Post by Wilhelm Cransnikov on Feb 16, 2023 0:35:22 GMT
Every Saturday. Every Saturday that Rashadi bastard of a captain would ride out from that damn naval base to some poor unsuspecting public house with his men and then show the true face of Rashadi rule. He'd threaten and argue with the barkeep for free beer, he'd pick fights with any proper Laurian man who didn't cow his head, and he'd try to cuckold any man who had the misfortune of bringing his wife with him, in establishments of high repute!
Had it been one night it would have been different. He'd of just been another faceless example of the Rashadi boot grinding Laurian men into the dirt, but it was not just one night. It has been years of this and not an ounce of support from our so called 'protectors'. And worst of all when he had drunk his fill he'd wander around town making and ass of himself, harassing any poor boy with the misfortune of crossing his path, when he wasn't pissing or vomiting in the street of course.
There existed in opportunity in this, however, for while his men weren't as big drinkers as he, they were still generally tipsy by the end of the night. All it would take was a shot in the dark and a quick get away and that bastard would trouble Lauria no more.
Wulf didn't consider himself a hero. He joined the Liberation Army sure, but who hadn't? Still, the way he figured it he wouldn't have to be a hero. All it'd take was one shot and some quick legwork and the damn purple bastard would be eating cold dirt while he'd be home for supper.
It was just like all those nights before; the Rash didn't change, they couldn't. The bastard was across the street puking on the wall of some shop's wall, when Wulf raised his 6 gun and let slip a bullet. He had certainly caught the hornets nest with that though as mere moments later some of the bastard's entourage was after him. Taking for the hills, Wulf was ready to take the drunken Rash on a merry chase.
