Well played, good sir, well played

Good decisions are rarely made on impulse, especially when weapons are involved. I took a quick jaunt into Caledon between tasks and made the mistake of taking Gilbert Sapwood (heretofore to be known as 'Stone-Cold Storyteller')up on his offer of a friendly bout of En Garde. Recent jaunts into En Garde have illustrated why there is little military heritage in our tree, but Sapwood seemed about as talented as his name implies, and he does look so cavalier in those red Deadwood boots.
The mistake was made and my fate sealed, but he had to earn it. Ample trash talk in local and state chat proved an even sharper repartee than that between the blades. His victory came at the sacrifice of my dignity, and being an achingly sore loser, I plan to seek my revenge outside the pitch, with vicious gossip and slander.
I hear he eats fairies and traps furries in his basement. He hates kittens.