Yeah, bbq! Excellent updates I have read with great pleasure. You really are getting better and better.

I made my way through the euphoric throng of Ashlanders and toward the ashkhan’s yurt. Raising my hand, I motioned for the crowd to be silent. Then, I rapped gently upon the outer wall to ask permission to enter his abode.

“Come in,” I heard a voice call out from inside. I ducked beneath the low-hanging door and entered.

Sul-Matuul was sitting in his chair with his back facing the door. Neither of us said anything. We savored the glorious silence for a moment before the khan turned and faced me.

"You have passed the Third Trial. Before you lies the Fourth Trial, and the Fifth Trial. I have spoken with Nibani Maesa, and I know these Trials. You wish to be called Urshilaku Nerevarine. But first, would you hear the counsel of Sul-Matuul?"

I shook my head – not in refusal, but in amazement. “I spoke to her…to Peakstar. I spoke with all of them – the spirits of those who came before me and failed. They all seemed to say the same thing. That I am to unite the people of Veloth under one banner. That I am to be their war leader, not only on the battlefield, but in their hearts as well. That it is I, above all others, who is fit and destined to do this. I am a soldier, but…I’m only one man. I am not a demigod. To do this, I am going to have to be not just a warrior, but a diplomat as well. I have no idea of how to even begin going about this task. The weight of an entire nation rests on my shoulders. Of course I will hear your council. I need it now more than ever.”

"Good,” he said. “First, I would give you warning. When you are called 'Nerevarine,' the word must spread, and many must hear. Your enemies will hear, and come seeking your blood. And such friends as you may have among the Great Houses, those who heed the words of the Temple, they may forget their love for you. If you have business with the People of the Houses and Temple, you may wish to conduct that business first, before you are named 'Nerevarine.'”

“My business with them can be considered finished. Let them despise me if they wish. Whatever it is I must do, I intend to see it through. I will continue to push forward until none are left who deny me. All I ask is that you tell me where to push, and how…and I will be the leader you need.”

Chapter X

It had been three days since my confrontation with Ri’Darsha. I had taken that time to prepare my approach to the castle. I had gathered a small group of the best soldiers under my command. I had conspired with officials to keep it under wraps. But I could not do it through mere force of arms alone. I needed a sorcerer’s help.

So I decided to go to an old friend for help: Divayth Fyr. If anyone knew a way I could get an edge over the king, it was him. And so I made the long and arduous journey across the waters of Zafirbel Bay and up the great mushroom tower Tel Fyr. I floated up through the central shaft and landed gently on the top floor.

I entered quietly. He was sitting at his desk, poring over a piece of parchment that appeared to be several centuries old.

“Good day to you, Lord Fyr,” I said. “May I have a word with you?”

Divayth sighed. “More interruptions…who is it this time?” He looked up from his work, his eyes glaring with an obsessive passion that clashed with his weathered face. “Oh…it’s you again. I’m sorry, but I’m rather busy right now. Whatever you want, it’ll have to wait for some other time.”

“I’m afraid it can’t,” I said, reaching into my pack. “I have brought you a gift.” I pulled a copious number of Dwemer books and schematics out of my bag and set them on his desk. “I thought you might find these interesting.”

The old wizard looked over the ancient texts I had given them, briefly perusing their content. “Fascinating…these texts appear to date to the time of Kagrenac himself! Thank you very much for giving me these. I cannot refuse such a generous houseguest. Now, what have you come to talk with me about?”

“Do you know of any practical way to teleport large numbers of people all at once? Say…a couple hundred or so?”

“Hmm…might I ask why you would need to do such a thing, or would I regret asking?”

“Let’s just say that it’s some fairly personal business and leave it at that.”

“Very well. In any case, I don’t think it’s possible. Unless you had some sort of powerful artifact that had that ability to begin with, but I really don’t know of any with that kind of power.”

“Wait…I think I have something that might work, with a bit of tweaking.” I fumbled around in my pockets. “Ah…here it is! Barilzar’s Mazed Band! It’s an odd little artifact that I encountered during the…incident in Mournhold.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Lord Fyr replied. “Might I have a look at it?”

“Yes, certainly.” I handed it to him.

Divayth brought the ring up to his face to get a closer look at it. “Hmm…yes…a very interesting enchantment indeed. I can sense much darkness inside it…like the work of some unnatural force or revenant. Fitting, seeing as how that’s exactly what it is. As for the effects themselves, though…I’m not sure if they can be strengthened at all, I’m afraid.”

