DIMES
Retired troll
The young squire Jordan Clarkson searched the remains of the battlefield in a panic. An hour had passed, but more of the same. Fire, blood, groans and fallen comrades. He waded through the lifeless sea of yellow and black wondering if anyone from either side had survived the battle. He had just made it to the top of a small hill overlooking the carnage when he saw something in the distance, a particularly prominent mound of humanity near a large tree caught the young one's attention. After a quick crossover, he hastily rode to it to confirm his worst fear.
That was when he saw it, a hand from under the heap still gripping the handle of a sword with a gold lion insignia on the hilt. "My Lord!" Clarkson scrambled to pull the lifeless bodies of the assassins sent to kill the King during the battle from the heap. The Sky Rider Victor Oladipo, The Fool Lance Stevenson, and The Foreigner, Domantas Sabonis. An incredible fight had taken place here. Clarkson's eyes welled with tears as he gazed upon the beaten and bloodied body of his hero and leader. How did it come to this? How could it be over? He spotted a cloaked rider in the corner of his eye watching him from a distance. He paid him no mind. The moment he bowed his head in prayer, a cough and gasp for air interrupted his misery. Grief had turned to elation in an instant as the Great King sat up and caught his breath. "My Lord, what happened here??" The squire had not yet grasped that Lebron had handled the situation in the only way a warrior king can when backed into a corner. As the King began to get his bearings, the cloaked rider in the distance took off in a hurry. "MyLord there's a rider getting away. Shall I purs-" "No!", the king interrupted. He crawled to base of the tree and sat up against it. "Let him go. Heh... I now understand what is happening."
In a land far away, the cloaked rider pushed open the door to a great hall. "Lord Derozan, Sir Lowry ... the King lives..."
Let’s go home, brothers
That was when he saw it, a hand from under the heap still gripping the handle of a sword with a gold lion insignia on the hilt. "My Lord!" Clarkson scrambled to pull the lifeless bodies of the assassins sent to kill the King during the battle from the heap. The Sky Rider Victor Oladipo, The Fool Lance Stevenson, and The Foreigner, Domantas Sabonis. An incredible fight had taken place here. Clarkson's eyes welled with tears as he gazed upon the beaten and bloodied body of his hero and leader. How did it come to this? How could it be over? He spotted a cloaked rider in the corner of his eye watching him from a distance. He paid him no mind. The moment he bowed his head in prayer, a cough and gasp for air interrupted his misery. Grief had turned to elation in an instant as the Great King sat up and caught his breath. "My Lord, what happened here??" The squire had not yet grasped that Lebron had handled the situation in the only way a warrior king can when backed into a corner. As the King began to get his bearings, the cloaked rider in the distance took off in a hurry. "MyLord there's a rider getting away. Shall I purs-" "No!", the king interrupted. He crawled to base of the tree and sat up against it. "Let him go. Heh... I now understand what is happening."
In a land far away, the cloaked rider pushed open the door to a great hall. "Lord Derozan, Sir Lowry ... the King lives..."
Let’s go home, brothers
static elbow 
