A Challenge

Banarius was as an ogre among minotaurs, standing a head and a half taller than normal, but built out broad like a door might. Inside his plate, the rippling of...

His RUSTY plate. Where the plates joined, where the contoured muscles formed deep ridges, the dark brown rust gathered.

"You look overly stressed." he said to me.

"Your armor." I said. "It's..."

He chuckled. "I know. In my youth, I would have taken pride in it. I would want to die looking well."

"You aren't even that old." I said. "A decade or so into your adulthood, from the looks of it."

He spat to one side. "Oh, it may not be today, and it may not be you, but I have known for years that I will die upon these sands, for some petty claim or other of my wife."

I blinked.