Crimson Talon - An Uruk Dominion tale

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Fifty Four





A woman's only defense is her privacy.
-Vespa of Avalon



The garden was a subtle statement of Dominion power. She smelled of wild roses and hidden plots, just like the ladies attending the secret meeting.
Freshly perfumed slaves were bringing in the appetizers. The noble women took a break from discussing private matters and switched to trivialities more suited for intruding ears.
'It was Medusa who first said it, you know.' Vespa of Avalon, the former wife of Alpha Argus, continued. 'Not Heidindrudis.'
'Do refresh our memories, Mistress.' pleaded Zoranna, wife of Draganos Hades. 'I'm afraid we, young maidens do not know our history so well.'
Vespa hid her disgust behind the wine chalice. She never could stand the Uruk females. They smelled and acted like mountain gorillas.
' I'm sure you remember the saying 'How nice that you named a city after me, wish you would've placed my son on the throne instead.' It wasn't Heidindrudis talking about her son, it was Medusa pleading with the others to instate Arcadius as Alpha. She had at the time given up on trying to convince him.'
The others chuckled, filling the garden with their voices.
'Arcadius didn't desire the throne. But he gave us Ibellica instead. Like my husband will give us Avalon.'
Zoranna grinned, waiting for a reaction.
'My hardy islanders don't quit. All you managed to do is get yourselves in a war that will last for centuries.'
Vespa was the most powerful human woman inside the Dominion and still her stomach tensed when she saw how her kind were being treated inside the Dominion.
Her status as Alpha widow gave her the right to speak in front of Uruk females but it was of little comfort.
'Then we shall scour that place clean.' Zoranna Hades took a sip from her iced tea and smiled. 'You forget we are bred for war.'
'Even giants can die.' the widow quoted one of the False Alphas*.
There was no love lost between the two. Once, Vespa of Avalon was proud of her lineage. Now she was telling the truth, just to see the faces of her companions change.
'I heard there's been another attempt on poor Wilelda.' Agnes the Snob intervened, trying to break the tension. 'They haven't caught the culprit.'
At only seventeen, Agnes was already a mother. She was suckling her cub right at the table, without any regard for royal decorum.
This displeased her mother greatly.
Things would've been different in Avalon, Vespa thought.
'Old news, sister. Maybe if you would leave the nursery from time to time, you would know more about what's going on in this world.'
Zoranna's remark fell on deaf ears.
'And leave my Theseus unattended?! Never!'
The Snob's chuckle was eclipsed by one of Theseus' growls. His grandmother shuddered. Zoranna noticed it at once.
'What's the matter, Mistress? One should think that, by now, you've grown accustomed to how an Uruk groans...'
'I bare no shame in my heart, lass. Argus was a good husband.'
Especially when he died.
Truly, the years have been kind to the noble widow and at fifty summers she looked almost thirty but still her youthful visage could not mask the contempt.
The others were always looking for a sign of weakness. But then again, she had played this role her whole life.
They call me Mistress as if to mock me, to show me that I'm inferior.
'Have they found your sons, my dear?' the old harpy bit back.
Zoranna's big black eyes glinted under the afternoon sun. She gave no sign of how much the question wounded her.
'My Drago is still out looking for them. We have scouts everywhere. My heart tells me they are still alive.'
The Alpha Widow relished in the grim silence that followed.
You always have to put the she-wolves back in their place or else..
'So, who wants more lemon-cakes?' exclaimed Bertrada Ugron, daughter of the late Alpha Heinz and Fay Hades.
'Me, me!' Agnes yelled out, like a child.
'Any news of Jubal, Mistress?' Zoranna regained the initiative.
It's true what they say about these Hadessa. They are vicious.
'He's still missing. They haven't found a corpse yet to match the description.'
Vespa's son, a handsome, cheerful lad, her light and joy, quite possibly the only good thing to ever come out of that monstrosity of a marriage was declared missing months ago. He was last seen up north, in Ibellica, fighting Conquistadors.
'I'd be careful with my tongue if I were you, girlie.'
'But you're not me, are you?'
Her contempt was evident. She was just begging to be slapped.
'If you think I'll let you ruin this dinner, you are sorely mistaken. I've seen your...'
'Zoranna...'
The shadow's entrance took them by surprise and they all screamed, high and low born ladies alike.
Just as the Alpha Widow was about to call in the Guard, the stranger revealed herself.

