My contribution to Fight Day-Sir Hector and the Flaming Underpants Guy with a Big Knife!

I see that it is fight description day at Aspirations. Bethany is following is following a writer's blogfest thing at Crimson Ink. Click on the link for more fight scenes. From just a quick glance, there may be boobies! There are always a lot of boobies in science fiction and fantasy writing. I guess they write it just because they can, but it seems the the costumes would be impractical for actual use. It reminds me of a story this old farmer told me about delivering hay to a family of nudists. He was invited in for breakfast and gave me a glowing description of the 17-year-old daughter coming down the stairs, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, buck naked. Unfortunately, I was distracted by the idea of her mother who was frying bacon. Who would fry bacon naked? It seems dangerous, if not kind of uncomfortable. I do tend to turn the heat up too much, but those little grease pops would hurt.
But, I digress...

I have contributed a fight of my own. Somewhat of a classic struggle inspired by my daughters collection of Marx knights.... No offense intended towards any infidels...

Sir Hector brandished the gleaming sword of truth against the cruel curved scimitar of the evil Sultan. Sparks flew from the clashing blades. The evil grin of the infidel widened and his evil red eyes glowed from an inhuman fury.
The malefic malodorous madman fought with a fury from the very bowels of hell. Strange cries of fury escaped from his lips as he rained blows upon Sir Hectors shield of virtue.
The assault of vicious venomance caused the brave knight to fall back and with an inhuman cry of savage fury the Sultan pressed his attack, striking a slashing blow to Sir Hector's shoulder.
Undaunted by the fury of the pagan's rancor, but struck by the pain of his malevolent maceration, Sir Hector struck with his sword of virtue, the polished steel of the blessed blade caught the rays of the blood red sun and a perfect cross of truth was formed by the reflection as it sliced into the pestulent  flesh of the turbaned malefactor.
With a savage cry the Sultan through down his weapon and pulled from his robes, a Zippo lighter emblazoned with the figure of Betty Boop. With a cry of death to the Infidel he pulled a length of fuse from his underpants and applied the flickering flame. With an inhuman giggle he began a strange dance, a dance of death, with flaming underpants.
Undaunted the brave Sir Hector drew his M1911 Colt .45 with narry a hesitation pulled the trigger, sending the wrath of John Browning into the ulcerous flesh of the fizzling madman.
Then he turned and ran.
This was somewhat of an inglorious end to the fight as the Sultan had not quite mixed his chemicals correctly and his malodorous corpse was now smoldering and smoking.
Sir Hector checked to make sure no one had seen his hasty retreat from the potential explosion of the insane Sultan, and continued on his quest for the Blessed Relic of St. Francis of the Fields.