A British rogue

A tall gentleman strolls into the arena His boots kicking up dust from the ground as he walks. Standing at roughly 6'1 he strikes an imposing figure. Wearing a long well tailored black jacket and shining metal buckles holding it against his white shirt beneath. His dark brown eyes stair out harshly from below the brim of his stylish black bowler hat. A few light scars marring his otherwise chiselled features. A little stubble shadowing his chin and above his split lips.

He stops still as his eyes catch the sight of Fierre sparring with a training dummy, admiring the duellists toned backside. He clears his throat to get Fierre's attention "Good evening milady my name is Roth I'm here today because I was told a contest was being held here by a fellow who goes by the name of Fierre?" Roth says in a classic London accent tipping his bowler hat politely with calloused fingers.

Fierre stairs at him with thinly veiled animosity grinding his teeth when Roth confuses his gender "I. am. Fierre" he replies chewing out the words like a particularly tough stake.

Roth grins back "oh I beg your forgiveness my lord I meant no offence" He states sarcasm obvious in his voice. Clearly he actually knew the person before him was a man and was teasing him for kicks.

Fierre glares back "I hope you don't fight as stupid as you talk" He says pouting cutely having taken offence.

Roth laughs back clearly amused "oh my it sure is easy to get under your skin. I wonder how easy it is to get under your clothes" he says smirking

Fierre blushes from the words suddenly feeling a bit self concious of his outfit "how dare you! my parents would cut your head off for saying such dirty words" he responds shaking his shoulders angrily fingers playing on the handle of his blade.

"but your parents aren't here, no one else is, only you heard what I said. So what are you gonna do about it? are you really gonna let a scoundrel like me say such filth" Roth responds pressing all the buttons.

"No I am most certainly not. In fact I intend to give you a right thrashing and teach you a lesson about how you speak to your betters!" Fierre roars self righteously.

"What makes you think your worth my time eh? if you beat me you'll be known throughout the English isles as a right scrapper. But what do I get hm?" He says watching him like he were a fly heading for a spiders web.

"You may name your prize, though here victory is usually considered its own reward" Fierre says foolishly having always been used to his opponents just asking for gold.

"Well I'm not from around here, and I've never gotten into a fight over anything I didn't... want" He says flashing a big grin revealing a gold front tooth. "So my prize will be... you" He says springing the trap

"er... me? what do you... mean?" Fierre responds perplexed

"oh come on your parents must've taught you about the birds and the bees no?" Roth chuckles finding Fierre's innocence rather cute

"your... gonna do that to me?! you bloody ruffian I am not some whore for you to have your way with and throw away when your done. I am the lord of this house and when I've beaten you I shall stuff those words back into your filthy mouth. Or maybe ill just kill you for your insolence"

"ooo gotta a bit of bite have we, well I don't take threats to my life lightly so I shall not go easy on you, in fact I intend to fuck your ass into the dirt when I win. teach you a right lesson you little Brat!" Roth says throwing his last insult to get Fierre's blood boiling