'Zoranna, your sons. I know where they are.' said Fay Hades.





*



The knight was muddied and alone.
The robbers thought it would be easy pickings. But he still had his sword.
Philipp of Austria cut all five of them down, in rapid succession, as they came, yelling down the hill. Living with vampires at night had made him more ruthless.
In fact, the Teuton was closer now to his destination than he'd ever been. The sea was in front of him.
Black and whispering of dead tales, the Sea of Souls was the only barrier standing between him and his homeland. Teutonic banners still lay everywhere.
A sign they left in a hurry, he thought, as he strolled down the beach.
He picked up a heavy shield, smeared with blood. A paw print was visible on its surface, where the Uruk stamped his bloody palm.
The bloody mark of the Beast.
There on the sands, he made a fire. Not for warmth, but for prayer.
The Teuton knelled down, next to a broken carriage and prayed. He prayed for the fallen brothers. He prayed that he would see Europa again. But mostly, he prayed for Mankind.
These are dark times we're living in.
It was getting dark. Time to find shelter. The changed Uruks were mostly active after dusk. That was when their hunger hit the strongest.
Somehow, he pitied the creatures. After killing his first one, Philipp grew accustomed to tracking the monsters himself. During the day he had an advantage. They could not touch him.
And he used the sun to get close to them. Somehow, no matter how many monsters perished by his blade, he could think of nothing but his Helga. Was she dead? Was she turned?
He had no idea. But he had to go on, for her sake. Some days, he would go out only to scream into the empty fields.
Philipp of Austria had tried to kill himself three times. Each time, an approaching danger stopped him in his tracks. For every vampire he destroyed, he would cut a line down his scabbard.
There were now one hundred seventy four lines.
In total, he'd kill twenty two humans, counting the marauders that tried to jump in.
At nights, he would often cry himself to sleep. The knight did not know sometimes why he even tried to go on.
The peasantry was mostly gone. It was a deserted island.
In truth, he hated Verstov. He hated its rat infested marshes, its corpse filled roads and deserted villages.
There was nothing on the island that did not want to kill you or ravish you. It was a cursed place.
Filled with monsters and one crazed knight.
He was going mad. There was no doubt about it. The more time he spend into the wilderness, feeding off of rabbits and squirrels, the more he was talking to himself. To his beloved Helga. The howling winds were his only company.
And at night, the monsters would come.
'Tonight's no different, old boy...' he said to the air as he dug the trench. 'Just like any night.'
The Teuton made a custom to booby trap his surroundings. It was the only way to halt intruders from killing him in his sleep.
He did not want to suffer the same fate as those vampires.
Philipp of Austria thought he had seen it all, but nothing could prepare him for what he saw next.
A sail.
A sail on the horizon. And there was a beacon on, signalling him to get ready.

Salvation.

A word he'd forgotten. The Teuton Knight yelled like mad, jumping up and down on the beach while throwing away his arms and mail.
Even if they were pirates, he'd welcomed them with open arms. There came a bark of rowers, a dozen or so and Philipp rushed to them, before they were even ashore.
The sailors were sun-burned and gazed at him with suspicious eyes.
Pagans, he thought. The kind that lived down in Syrianna.
But they took him in.
'Any human face is a blessing to the eyes!' he said to the unbelievers. 'Take me away from this wretched place!'
One of the strangers took off his helmet and revealed a monstrous face, with grizzly scared features.
'We're not taking you away. We're taking you back.'
Kubadai Achilleus gave a toothy smile as he observed the immense sadness in the Teuton's eyes.
'What's the matter, warrior? Don't you like my face?'