“Almalexia seemed to be able to do it.”

“Almalexia? What are you talking about?”

I told him the story of what had happened in Mournhold – the attack of the fabricants, her descent into madness, and the death of Sotha Sil. He just sat there, nodding all the while. And once I had finished, he still remained silent, quietly mulling over what I had just said.

At last, the wizard spoke. “Quite a fantastic tale, Lord Grignr. Rather difficult to believe, actually. But I believe it. And what’s more, I think I have the solution to your problem. I believe Almalexia must have used some of the remnants of her divine essence to imbue the Mazed Band with this power. Once she was killed, the essence and power of the artifact waned. My guess is that if we restore the ring’s connection to the divine, we can regain the power that it lost. If we obtain a substance of a divine nature – say, the blood of a Daedra Lord – it might be possible to recreate that bond, if only for a short while.”

“And how exactly are we going to go about doing that?” I asked.

“Leave that to me. You needn’t worry about it – I have everything I need right here.” He gestured toward an oddly-shaped Daedric axe resting on one of his shelves. It looked for all the world like a sharp-winged bat at the end of a rod. “Meet me here tomorrow. I shall have the Band ready for you then.”

“Thank you, Lord Fyr. You are a good friend.”

And so, I left his central chambers with a great sense of anticipation. My plan was slowly beginning to crystallize. Soon, my loyal troops would be materializing by the hundreds outside the King’s doorstep. Tomorrow I would have justice. Tomorrow, I would take my vengeance.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 21 2008, 08:17 AM

Awesome. Divayth Fyr plays the Mad Scientist role quite well.

I've got to say I'm glad to be back here on the forums, and one of the main reasons is this story. Keep up the good work, bbq: I really want to see how a showdown with Helseth would work out.

Thanks. I'm just glad my story is entertaining people - especially good writers like you and Blackie (who, along with the guy who wrote this story, inspired me to start this). Rest assured that you'll see the rest of it very soon. I may even get an update in tonight, if I find the time.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Oct 2 2008, 02:28 AM

Down the streets of Mournhold we marched – down the white marble steps of the Temple and through the courtyard as hundreds of astonished onlookers looked on. It was a terrible and awe-inspiring display – three hundred soldiers marching beneath the banner of the Moon and Star, appearing as if out of nowhere. And behind them, the most terrifying sight of all – a horde of verminous fabricants, each moving in unison, row by row. A few citizens cheered. Most were dead silent. The Ordinators seemed indifferent. They all knew why I had come. And I had not come to negotiate.

We halted briefly before the gate to the palace courtyard. Four men – two to my right and two to my left, broke rank and moved to open the massive bronze doors.

“Hundreds of men…” I heard a familiar voice remark quietly behind me. “…simply walking right up to the King’s front doorstep. Not much for subtlety, are you, sera?”

Almost in spite of myself, I grinned. “Might I remind you, Doren, that you volunteered to lead this column?”

“Yes, I remember. And I am ready to stand and die in your service, before the enemy and before the executioner. And there isn’t a man here who doesn’t feel the same way.”

“I know, Tedril. I know. Let’s hope this plan works.”

Once the gates had been opened, we poured in and lined up in front of the palace, maintaining formation – shieldsmen in front, archers behind, with the mindless fabricants lined up to barricade the gates, their metallic bodies pressed together like a gleaming silvery mass beneath the midday sun.

Helseth’s guards were too few to stop us. We had come without warning – they had no time to prepare. But I knew they weren’t going to let us in if we asked politely. A few of the guards ran back inside, presumably to warn the king about the army standing right outside his palace. The handful of archers on the ramparts drew their bows and notched their arrows, but held their fire, as if expecting that I would not have the courage to fire first. Their naiveté would prove to be their undoing. I raised my hand to signal the archers to ready themselves.

This was it. I was about to break the law – commit treason against the crown, against the Empire. I hesitated only briefly. “Shoot to wound, if possible,” I said, my voice barely loud enough for my men to hear me. Then, I dropped my hand to my side. “FIRE!”

A hail of arrows flew toward their targets – both on the ground and on the balcony. They fired back, and a few of their arrows found their targets. But they were dropping like flies – this was a rout. I imagined that that would change once we got inside unless we moved quickly.

“Center column, FORWARD!” I cried. “Left and right flank, surround the castle! Block all exits! Move, move, move!”

