Here's the start of something my younger self was drafting up back in the day... maybe 2000 or so.
enjoy,,, or get your rotten tomato arm limbered up.
Three Warriors Vignette: Intro
The three warriors sat around their waning campfire, casting long shadows into the encroaching twilight of sunset. One stared into the fire, lost in thought, while the other two were toasting their recent good fortune, and bragging about what mighty fighters they were.
The first, a tall barbarian with long blond hair and rippling muscles, boasted that he had killed a dozen men in the epic battle they fought just four days ago.
Bork was the barbarian’s name, and he fought with sword, axe, or mace. It mattered little, for he was strong and swift, and shook off pain that would make lesser men faint.
“I, Bork, killed a dozen men, and three with my bare hands! This makes me the toughest warrior,” he said, before draining the mead in his drinking horn in a single swig.
The second, a small, lithe man with a rat-like face, gulped grog from his tin tankard before saying, “I dropped fourteen men myself, and took only a scratch. This makes me the toughest, and nimblest warrior!” This was Reghard, a swashbuckling fellow with a smattering of magical skill, extraordinary knife throwing abilities and an unorthodox fencing style that baffled opponents.
The third warrior was Zzidjz Du’Oo’Ordinai, an exile from the vast underground cities of the evil purple elves whom many thought were only legend. All who saw the deadly dance of his swordplay agreed he was the most skillful swordsman they had ever met in their lives. After rejecting the wicked ways of his people, Zzidjz had fled to the surface world. During this journey, he rescued Bork and Reghard from horrid face-eating sentient fungi and the three warriors had been fast friends ever since.
Zzidjz spoke one word,
“Nineteen,”
and continued to stir the embers of the fire with his penis.
Crestfallen, Reghard and Bork toasted him. “Zzidjz is the toughest” they sighed.