* Thesseus the Merciless: first Alpha to land in Mesocala, slain by Paynalis after his own troops deserted him;

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Fifty Six






The way of the Uruk is despair. Ten foes or more cannot kill such a warrior.
Common sense will not accomplish great things.
Simply be mad and desperate!
-Ugo Grim





Somewhere, up, in the mountains. Snow was covering the bodies, where they fell. Weapons gathered ice on them, frozen blades pointing to the skies.
'This is the place.' spoke the tallest of the Uruk Gans. 'This is where they lost it.'
They weren't on official business. But they were looking for the most precious object inside the Dominion.
'Are you sure, Kaar*?' inquired his friend. 'Perhaps the Mautor** lied to us.'
The giant snarled, throwing vapor out of his mouth.
'Trust me, Koth***. I know what I heard.'
Koth marched on, careful not to step on the corpses of his fallen brethren. There were Uruks all around, stretched out for a mile.
It was like three armies clashed there. And none of the soldiers survived.
'Anyway, we have more than enough equipment here.' joked Krur****,the freshest of them.
The other Gans paid no attention to him as they scouted the surroundings. Falling snow was mostly covering their tracks by now.
'Spare us your fresh-meat humor.' Kaar grunted. 'Just look for the sword.'
They left the Barracks together, in the middle of the night. The Mautor was off to the Capital, hunting for the Sons of Toke. Nobody will notice our absence, Kaar told them. We'll be back by dawn.
'I don't like this.'
The oldest of them was sniffing out the cold air as if sensing something.
'Nobody knows we're here, Kuf ****. Relax.'
'Somebody knows...' the veteran bared his teeth.
That's when they all saw it, standing upright on a cliff overlooking the pass. From where they were standing, the Gans couldn't tell if it was brute or man.
'What is it?' Koth demanded, already unsheathing his axe-sword.
'From this distance it could be a stinking Golug******.' Kaar tried to calm the spirits once again. 'I'm going to get closer.'
The silhouette stood still as if waiting.
'What if there's more of them?'
Krur's question forced all of them to go into battle formation. Back to back, the Gans waited in the falling snow.
'Such a perfect place to die...' Koth whispered.
'Shut it!' Kuf elbowed him in the ribs. 'Just kill them when they come.'
They waited, among the bodies of slain Uruks.
'Greetings!' they heard Kaar's voice up ahead. 'Are you the Mul-Gundul*******?'
He was close enough to recognize the other one as Gan. He had white long hair, all caught in a knot on top of his head. Kaar spread his arms wide.
'I am Kaar of the Fifth Legion. Maybe we're looking for the same thing. Come down, let's talk!'
So I can see what I'm dealing with.
'Are you looking for the Rudis?' the stranger spoke, his thick voice breaking apart into far flung echoes across the ice covered peaks.
'We are. The Alpha sends us.' lied Kaar.
To this, the stranger started to laugh. The sound of his laughter infuriated Kaar but he fought to hide it.
I must remain patient or else I'll never get my axe-sword into his skull.
'Do you want me to show you his official seal?'
The other one rose one hand into the air.
'No, I need no proof. You are not the only ones to come around these parts searching for it.'
Hearing this, Kaar's eyes brightened. He saw an opening.
'Are you going to help us?'
'Who says I want you to find it?'
The stranger looked grim, determined.
'Don't be foolish!' it was Kaar's turn to laugh. 'There's only one of you and we are five!'
'I count four.'
The outsider pulled out his two glaives.
'Four dead Gans.' he said, before jumping off.
Kaar roared and jumped at the occasion. Seeing the scuffle, his comrades rushed to the rescue.
In the exchange that followed, Krur lost his life and his head first, when he tried to slice the stranger in half with his axe-sword. Then it was Koth's turn, this time a hand and a leg fell off into the snow. The stranger was a champion. The Gans noticed it in his movements. He struck and evaded each blow.
They couldn't pin him down.
'Take the high ground!' Kuf had time to say before being lobotomized by one of the outsider's glaives.
Then it was just Kaar and him, locked eyes, waiting for the other one to strike.
'Who are you?'
'Call me Kaasak********.' the stranger grinned and struck with both blades.



