Mighty Mighty lays down his bed, ending his day from a tiring session. A few snores later, a dream appears, and he steps into the dimly lit arena, a lantern flickering overhead as he addresses the gathered crowd.
Gather ‘round, good folk! Ladies and gentlemen, lads and lasses, children of the realm, behold your humble jester, Mighty Mighty! Tonight, we embark upon a grand adventure—a First Blood Match! What does this entail, you ask? A clash so fierce that crimson shall grace the ground before us!
He strikes a dramatic pose, arms outstretched, before pacing like a bard weaving a tale.
Ah, but you ponder, ‘Mighty, why tread the path of peril and pain?’ The answer lies in the heart of the contest, where valor and spirit shall reign supreme! For tonight, I face a challenger, a shadow from the unknown—Roland Grey, a newcomer to our storied tournament!
His expression shifts, eyes narrowing as he leans closer, as if sharing a secret with the crowd.
From the whispers of the winds and the murmurs of the townsfolk, I glean that Roland once roamed the wilds as a gunslinger, part of a feared band known as the Wolves of Arcadia. Alas, they have vanished like mist at dawn! And why, you ask? Allow me to share a jest: How many gunslingers does it take to change a lightbulb? None! They remain in darkness, casting blame like shadows upon one another.
Mighty Mighty chuckles, then retrieves a scroll labeled “Funky Intel: Roland Grey.” He unfurls it with a flourish, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Ah, Roland, my newfound foe! It seems you dabbled as a bounty hunter, a seeker of ill deeds! Yet it is said your pursuits bore strange fruit. Listen closely to these fables, for they are but a taste of your misadventures:
He holds up a finger, counting off each tale.
First! You chased a nobleman in fine garb, believing him a fugitive, only to discover he was naught but a lost accountant, seeking bread from the baker!
Second! You stormed a festivity, mistaking a joyous celebration for a gathering of rogues! At least the children feasted well, thanks to your unintentional gift of cake!
Third! Instead of handcuffs, you bore a net, tangled in folly! ‘Twas a challenge indeed to capture a villain whilst grappling with your own entrapment!
And lastly, you misidentified a jogger as your quarry! A clumsy tackle! I daresay, perhaps you should consider a different profession!
With a playful flick, he tosses the scroll aside, his laughter ringing through the hall.
So, Roland Grey, I beseech thee—are you prepared to embrace the mirth of this night? For Mighty Mighty shall transform this First Blood Match into a grand revelry! The arena shall tremble with joy, and I shall demonstrate that even in the face of peril, a jester’s spirit shines the brightest!
With a flourish, he spins, the crowd erupting in cheers as he strides toward the entrance. As he is about to step back, Mighty immediately wakes up, wondering what dream he had.
Man… I need to lay off from the vegetables, man. All meat for this guy from now on.