I charged at the head of the column toward the entrance while the other columns moved abreast with us. A lone, disparate guard took up his sword in desperation, aiming for me. I cut him down with a single strike.

Helseth’s guards didn’t even have the time to barricade the front entrance. The way we walked in, it was almost like we had been invited.

“Alright, men, you know the drill. Most of you will be clearing out the palace and causing as much havoc as you can. You’ll do your damndest to make sure there is neither an escape nor an organized counterattack. All except Doren’s platoon. You will come with me. Understood?”

The men all nodded in unison.

“Good. Let’s move out then.”

We split up, and I began to make my way up the stairs.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 21 2008, 08:20 AM

Bold, if risky. He has certainly already condemned Helseth in his mind, and many innocent guards along with him. I do hope he doesn't come to regret the choice he has made here today.

Well, he'd hardly be able to get what he wanted otherwise. The king's surrounded by guards, after all. He wouldn't give him any straight answers if he weren't forced to. That being said, this is ballsy at best and foolhardy at worst. And Grignr certainly knows it. Crap, I've said too much, I think. I should let the story do the talking.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Oct 3 2008, 01:44 AM

Very dramatic, but full of vitality. It lives! Keep up the good things.

I'm reading as fast as I can, while still taking the time to savor the excellence.... This story has just been placed on my "Must Read" list.

I especially like the fact that you work within the framework of Morrowind, but deal with the "and what happened then" aftermath.

A joy to read.

This post has been edited by treydog: Oct 7 2008, 11:36 PM

Awesome update bbp. Only a nord would try and march an army by teleport. Only a nord.

Of course, if Ulf was doing this he'd probably butcher the entire garrison and then get overexcited and battleaxe Helseth anyway.

Me likey even more....being a "nord" myself I do enjoy reading about them.

Ehhh....More please?

Three dozen men ascended the staircase behind me, marching three by three. To our left, I could hear frantic movement and attempts at preparation from behind the door to the Royal Guard’s quarters. Fortunately, I had prepared for this situation. I focused my mind upon the door lock and used one of the few spells I knew to engage the lock mechanism. It was a fairly feeble enchantment, but it would keep them busy for long enough to get the job done.

I signaled my men to keep moving. The entrance to the throne room was in sight when suddenly, the door opened. Out of it poured about dozen Royal Guards wielding ebony scimitars. Strangely, neither their captain nor their former champion was with them. This was a ploy to stall for time.

Sadly, these guards would have to die. I pulled out my Daedric longbow and strung my arrow. The bare handful of archers I had brought with me followed suit, letting forth a volley upon the advancing enemies. Sometimes, archers could be useful even in close quarters. This was one of those occasions.

The arrows struck their targets, easily penetrating the Royal Guardsmen’s armor. At least half of this token force had already been taken out. Now they were outnumbered six-to-one. The few that remained did not even pause for a moment. They charged head-on into certain death. Two of them seemed to be making a beeline for me.

It was their only option – the only other choice was to be mowed down by arrows. They chose to sacrifice themselves and take out as many of us as they could. It’s what I would have done. I raised my shield and prepared to face them with a mixture of admiration and regret in my heart. Such magnificent valor…

They came straight at me at full speed, paying no heed to their flank or defense. They knew they would be dead in seconds, so they went straight for the killing blow, attempting to take me out and end the threat. One tried for the head, while the other made a lunging downward blow in the direction of my midsection.

CLANG! My shield connected with the first blow. The other hit its target, but was ill-delivered and was absorbed by my heavy armor. Soldiers to my left and right quickly stepped forward and stabbed them in the back. The rest were finished off fairly quickly.

As soon as the battle was over, I made my way to the main chamber door. I tried to turn the handle, but to no avail. The door was locked. As I fumbled around in my pack, I turned to Doren, who was quickly looking over the men that had been wounded.

“How are we on casualties?” I asked him.

“Pretty light. One dead, three walking wounded. More than I’d want, but not enough to slow us down.”

“Good. If they can walk, they can walk alongside us. Here, give them these.” I pulled out three vials and tossed them to Doren.

I then pressed my finger to the keyhole. The blessings of the stars surged through my hand and into the lock mechanism. It opened with a soft click. Once again, the Tower gave me aid when I needed it.

