“Come at Me, Brethren!”: A Gentlemen’s Midnight Discord Here in this Merry Tavern

“Come at me, brethren!”

As this simple invitation escapes my lips steadfast and with fervor, I know with certainty a gentlemen’s discord is nigh. I shall regale you of this tale from its beginning, but know it is a tale pregnant with rancor and violence.

On this fine summer’s eve, I sit joyously in the local tavern with my female companion and three comrades, each of whom sits adjacent to a female companion of his own. We drink of our spirits in celebration, as earlier our local sporting team hath proven victorious over another. “Huzzah!” we exclaim. “Huzzah!” once more, this time whilst pressing the flesh of our palms together in a sign of brotherhood.

Mine companion, Abigail — whose wide-set hips, generous bust and wealthy lineage will one day render her a fine and supple wife — travels forth to the barkeep for yet another ale.

After but a moment I exclaim to my compatriots, “What is here!?” A gentleman not familiar to me approaches dear Abigail from afar with great swagger in his step and lust in his heart.

His coif slicked back with a gelatin of some nature; his trousers bedazzled with crystal o’re the pocket hem. His shirt’s neck, jutting down in the shape of a deep “V,” reveals great upper-body…