*


'Severus, can you tell me what happened here?'
The Uruk general knelt in the snow, next to one of the bodies. His gloved fingers traced the trajectory of the frozen blood, as it spread in a wide arch from the corpse.
'A battle, sire.' his adjutant replied.
Hearing this, Strabo Shuba smiled.
'Come now, dear Severus. Be more precise! This is what I'm paying you for, isn't it?'
He had his index and thumb brushing against each other, calculating the state of the liquid which was still glowing on his black glove.
'Well, from what I can gather, sir...'
The human scratched his head, his blue eyes darting everywhere, taking the entire scene in.
'These were here first.' Severus pointed to the mountain of charred corpses. 'Marauders, by the looks of their used up armor. Looted, most likely.'
The tall and bald general got to his feet.
'What else?'
'Then these showed up. Obviously officials by the look of their transport.'
The chariot, though blown apart, still carried a sense of importance with it. Perhaps it was the smouldering emblem of the Crimson Talon. Or the fact that it was iron-plated once.
'There was an argument of sorts. Lots of posturing, as it usually happens between opposing Uruks.'
Hearing this, Strabo let out a snort.
'They fought, obviously.' his adjutant continued. 'But not against each other. No, there are traces of gunpowder everywhere. Which might suggest human interference.'
The general walked among the corpses, his eyes on the burned out wagon.
'But as we can see, there are NO human bodies anywhere. So from the looks of these tiny, yet unformed Uruk bones...' Severus' sight fell on the bodies in question ' I can only suggest some Ly Yar were present. Deserters, most likely. Perhaps the ones we've been looking for after that raid near Asht Lun and...'
'Severus.' the general interrupted him.
'Yes, my lord?'
'I am delighted to see you making so much progress. However, the youngsters and their origin do not interest me. Now, what happened next?'
'Of course...' Severus almost lost his train of thought but got back to it, rather quickly. 'Then someone opened fire. It could've been out of retaliation but fact of the matter is that this brought down more Uruks than Ly Yar. This of course angered the surviving Uruks which meant the end for all the freshlings.'
Strabo Shuba pressed his boot on the scortched stairs of the wagon. He wasn't even looking at Severus.
'Go on, I'm listening.'
'Right! It was at this point that the official Gans decided to make their last stand, so they exited the chariot in orderly fashion. However, instead of fighting the surviving Marauders, they end up faced with another group, a third arrival to the scene. Company sized, by the looks of it. More or less official, I can't tell. What I do know, from the state of the corpses, is that what followed was a wave of decapitations, this being the mark of the Gan style of combat.'
Heads of tens of Uruks were still there, at their feet proving his words true.
'What strikes me as surprising is that the Marauders and the Gans seemed to have worked together to get rid of the new arrivals. And they were winning too. Until...'
The Uruk General turned to his human adjutant.
'Until?'
His smile was telling Severus he was getting close.
'Now we get to the true reason why all these trees are burned on their eastern sides . Because the new ones came from the sunset. And they were heavily armed. With Rockets. And again, no humans were involved. Because only a Ly Yar could move a Crossbow that size. All these explosions that tore the woods apart started at this point, close to ...where I am sitting right now.'
He was right but then again, it's not what they were here for. Severus knew this full well.
'Somehow, these Ly Yar Crossbows were slain as well. Judging from the relatively good shape they were in, these were not rebels. Probably they were part of the Company sent to recover the Rudis of the Dominion.'
Strabo Shuba walked closer to him. He was holding a lead box. That's where the sword was, thought Severus.
'However, there was a survivor. One of the original Gans. From the tracks we see he got up and approached the wagon. This is where he probably recovered the object.'
The Uruk General watched the surrounding woods.
'And then what did he do?'
At this, Severus had no clear answer. The tracks on the ground spoke up to a point. Now it was just a matter of speculation.
'He didn't keep it for himself. Yet others came for it.'
Now they approached the four bodies. Massive warriors, all in their prime. Official Guard equipment. Deserters? Highly unlikely.
Severus' mind was toiling to find the answer.
'It's him. It's the survivor. He doesn't want the sword. But he doesn't want others to find it either.'
'Why?'
'Because he hates it. He hates what it represents. He wants the Dominion to be in turmoil. '
Strabo Shuba looked down on the fallen Gans.
'What about them?'
'They underestimated him. He fights well. He moves well. They didn't leave a scratch on him. Perhaps he was once a loyal Guard to the Alpha himself.'
The Uruk General looked into the human's eyes.
'Which Alpha?'
This was it. This was the point when it all made sense. Severus followed his master on countless investigations, innumerable crime scenes. But it always came to this: the moment when he had to think and live inside the criminal's mind.
'Not Kaga. Far too brutal. Not his father either. This Gan doesn't like mercenaries. It's obvious from how he treats them.'
The morning wind was blowing through frozen branches. Caws of crows were echoing in the distance.
'He served a Hadessa. One of the last Alphas to have Hades blood in his veins. That's why he hates pretenders. That's why they've kiled one in this mountain pass. I think...I think he served...'
'Tell me his name, Severus.'
The human dug deep into his mind, finding the details inside rows upon rows of information. Genealogy was never his favored subject.
'Alpha Argus. I believe he served Alpha Argus.'
To this, Strabo Shuba began to laugh. His adjutant was puzzled, yet intrigued. He knew he was close to the answer so there was no point in taking offense.
'Oh, Severus... How you never cease to amaze me!'
His master padded him on the shoulder.
'No, it wasn't Alpha Argus. Yes, it was a Hadessa, but not a Pureblood. He served under my grandfather.'
Severus knew all about Tiberius the Noble Savage. How he married Medusa Wolfgang, daughter of Alpha Cerberus the Builder. How he named a city after her. How his grandson was the very image of him.
Strabo let the lead box to fall on the frozen ground.
'I know because I found this fibula. Of course, this does not nullify the results of your deductive skills. Not in the slightest!'
The tiny brooch shined in his master's gloved palm. Severus noticed the ancient mark of House Hades sculpted on it.
'This was given only to the worthiest of warriors. I often seen it in my childhood.'
The woods were silent.
'Judging by how slow the Gans age, our survivor's probably as old as time itself. And he's probably watching us right now.'
Severus reached down for his pistol.
'Don't. It will make no difference either way.'
His master stared into the distance.
'He's not out there, Severus. He's long gone.'