I threw open the door and entered, while my men came pouring in behind me. At least sixteen guards waited inside, standing firmly with swords drawn, determined not to give up an inch of ground. At their head stood two formidable opponents indeed – their captain, Tienius Delitian, wielding a formidable enchanted dai-katana, and their champion, Karrod, standing as large and intimidating as always. No question about it – Helseth had left his best to try to fight us off. Victory was far from guaranteed.

I called back to the rear guard in the room behind me. “Send for reinforcements!”

The guards advanced in a line in an effort to encircle us and neutralize our numbers. We had them outnumbered, but only just. Not everyone could fit into the encirclement, and there was no room for archers. Delitian was walking directly toward me, staring intensely, his nostrils flared.

“This ends HERE!” he snarled.

“Well, there’s something we BOTH can agree on!” I shot back.

Delitian growled and let loose a mighty swing of his massive sword…

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 18 2008, 05:46 AM

Bravo. An exciting update.

Delitian's sword slashed into the soldier next to me, cutting clean through his bonemold armor…and the rest of him as well, losing not a bit of momentum as it did so. Fortunately, I was ready with my shield, leaning toward the blade to absorb the bruising heavy blow. The sound rose far above even the furious clashes of metal against metal that filled the room. It was rivaled only by the fast and desperate duel of Doren and Karrod to my right.

I lunged forward and made my counterattack while Delitian’s blade was still pinned down by my side. But the captain gracefully hopped back and out of the way…mostly. Trueflame scratched through the armor in his gauntlet and damaged his wrist. Small but intense embers engulfed his entire right hand. He released his grip with that hand and howled in pain.

But then, before I could capitalize, he gripped his hand around the hilt once more, his face showing more determination than ever. There was a look of madness in his eyes as he shifted to attack once more. He was operating on pure adrenaline now. Though blood now soaked the hilt of his sword, he continued to come out swinging.

I prepared to block his strike once again, crouching low to better be able to resist the impact. Almost immediately, however, I began to regret it. The captain was angling his strike – it was coming in too high. Instinctively, I recoiled, backing off as much as I could in the instant before the impending impact. The attack missed my jugular by mere fractions of a hairlength.

Suddenly, Tienius lost control of his sword. The blood from his wounded hand had made the hilt slippery and difficult to hold. It slipped from out of his hands and went flying off into the crowd of soldiers. The hilt struck Doren in the small of his back, causing him to stumble…right into Karrod’s protruding sword. I watched as my lieutenant and trusted friend dropped to his knees, his eyes filled with agony, shock, and horror…and then onto his stomach, right beside the massive dai-katana that had brought about his downfall.

“TEDRIL!” I cried. “NOOOOOOO!”

Furious, I swept my blade in an aggressive arc, slicing off the captain’s head and making a motion toward Karrod’s torso. The King’s Champion, however, was prepared. He held fast with his sword and parried my attack. Though I continued my aggressive and forward strikes, he would invariably block and counter with his own.

We continued to trade blows in this fashion for well over half a minute – an eternity in swordfighting. It seemed this duel between us would last longer than our previous one if one of us didn’t act soon.

I remembered what Imsin had taught me, back during my earliest lessons from the master-at-arms. It was a lesson I had heard before, but she taught it so well that it stuck with me through all my travels – like all my memories of her. ”A mighty warrior uses his own strength to overcome the adversary. A wise one uses his adversary’s strength and through it creates weakness.”

Another strike was incoming – aimed for my upper body this time. But rather than deflect it directly, I took a quick step sideways, ducking slightly, with my shield perpendicular to my chest. Almost like a dancer I got myself out of the chief target, as I moved my shield behind the blade, pushing it farther and faster in the direction of the blow.

Karrod stumbled – his stance was now unbalanced; his right flank exposed. I pounced at the opportunity, running him all the way through. He collapsed into a massive, wheezing heap, blood pouring from the wound. The rest of the battle was not going well for the king’s guards, either – to my left and to my right, my men had gained the upper hand. The battle would be over in less than a minute. But the King was nowhere to be found.

I looked down at the fallen Redguard. He was wounded and bleeding heavily, but still alive and conscious – a testament to his great strength. I thought, briefly, about striking him down - killing him in retribution for what had happened to one of the only true friends I had left; one who had fought beside me so many times. Or better yet, leaving him to bleed to death and suffer for what he had done. It would be so easy to do it now...

