Two honorable family men.
Both forced into less than honorable positions by their own misguided beliefs.
Both formidable fighters, both capable of leveling entire battlefields by themselves.
There was only one solution to this match.
---
"Brother, next time...you really shouldn't take up the offer of a drinking game. Not when it's made by someone three times your size." Alma noted softly, as the massively hung-over Zalbag staggered out of the infirmary.
"I didn't...didn't think I'd...get...alcohol poisoning...though...and you don't have to scream..." Zalbag said, weaving unsteadily.