* Head (in Black Speech)
**Lieutenant (in Black Speech) has 1000 orcs under his command
***Claw (in Black Speech)
****Finger
*****Ugly
******Elf
******* Road-guard
********Bait

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Fifty Seven







Adversity reveals the character of a human.
An Uruk's character IS adversity!
-Grand Inquisitor Mercurio



Heavy chains rattled inside the bowels of the seafaring ship. Geru kept testing them, despite the obvious care of the guards.
'No use, my boy!' the chained Uruk beside him, said. 'Once you're in these shackles, you tend to remain this way! Believe me, I have tried...'
He looked older than Geru, exhausted, as if decades of captivity had left their toll upon his gaunt face.
'How long...' whispered Geru, tired and panting from the effort.
'Ah, I've lost track of time many moons ago!' croaked the elder. 'I'm not as ancient as Demos, if that is what you fear...'
He looked around, with the same sorrowful look on his face.
'You could say we're all just prisoners here, of our own device...'
Then Geru noticed the others. Tall, powerful brutes. All chained to the walls, just like him. Eyes glinting with lust, veins bulging on shackled limbs. And they were watching him, with vivid interest. Geru felt sorry for them.
'Do they ever let you out?'
'Out of these, you mean?!' the old Uruk shook the links of the chain around his neck.'Oh, they never set us free. Never!'
This brought a wave of low guttural sounds from the other captives.
'Except when they encounter things that they alone can't handle. Which is... '
'Rarely...' Geru added the word, with disgust.
'I know, lad, trust me, I know! I wanted to break free when I first got here. That's little consolation for ya!'
The elder grinned.
'But ... given our condition, we'd hardly make it out there, in the free world before they would be forced to put us down like the mad dogs that we are.... So there are some... advantages.'
The others were suspiciously silent. As if they are gilded, Geru thought.
'You will get used to the silence, after a while...' the old Uruk guessed his thoughts. 'So, tell me, squire... why are you here?'
'Killed a guard.'
'Oh, haven't we all?!!' the old prisoner chuckled. 'Tells us, how... how did you do it?'
Geru felt the others stir, as if they were statues brought to life.
'Blade to the throat.'
The elder salivated.
'Ah, a good kill! A righteous kill... Under the chin and then up, into the brain! Nice and quick. Aah, it's been so long since I killed something....'
His eyes started to glow. More chains were rattling now. The others growled like caged beasts.
'Well, looks like you've stirred them now!' the old Uruk rejoiced and began howling at the ceiling.
'Is this how you entertain yourselves?!!' Geru yelled but no one was listening.
They were all roaring as if possessed by bloodthirsty spirits.
'By my ancestors, where have I landed?...' Geru whispered to himself.