I knew, though, that it was not the wise nor the morally right course of action. This was a man who could tell me where the King was hiding. And I knew I wouldn't be able to torture it out of him, as tempting as it seemed. However little I knew of him, I knew that he was loyal and honor-bound. He reminded me, in many ways, of Doren - as well as Captain Carius, Percius Mercius and a host of other good and brave fighting men I had befriended. And Imsin...she, too was such a soldier. Too many such men had already died today. I could not let it happen. For in his eyes I saw his soul. And in his soul I saw my own.

I knew the extent to which Karrod would adhere to his promises. But I also knew that he honored those men he respected. And he seemed to respect me. I had to talk to him.

“Karrod,” I said to him. “I know that you do not speak. But you’ve spoken to me. I know you are a good and loyal soldier. I will save your life if you tell me but one more thing – where your King has gone. You can even keep your sword.”

“How…how do you know…that I won’t just – koff! – turn right around and…kill as many of your men as I can?” he croaked.

“Because…” I said, staring deeply into the man’s eyes, “…you’re going to promise me that you won’t. Do you promise, Karrod?”

“You…are an honorable man, Lord Grignr,” he said quietly. “And so am I. I promise…and I will…keep my…w-w…word…” His eyes began to become glazed and unfocused.

I knelt beside him and held out my enchanted shield. “Quickly, grab this! Do it now!”

Karrod clutched desperately to the side of the Ward.

“Focus…!”

He shut his eyes and furrowed his brow. Slowly, the blood flow subsided, and the coughing stopped. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

I gave a silent prayer of thanks to whichever gods were listening. I then proceeded to question him. “Now...there must be a switch somewhere around here that opens an escape route. Where is it?"

“On the bottom side of the throne, below the cushions.”

“Really…” I commented. “How prosaic.”

“It gets the job done…well, it used to, anyway.”

It was a joke, of sorts. I didn't laugh. Neither did he.

“Well...I have...business I need to attend to now. Farewell, my friend.”

“Good bye,” said Karrod. “And…thank you.”

I kept walking, ducking under the throne to flip the switch. But as I did, I couldn't help but think of Tedril Doren - of all the people who had died to help secure my vendetta, and I wondered...was it all worth it?

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 28 2008, 10:10 PM

Good update, different than your usual writing but its good all the same. I will say I have two small gripes though.

During the fight it says that Doren became unbalanced and fell onto Karrod's sword...then the character cries out the wrong name...at least thats how I understood it.

Also, after losing such a close friend the end of this update seems too lighthearted, almost playful actually so I just found it a bit odd. Just my two cents mate, other than that it was written well and flowed smooth all throughout my guess is that you edited this quite a bit to get it how you liked it and missed a few minor details along the way. Am I right?

This post has been edited by Kiln: Oct 29 2008, 06:27 PM

Well, actually, Tedril is Doren's first name. So there was actually no error there.

And I think that ultimately, I wanted to show that Grignr is still, at this point, capable of some degree of compassion and respect - if only for a very few people. He wants to believe that things like law and honor still exist, at least in some places. Also, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off big, mute, lovable Karrod. Perhaps it's a character flaw on my part.

I took a look at your criticism, though, and I realized that I didn't really provide a reason why Grignr would keep Karrod alive. Apparently, I just felt it was a natural progression of how someone like Grignr would view that sort of soldier. In any case, I decided to edit the update to include that missing explanation in as non-intrusive a way as possible, and convey some self-doubt as well.

Not to worry, there'll be plenty of anger and righteous fury in the next update (whenever that comes - with my schedule, it could be tomorrow, or it could be three weeks from now).

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Oct 29 2008, 10:07 PM

Well I wasn't trying to annoy you mate, just thought I'd leave some feedback to tell you I like it. I don't know how I missed that guy's first name though...

*Goes to re-read*

I know you weren't trying to knock me. I like constructive feedback, even if it has some criticism in it. Hell, your comments actually helped me out in this case. I realized the segment wasn't as complete as it should have been. And in all fairness, Doren's first name was only mentioned a couple times in the first and second chapter.

NOTE: Big update here. I've chosen to split it into two parts for easier reading.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I walked, past the throne and over the bloody pile of corpses that were chaotically strewn across the floor, over to a section of stone that had pushed away from the wall. There I stood, for a split second that felt like an eternity, wondering if I ought to proceed. Of the thirty-six men I had brought with me to the throne room, thirteen were now dead. How many more would it be?

In the past, I would have looked to Doren, or even to Imsin for advice. But there was no one now. Any strength I had ever derived from them was gone. And this made me angrier than ever. I was motivated now only by anguish and rage.

