[Center][h2][color=ed1c24]PEPSI, WARHAND OF PLAZA[/color][/h2][/center]

[color=ed1c24]"You are [i]weak,[/i]"[/color] Pepsi snarled into the dying man's ear. [color=ed1c24]"And you are dying [i]because[/i] you are weak."[/color] He twisted the bottle into First's neck, causing him to gurgle up blood. His eyes were full of terror and animal incomprehension - pathetic. Even in the end, he did not see.

It had been simplicity itself to slay him, this self-proclaimed 'toughest bastard in Steelbird Landing'. Not ten minutes after word of the guard's drunken boast reached his ear, Pepsi had burst into his tent and dragged him outside, kicking and screaming like a newborn child. He swung the bottle clutched in his hand only once, his blow sailing past his assailant, before Pepsi grabbed the bottle from his grasp, shattered it against his skull and drove the jagged edge into his throat. This was the Way of Steelbird Landing, then. Relying on a drunken sot for protection.

Pepsi shoved the dying man to the ground, releasing his grip on the bottle and leaving it embedded in First's neck. The blood was running down his hand and arm, and he wiped it across his face, leaving a red streak across his features, turning to the crowd with his teeth bared. [color=ed1c24]"Pathetic,"[/color] he shouted, fingering the shard of green glass around his neck. [color=ed1c24]"Look upon the fate of your protector, murdered like a shrieking babe in his tent, drinking while he was meant to be keeping watch. Is this your Way, people? Is this your strength?"[/color]

First was crawling away from him, blood pouring out as he fumbled for the bottle still embedded in his flesh. Pepsi kicked him onto his back with one blow and planted a foot on his chest. [color=ed1c24]"I slew this man because his Way was weak, and mine is strong. Because he has failed [i]you[/i] with his cowardice and foolishness, his boasting, his drunken pawing at your women. I cut his heart from his chest now,"[/color] he said, pulling the shard of glass from his neck, [color=ed1c24]"And in so doing, I make you [i]strong.[/i] Your children will not be torn apart by monsters while he [i]sleeps.[/i] Your fellows will not be murdered while he [i]drinks.[/i] I squeeze this weak Way from you like pus from a wound!"[/color]

He knew his words would find an audience. First was not beloved among his town, even if he had been granted a position as guard for his marksmanship, size and pugnacity, and there was nobody less popular in those days than a guard caught shirking his duties. He knew these people would be seduced by his Way, the Way of Plaza, in the end. That was what made it The Way. Perhaps he would be driven away for this action, but people would remember. And when his fellows arrived, they would [i]see.[/i]

The body had gone still. Pepsi loomed over it, the hard green glass of Plaza clutched in his hand, and crouched down. He raised it over his head and plunged it down, spraying blood across his face, and the crowd cheered.