*

The tower was situated far from the citadel, as if an uninvited guest to the party. Zoranna looked up, trying to guess it's height.
The white marble must've been blinding to the eye in the daylight, she thought.
But the skies were clouded and there was no sun coming down on the wretched earth. Lacking minarets, the spire appeared stunted, like an accusing fist thrust against the heavens.
'Is this it? Is this the place?' she asked her silent guide.
'Yes' Fay Hades responded.
There were no guards present, neither Uruk nor human, noticed the young mother. Why aren't you guarding my babies?
She felt like screaming as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Then she remembered her children, as they were right after they were born.
How they felt against her skin, for the first time. How each of them moved and behaved very differently.
The first time she held Xenos, it was like taking hold of pure energy. The lad could hardly ever sit still in just one place!
So different from his younger brother...
Named after the monster who kidnapped you! she thought bitterly. Fulk was always curious about the workings of the world, except for meeting her in person. He took to the books, more often than other boys of his age.
'Tell me what's happened to my cubs...' Zoranna pleaded.
Fay Hades kept silent which only contributed to her agitation.
'Tell me what he did to my children!' she grabbed her arm.
The Matriarch turned and stared at her with eyes of ice.
'I will show you once we get to the top. Now... let go of my arm.'
There were halfway up the tower. She's keeping something from me. Something so terrible I have to see it with my own eyes.
'Won't be long now.' the old Uruk female broke the silence, somewhere around the 69th step.
They've reached a wooden door, its massive frame crisscrossed by large, metal nails.
As if my babies are wild bears....
Fay pushed it gently and the gate creaked opened. Inside, there was the familiar stench of burned human flesh.
My babies.... Where are they?
Zoranna was all emotion, pure maternal instincts swiping everything aside. She saw them, amidst a pile of corpses.
'The Treasurer experimented on them.'
She could hear the Matriarch's voice as if through a dream.
'We believed he was trying to make a hybrid, mixing the sturdy Uruk physique with the hellfire of Callisto.'
'Are they.... are they dead?' Zoranna dashed into the room.
'Worse.' Fay Hades responded.
The two silhouettes were huddled together, in the dark.
'Come here, children!' she cried. 'Mommy's home!'
The children got to their feet and as she got closer, she could see their eyes were burning, like fiery embers in the dark.
Windows to hell.
'Don't look at us, mother!' she heard Xenos' voice.
Then came the unmistakable sound of the wooden door closing behind her. The Matriarch fled, leaving her alone with her children.
'Don't look, mother!' Xenos pleaded again. 'Please, just stay where you are!'
But Zoranna did look and like so many others before her, began to scream.