I signaled for half my remaining men to follow me as I ducked beneath the entrance. It was a tight corridor, wide enough to accommodate only one man at a time, leading to a dimly torchlit staircase. Oddly, the passageway was bereft of even a single guard to slow us down. We must have caught the King so far off guard that he didn’t have any additional guards to spare from his escorts. We moved single-file, as quickly as possible. We could not let the King escape.

A short jaunt down the narrow staircase revealed…a dead end, except for a wooden hatch on the floor. It seemed the King was headed for the sewers – just as I suspected. Fortunately, I had prepared a surprise for him.

About forty-five seconds of work was enough to take care of the lock, and descend through the hatch. One by one we crawled through, and into yet another passage below. This one was even narrower than the last – so much so that I did not walk down it so much as I shuffled sideways. The collective breath of my men and I heated up the narrow space. I could hear footsteps interrupted by the clanging of swords from outside the hallway. This passageway was literally located inside the walls!

The shufflespace quickly gave way to yet another staircase; this one far longer than the previous one. The steps here were angled, clear-cut, uniform – unworn by the eroding influence of time. They were clearly much younger than the rest of the castle. Helseth must have ordered this escape route himself. In near-darkness, we descended. Well-cut stone gave way to smooth, worn rock. The air began to take on that familiar dank, stale feeling. We were entering the sewers.

A magical illusory stone wall was all that stood between us and the sewers. I quickly discovered its secret and passed straight through it.

And there, standing not fifteen feet in front of me, was King Helseth, crouching in terror before a host of fabricants, who stood in line in front of him, lined side by side, blocking his path. The entire host of bodyguards he had brought with him had been killed, presumably in an effort to break though their ranks.

“Ah…Your Majesty,” I said, mock-bowing to the wretched monarch. “A pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise,” the King replied sarcastically.

I turned back to my men. “Leave us,” I ordered. “Go back to the chamber.”

The men stared at each other for a moment, and then, slowly and reluctantly, turned back to ascend the staircase. Now it was just him and me.

“Well, why don’t we do a bit of catching up? Discuss your motivations…your ambitions…the incredibly short amount of time left in your life. Or better yet…let’s talk about my family, shall we? You know it’s been such a very long time since we’ve spoken…Your Majesty.”

“Not nearly long enough…Lord Nerevar,” he snarled.

“Really? Pity. You’d think we’d be on such good terms, given all the things I’ve done for you. The errands I’ve run, rivals and dissenters I’ve helped you put down…and I asked for nothing in return. Oh, wait. That’s not entirely true. I DID ask you to LEAVE ME ALONE!”

As I said this, I unsheathed my sword. “And you’d THINK that a sensible person such as yourself would realize the importance of KEEPING that promise! What I want to know is…WHY DIDN’T YOU!? WHY did my wife have to die? WHY must you toy with people’s lives? And most importantly, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY DAUGHTER!?”

Helseth glared at me, his eyes conveying an icy fury. “I do not know where your daughter is, nor do I care. I have nothing to say to you, s'wit. I will not answer the inquiries of one who betrays his country. You threaten my throne. You sow discord among the people of Morrowind. You would bring civil war to the doorstep of every citizen loyal to your usurpation.”

“If I sought your throne, Helseth, I would have brought seven thousand men, not three hundred,” I growled. “I seek vengeance – no, more than that. I seek justice upon a king who treats his subjects as expendable assets. And if I have to bring about your death to get it, then I gladly welcome it.”

The king’s nostrils flared – his blood now seemed to be literally boiling, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and thinly masked fear. “Back down, you rash, imprudent fool! For the sake of your worthless life, if nothing else! You are committing treason! Your thoughts, your actions, and your very breath defile the law!”

“To HELL with the law!”

I brought the full fury of Trueflame down upon him. But he was prepared with a sword of his own. Our blades clashed together and the battle began as the thoughtless fabricants looked on.

The King was a better swordsman than I expected. Not as good as I was, but he knew how to use his longsword. More importantly, he did not tire. I knew this would be the case – as long as he wore his signet ring, he was all but unbeatable. I would have to find a way to remove that ring.

Unfortunately, I could not seem to get a good attack in on his wrist. His hand just could not keep still. His wrist seemed to always be at an appropriate angle, bent inward or thrust outward in such a way that it could not be reached. It seemed I would never get a good shot at it…unless I tried something desperate.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Dec 6 2008, 05:57 AM