Good day to you grey faced mortal!
The Duelists are fighting over many things. With every day comes a new subject for them to draw fire over. It is so irritating.
Back when they were living, the duelists lived in neighboring counties and were known as the best shot in their respective county. This led them to have an unspoken rivalry. To commemorate them and their talent, each duelist had a oil painting of them hung up in the tavern on the border of the two counties.
Well one day a fine lady by the name of Abigail moved into the area. Both of them fell head over heels with her. Better yet, her fiancee had died in a farming accident and she was available. Her father was a gamekeeper and enjoyed the beauty of a rifle. What better way to win Abigail than to woo her father with their sharp shooting? The only thing standing in their way was each other.
One moonlit night, on the eve of Abigail’s birthday, both duelists left to go to her house. How surprised they were to see each other there. Vowing to end this rivalry once and for all, they took their places opposite each other on the lawn and raised their rifles. The duel went on for a brief period (so I’m told) and in the end one was left standing as you guys know.
The victor strode up to the house and declared his affections for Abigail. He expressed his pleasure at defeating his rival and offered the corpse as proof of his dedication for her. Abigail, however, was not so pleased by the corpse on her lawn. Declaring the man to be not yet worthy of her love, she ordered him to return the next evening with as many deer as he could shoot that night.
Unfortunately, this isn’t a Disney story and our victorious duelist did not win over his princess with the bloody bodies of many cervus. As he was roaming a country lane looking for deer prints he was jumped by a group of men and beaten to death, finally being savaged by a rather irritable dog belonging to the group. You see, our hapless duelist had not one by legitimate means, instead opting to resort to a dirty duel to win his beloved’s heart. The men who jumped him were from Mister Sewell’s county and had heard of his death. They vowed to kill his killer with their bare hands
Mister Sewell and his rival (who won’t disclose his name to us out of embarrassment) now reside in the paintings that hung in the pub on the border. After making contact with Madame Leota, they requested for their paintings to be brought to the mansion. They stiil argue over everything. What to watch on the television, what day it is, who the better duelist is, who the better dancer is, the list goes on.
I tend to stay out of their way as much as I can. My suicide has left me with a certain distaste for guns and the idea of bullets ricocheting around the room puts me at unease.