*

'Mesocala is eating the last of our resources.' announced the onyx skinned Xenos Caligula.
'The locals are replacing their warriors faster than we can breed our own.'
The War Council took place inside a black tent, at the edge of the jungle. Large mosquitoes were everywhere, but the Uruk Generals, with their thick skin, ignored them.
'What news from the capital?' the massive brute Hades Genduk demanded.
'Demos is in disarray. With the Treasurer gone, the High Shaman has taken over. Some say, usurped power.'
Pale, gaunt Fulcinius Sigismund rubbed his chin and stared at the grand map on the table.
'Do we have a dog in this fight?'
'The Grand Council is powerless.' replied Xenos. 'Those old veterans have no sway over the High Shaman. His Gans are embroiled in a guerilla war. He's not likely to listen to reason.'
'It does not matter!' the giant Brutus Noctis intervened, baring his fangs. 'Whoever becomes Alpha down there, we still have a campaign up here!'
'The jungle cannot hide them anymore now that we know their main cities.'
Xenos pressed his dagger's tip on spots on the map.
'We can siege their settlements, until we starve them out or force a surrender.'
Brutus Noctis snorted.
'Paynali surrendering? Ha, that's a good joke!'
Hades Genduk took the stand.
'I have a child waiting for me back home. I promised I'd bring him the head of the Great Jaguar.'
'Wait your turn then!' Brutus Noctis snorted and crossed his arms over that massive chest of his.
It made all the Generals snicker. Xenos continued.
'The good news is that we've bested the Sharas every time we met them in open field. Their Jaguar Warriors are no match for us in hand to hand combat.'
Fulcinius Sigismund laughed and took out a strange looking knife.
'Not when they outnumber us and are carrying these.'
The blade was jade green and seemed to trap the light of the scorching sun. The Uruks knew its effect well.
'Allow me to demonstrate.'
Fulcinius pushed the blade against his own palm. It went in, easily.
'This is volcanic glass. It pierces our skin much faster than regular steel.'
He held out his hand to the gathering. The flies were already crowding on the opened wound.
'This... this is our weakness.'
Xenos the Darkened coughed.
'If I may continue...'
Fulcinius extended his clawed hand.
'By all means....'
'The bad news is that we've been having troubles with replenishing our own ranks. Reinforcements are delayed, due to the Sons of Toke sabotaging caravans.'
'I heard they're recruiting straight from the benches of the Academies now. ' Hades Genduk said.
'Craven fools...' growled Brutus Noctis. 'What do they expect? A new Alpha every year?
Shouldn't they fight for us, not against us?!'
'We serve the current Alpha, lad.' explained Fulcinius. 'We are the enemy.'
'All this dissension is making us look weak.' added Hades Genduk.
'The Paynali don't care about what goes on inside our empire.' Xenos responded. 'They're not interested in interrogating any prisoners.'
'No, it's our blood they want.'
The Generals went silent again. They've all lost friends to the sacrificial altars of the bloodthirsty Paynal War God.
'Breeding and training any Uruk hai to fighting capacity takes time.' concluded Xenos Caligula. 'Time we no longer have.'
Hades Genduk rose his yellow eyes.
'What are you telling us?'
Fulcinius Divinus grinned.
'He's telling you that we are losing this war.'
The Darkened seemed displeased by the pale one's intervention. He frowned, but continued, in his own words.
'I'm telling that... if this goes on, at the current rate of conflicts the Dominion is involved in, all over the world, we will run out of soldiers by spring.'
'Hush Jut * !'
Brutus Noctis cussed and broke the table in two with his fist. The other Generals remained still.
'Of course ....' Xenos leaned in and picked up the map. '... no one knows how long we have exactly, but when it happens, there will be only one outcome.'
'Which is?' asked Hades Genduk.
Fulcinius Divinius smiled but covered his mouth. He already knew the answer. Xenos Caligula took a deep breath, then said:
'The end of the Dominion.'







* Viscera Water (in Black Speech)

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Fifty Eight




A human who has never once erred is dangerous.
-Sulla Hades




The day was windy and the sky cloudy but the ships of the Inquisiton were rising their sails once more.
Everywhere the Cross shined crimson against the purest white. At the docks, a convoy of clergymen, servants and soldiers announced the arrival of the most important man on Rema.
'How fares the fleet, Admiral Sfortza?' inquired Frederick Mercurio, the Grand Inquisitor.
'Excellent, your Holiness!' the admiral shook his mane as he took a bow. 'We are fully stocked and well supplied. All that is needed now is for the troops to embark and we sail for Avalon!'
'Very well.' Mercurio rubbed his dark mustache. 'Let us hope those Albion fools play their part in this to the very end, as agreed.'
'They must! Admiral Sfortza shouted above the strong winds. 'It is for the good of all Mankind!'
It is, Admiral. For you are facing monsters.
That last part, Mercurio whispered to himself, so as not to affect the morale of his men. Tall Swiss guardsmen stood all around him, in full regalia, their halberds held high.

Cardinal McLeod was also present for this momentous occasion.
'Isn't it glorious, sire?' declared Luka, the boatsman, standing next to his lord and master.
They made a curious pair: the lowly born and haggardly dressed islander with the high class and lavishly decorated patriarch.
One was in awe at the sight of marching armies, the other had seen it all before, unfolding in a myriad of possible realities and half-truths.
'We shall see, Luka. We shall see...'

The Grand Inquisitor walked side by side with the admiral, taking into account all the vessels, as they floated, lined up for departure.
'Tell me, Admiral Sfortza! What is the name of your flagship?'
'The Mercurian, my liege! There she is, the one all dressed in gold!'
'Aptly named, Admiral.' the Grand Inquisitor smiled. 'I hope it brings you good fortune.'
An angel figure was guarding her golden prow. The galley slowly advanced through the waves, dwarfing her less sisters in size and opulence. She was the very representation of God's infinite glory.
Admiral Sfortza couldn't stop grinning, his chest filled up with pride.

