have to assume that he is.

Guard 1 (sighs) - I guess so...

The second guard holds Damion upright, positioning him for another shot to the solar plexus from the baton. Damion doubles over once more. They drag him out of the food hall. If the audience could understand the complexities of the Scots language, especially when uttered by an irate Scotsman, they would be shocked and appalled at the outpouring from Damion MacSteele’s mouth as he’s marched back towards his cell.

Last edited by Damion MacSteele on Fri Jun 21, 2013 6:19 am; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : Last edit. I promise.)
Damion MacSteele

Posts : 72
Join date : 2013-05-28
Location : Caladonia

Back to top Go down

Re: A Red Dinner

Post by Guest on Thu Jun 20, 2013 10:36 pm

PM me as soon as you finish it and tell me where you want it in the show.


Back to top Go down

Back to top

Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum