Snippet #2091090

Some minutes after the bout had ended, Sir Rupert found himself slowly regaining consciousness within the cool, sky blue canvas confines of the healers tent, the Knight had but a moment to reflect upon his loss in the melee, before the shock hit him as he recognised the large, bearded face leering down at him.

"Ello Rupert,"
Bjorn growled, The Knight opened his mouth to scream for aid but the Jarl's large hand clamped down instantly over his throat!

Sir Rupert kicked and thrashed feebly to free himself from the Barbarians iron grip as the snarling Norscan began to crush the breath from him...

"Surprised tae see me still alive?"
The Steelheart asked, eyes flashing like twin chips of flaming ice...

"Impossible!"
Sir Rupert gasped, his voice hoarse and strained as the Jarl applied yet more pressure,
"He... He said you would be weak..!"

Bjorn's brows bunched like thunder heads, releasing his grip on Ruperts throat, the Barbarian instead grabbed the Knight by the front of his shirt and heaved him up into a sitting position, bringing them almost nose to nose...

"Who told you What?!"
The Norsii demanded in a low growl...

Sir Rupert began to protest, so Bjorn drove his forehead hard into the man's nose, shattering it like glass with what would now be the Knights third head-butt of the day...

"Give me a name, worm,"
Bjorn inisted once more to the now sobbing, bleeding Rupert...

"I... I never saw his face!"
The stricken Knight gasped,
"He came to me after the feast, a cloaked figure offering me revenge against you for the slight upon my... My honour!"

Even as Rupert spoke the word, an unpleasant aroma began to fill the tent, looking down, Bjorn notes the large wet patch now spreading across Rupert's leggings...

"Ye not even worth killing!"
Bjorn grunted is disgust, releasing the Knight and letting him fall back down onto the bed,
"But that doesn't mean I ain't going tae hurt ye... Tell me of this 'Messenger."

"I told you!"
Wept Sir Rupert desperately,
"I never saw his face, only those eyes...!!"

Bjorn frowned, his hand moving to the haft of his axe as he did so, an action not unnoticed by the wide eyes, bloody nosed Sir Rupert...
"What eyes?"

"G...Grey as steel they were! Barely human! I swear that's all I saw..!!"

Bjorn nodded, tugging his axe from his belt as he did so...

"No! No!!"
Shreiked Sir Rupert, trying to back away,
"You said you wouldn't kill me!!"

Ignoring the mans pleas, Bjorn roughly grabbed the weeping Knight by the writs, tugged Rupert's arm out straight and hewed the hand clean off with one savage stroke!

Blood sprayed the floor of the tent as Rupert desperately clutched the bloodied stump of his wrist back to his chest, screaming and sobbing in agony.
Callously, Bjorn kicked the severed hand away across the floor.

"Haver yer worthless life, Rupert,"
The Jarl growled, as he stalked from the tent, pausing at the doorway as he did so to look back at the stricken Knight,
"But yer Sword Hand belongs tae the Blood God now... Ye were never fit tae weild a blade anyway, let alone call yerself a Knight."

Leaving the sobbing cripple behind him, Bjorn Steelheart stepped out into the light of day once more and set off towards the Tourney field as the distant voice of The Herald began to announce the start of the Second Round...