“So you’re the best fighter in the world, huh?” Definitely sneering, but somewhat…placid. Thas decided to indulge him.
“No, I’m not.” Thas continued his stare into the mug of ale before him.
The stranger at the bar looked puzzled. “But, are you not a Warrior Shaman? Those, those whirlwinds of death and nature?”
“Yes, I am.” Thas looked into the man’s eyes. He knew the storm cataract was glowing, but the stranger didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Then you have some explaining to do.”
Thas looked up, blinked once. “There was a time when I fought an especially fierce knight. Exhausted, I had not the strength to call to Melias, and I had been bested in martial combat. I stood before him, disarmed. I looked him in the eye through his helmet’s visor and simply stated, ‘I forgive you.’ And I awaited death. Hands palm out, down at my sides.”
The stranger leaned in, baffled and amazed.
“The knight stood, saluted me, and sheathed his weapon. He bowed once, turned, and left the chamber where he had cornered me. I never saw him again.”