A LEGEND is called to rest- The Crazed Cat is DEAD
Kingsman last edited by Kingsman
Yesterday, my brothers and sisters, the Spineless and cowardly chosen of Malar and his goons slaughtered an innocent man in the streets. This man was Bernard Huxley, the legendary gladiator, lord of mercenaries, destroyer of Hronk. He was a paragon of humanity, employer of men, destroyer of our enemies. He may have had a tendency for inappropriate lovemaking to a sword he robbed from graves of ancient liches for sport- and toward a statue that looked like a fat goblin- but where he walked, could the people feel safe. He was a man of honor, dedication, justice. He, was a true friend of Arabel, of its people- of its virtues and values- of its prosperous future. He, was my friend.
This hero was robbed from us- because he became casualty in a conflict against madness that had swept through the streets of Arabel unchallenged. He became a victim in a war he had no part in- because the spineless madmen saw him as a threat that stood on their way to world domination. This man, who had dedicated his life to honorable combat and had spared even unworthy foes to live another day, was butchered like a hapless animal by men who shared neither his honor nor his skill in combat. He could have beaten all of them on his own in a fair fight if he so wished- and because of this, the cowards killed him, unarmed- back turned.
This legend was stolen from a death worthy his merits. His path remains unfinished, yet he has already become a symbol for men to aspire to. Wherever he may now be in the beyond- we pray that he returns, for all of Arabel mourns the passing of this hero.
After seeing this foul beast do its abysmal deed to my friend- I slaughtered it like the monster it was. Know that his miserable end came in the gutter of Old Town, not like a gallant predator of Hullack- but like a spineless rat trying to escape back into the sewage- with no hope. The last moments of this wretched coward were not of great conquest nor of world domination, but of listening to the wheezes on his crushed lungs, the sharp displeasure that violated his mouth where his teeth used to be- and agonizing pain that resonated from all his broken limbs. The last sight he had, was the spiked end of a dire mace- the family weapon of House Bhaliir- before it landed, and ended his wretched life. And in these last moments, it was not insanity I saw in his eyes- it was tangible fear.
The Moral of this story is as follows: A paragon of humanity who had dedicated his life to honorable virtues and the safety of his race will avenged. In his death, be it worthy of him or not- his legacy will live on, and he becomes legend for others to idolize. And wretched spineless animal will be treated like one, and will be butchered and broken if it chooses to challenge the supreme race of man.
I am the provider of Arabel, the protectorate of Old Town. I will continue to dedicate my life to the future of my people. I shall aspire to be as brave and mighty as Bernard Huxley. I, the Blue Dragon of Arabel, paragon of humanity- will see the future of mankind secured.
Humanity WILL prosper