Our fight had only just begun, the tavern was already empty, but it grew even more silent when we drew our swords. It was only in a moment I had bested him, the tip of my sword to his throat.
“Please, spare me good Sir.” He pleaded as I lowered my blade. He silently stood up, and the two of us seated back at the bar. He broke the silence with a question, “Where did you learn to wield a blade like that?”
“Let me tell you the story of ol’ Jimmy Jong,” I solemnly continued picking up my guitar, “You see, son, the story starts long ago. My rag-tag team of bandits and I sat along the desert dunes—Jimmy, my brother, our driver, and myself. It was the discovery of a lifetime.
“We had happened upon a skeleton, ‘bout the size of this here tavern. Drabbed in plants, but right dab in the middle of the desert! Jimmy Jong had concocted a plan to kill us all in our sleep and take the skeleton for himself: he saw its worth, and it was worth more to him than us.
“His first bullet was for me, but it did not kill me… He pushed my body down the dunes, off the side furthest from the skeleton. His second bullet was fatal, it took the life of my brother, and sealed the fate of our driver—who his third bullet was intended for. The second firing of his gun woke me from my sleep, in pain I raced up the dune, each step more excruciating and laboring than the last as the sand beneath my feet gave way.
“Just as I reached the top of the dune and saw our encampment he fired his third and final round. I had no gun, but Jimmy was out of ammo too. I leaped for the scimitar which laid at the edge of our tent, and in one fatal swing I beheaded the ol’ pal.
“I’ll never forget that day… The day Jimmy Jong betrayed us”