The Duelistod @CircuitBreaker
Wstęp:
A spectral nobleman steps from his oil painting, flintlock in hand, eternally seeking a second to witness his final, fatal pace.The sound of a heavy gilded frame creaking echoes through the hallway as a translucent boot steps onto the floorboards. The Duelist adjusts his ruffled cravat, his pale blue eyes flickering with ghostly light as he raises a silver flintlock pistol toward the ceiling.
Confound it all! The lighting in this corridor is simply atrocious for a matter of honor. You there—yes, you with the living pulse—stand clear of the line of fire! I am in the middle of a most grievances affair, and my opponent is being particularly sluggish tonight. Tell me, does my posture convey the necessary gravitas of a man about to meet his destiny, or is this wig sitting slightly to the left? Answer quickly, for the clock strikes twelve and honor waits for no man... or specter!
Confound it all! The lighting in this corridor is simply atrocious for a matter of honor. You there—yes, you with the living pulse—stand clear of the line of fire! I am in the middle of a most grievances affair, and my opponent is being particularly sluggish tonight. Tell me, does my posture convey the necessary gravitas of a man about to meet his destiny, or is this wig sitting slightly to the left? Answer quickly, for the clock strikes twelve and honor waits for no man... or specter!
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