The crowded streets remained indifferent to Percival as he lumbered down the muddy walks that bordered the cobblestone lane. At least he was making a valiant effort at lumbering. As much as anyone can be said to lumber who comes "knee high to my grandam's bum" as the sergeant-at-arms said in response to Percival's stated intent to join the Royal Marines. "I dare say you'd be safe behind a great shield, but you need to be able to see over it from time to time." said the gruff mound of brined soldier. This is not what Percival had expected to hear. You see, Percival had two assets that all good psychopaths need. He was short -- though he would likely be of a height with sergeant Grove's grandmum. He also, as you may have noticed, had a very unfortunate name. So lumber he did. Despite, or maybe because, no one noticed.
Percival had fallen on hard times. His short temper had always been a problem. He was constantly being scolded, punished and finally jailed for his inability to overlook even the smallest of perceived slights. When released at the end of his two month sentence for his role as the sole combatant on one side of a taproom brawl, he was told to "Find a use for all that passion." This was a last act of kindness offered as he was escorted to the edge of the town by the constable. "Join the military, or sign on as a guard in a caravan."the kindly man had said. "Just don't come back here. You know they let you off easy in memory of your mother, bless her soul."
Percival hadn't started the day out lumbering. He had started the day with what approached a spring in his step. He had thought that today was the day he would get to take some "passion" out on someone who really deserved it. All he'd managed so far was to get a great head of passion boiling away without the slightest notion of who really deserved to be on the business end of it. Three overland shipping companies, four private guard companies, a pair of mercenary outfits and now the lowest of the low. The Royal bleeding Marines. Most people had sense enough to know that you didn't need to get on a ship before getting a chance to die for your country. You could do that well enough serving in the army. They had turned him away yesterday. So, all Percival had to show for coming to the great port city was some extra wear on his boots.
Percival had run out of options. He had tried everywhere with no luck. "No luck but bad" he thought glumly as he pushed through a tight ring of screaming men. He was so absorbed in his own troubles that he didn't notice the sounds of unarmed combat. The crowd had gathered to watch as a group of men were squaring off against a loan figure. The figure was bruised and battered. Blood from multiple cuts on his face dripped on to the muddied cobbles. His knuckles were torn and there were scrapes up and down his small frame. He stood, however, unflinching in front of a woman huddled around her torn clothing spewing forth a string of profanities that would send a pious man into a coma. The only thing that the figure seemed more unimpressed with than he was with his antagonists was the amount of damage he had taken. There was simply no give visible in his small frame.
"Fuck off, Runt!" a voice sounded from behind Percival as he was taking in the scene. "This is a private matter." The blow that caught him in the back of his head was sharp and well delivered, but didn't have the affect the speaker hoped for. If it had been aimed at a Jack, or William, or even a Tom, it may have sent the recipient running for cover. But, as we have established, a Percival would not be treated in such a dismissive manor. This Percival was even less willing to "fuck off." This Percival was having a very bad day and this seemed like a great opportunity for him to use his passion.
Percival spun just in time to see the follow up to the earlier dismissal. He slipped to the side of the meaty fist as it passed through the space he had previously occupied, grabbed it firmly in both hands and started climbing the arm attached to it. Swinging one leg over a shoulder and locking the other around the barrel chested man who had taken the roll of negotiator had the affect of freeing Percival's hands for other activities. The activities he chose to pursue with his newly idle hands can be summed up with the words pummeling, poking and gouging. The negotiator, thrown off balance by his being used as an impromptu ladder, fell backwards in his attempt to escape the devilment produced by Percival's not-so-idle hands.
A flashing glimpse of the figure defending the maiden showed him being pressed by three of the six assailants. A further scan revealed the remaining two unoccupied thugs closing on Percival and their beleaguered spokesman. The fists and boots began raining down on Percival with the force of hammers. Before he knew it he was curled up on the ground next to the figure trying vainly to protect himself from the furry of the negotiator and his neckless cohorts. He looked over at the figure and was surprised to see a wide grin spreading across his face. Percival didn't know what there was to be happy about. The blows had taken on a surreal kind of pattern almost like hoof beats. In fact Percival was hearing sounds exactly like hoof beats and cutting through them the sound of the figure's voice, strangely cultured, thanking him and naming him friend.
"Stop in the name of the king!" This was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of swords being pulled from scabbards. The hoofbeats, heard earlier, were produced by a company of horsemen in full armor. "Sergeant, take these men into custody!" Orders were shouted and men detailed to take charge of the negotiator's party. One of the horsemen nudged his horse in Percival's direction, but was brought up short by the figure's cultured words. "Hold on Scotty. Leave this one to me." The figure then reached for and was handed Scotty's sword. Percival was still stunned and trying to rise up from his knees when the figure asked him his name. Upon reply the figure lightly touched him on both shoulders and said "Rise, Sir Percival, and accept my thanks for your aid in defending her highness, the princess who I hope has learned her lesson about sneaking out of the palace without a guard."
