The Prized Sword

Robert looked at the prized sword in his hands and felt angry.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his corrupted surroundings. He had always loved big Wynn with its manky, mutated 7 major towns. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel angry.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Drake . Drake was a skilled demon with tall legs and dark haired head.

Robert gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a Silent, loyal, tea drinker with thin legs and fair-skinned head. His friends saw him as a knobbly, knowledgeable knight. Once, he had even revived a dying, random person.

But not even a Silent person who had once revived a dying, random person, was prepared for what Drake had in store today.

The rain hammered like stabbing emu, making Robert happiness.

As Robert stepped outside and Drake came closer, he could see the dark glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want revenge," Drake bellowed, in a sly tone. He slammed his fist against Robert's chest, with the force of 2728 dragon. "I frigging hate you, Robert ."

Robert looked back, even more happiness and still fingering the prized sword. "Drake, dIEEEE," he replied.

They looked at each other with angry feelings, like two nervous, new narwhal running at a very deadly war, which had dubstep music playing in the background and two stoic uncles jumping to the beat.

Suddenly, Drake lunged forward and tried to punch Robert in the face. Quickly, Robert grabbed the prized sword and brought it down on Drake's skull.

Drake's tall legs trembled and his dark haired head wobbled. He looked angry, his body raw like a good, giant golden skull.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Drake was dead.

Robert went back inside and made himself a nice cup of tea.