*

Far across the swirling sea, a predator stalked the waves, her black sails still bearing the mark of death. Lady Vengeance, she was called, a title that suited her dark, battle scarred form. She was not pretty, but she was the last of her kind and the deadliest of all.
'Looks like they 'aven't left harbour, M'lord.' the pirate said to his commander.
Lord Eric Blake, Grand Commodore lowered his spyglass and said two words:
'Open fire.'

The cannons of the Greystokes roared in unison, next to the Holy Island of the Inquisition, for the first time in centuries.
A single volley of Lady Vengeance's broadside was all it took to make short work of the entire Crusade fleet. The Reman galleys broke apart, like moths in a campfire.
Down at the docks there was confusion and despair. The Swiss Guards surrounded their lord, shielding him with their bodies.
Surprisingly, through all the devastation, Inquisitor Mercutio was smiling. He gazed into the distance, towards the thunderstorm of distant cannons.
'The Last of the Greystokes.' he thought.'Well played, old friend. Well played.'
There was a shout in the chaos:
'Your Holiness, we must get you to safety!'
'No' the Grand Inquisitor pushed his servants away. 'Let me watch.'
He stared at the fires.
'I want to see this. I want to see Mankind fail.'


*


Fulk was crying, despite himself. The cold, damp cell felt colder than ever.
'Stop it.' his brother Xenos said, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'There's nothing we can do for her now.'
The boy couldn't contain the tears though.
'We burned her, Xen. Our own mother... We've waited so much for her to find us, to come back and this is how we welcomed her...'
Her body was still smouldering somewhere, in a far corner of the room. Xenos let out a grunt of annoyance.
'She died, like all the rest because she looked us in the eye. You know what happens when they do that.'
'But she was our mother...' sobbed Fulk.
He pointed to the corpse.
'Our mother is gone, little brother. Nothing we do can bring her back, but while you were busy crying your eyes out, I managed to find a way out of this hell hole.'
Fulk's eyes lit up with surprise.
'You did?!'
Xenos grinned.
'Aye, little brother. See this?'
The boulder he held up in his hand looked insignificant but to Fulk it meant the world.
'The last rock, Xen! You finally did it!'
Weeks before their mother's sad visit, Xenos found a way to dig inside one of walls, using a knife he stole from a sleeping guard.
Back when we had guards, Fulk remembered.After countless hours of scrapping and swearing, his brother made a tunnel, dislodging rock after rock. And that day he removed the last boulder from their road to freedom.
Yet Fulk was sad, all of a sudden.
'But what of Uncle Cerberus?'
His brother's expression turned sower.
'Uncle Cerberus is the one who brought us here, remember? He's the one we have to thank for burning all these people!'
Xenos shout echoed across the hallway. Fulk was on the verge of tears, again.
'I'm sorry, Xen. I ... I forgot for a moment...'
His brother grabbed him by the back of his throat and stared into his eyes.
'Never forget what they did to us. We shall have our revenge, you hear me?'
Fulk wiped away his tears. He nodded, his eyes halfway closed.
'Good.' his brother patted him on the cheek. 'Now get your ass up there, for there's only room for a slim person and I can't reach out.'
Xenos was always the strongest between them. Fulk knew he could rely on his bigger brother for protection. Even as whelps, Xenos always defended him.
Sometimes, protection comes with a price.
That's what their uncle told them when he first brought them to the tower. The Treasurer spoke of a conspiracy, an alliance of evil sent to destroy them and the Hades family. Don't worry, you'll be safe here.
But his words were lies. The Tower wasn't sanctuary, it was a dungeon. And soon after, the dark robed priests appeared...
Fulk shook his head, not wanting to let painful memories through. He was halfway in the tunnel.
No use turning back now.
'What if we burn other people with our eyes, Xen?! We're dangerous!'
'Would you rather stay here and starve to death next to some corpses?'
'No, but I wouldn't want to harm others either...'
'We won't look 'em in the eyes, then. That's all you have to do.'
His brother was always so sure that everything will turn out well in the end. Fulk thought Xenos was delusional sometimes. Just refusing to accept the harsh reality. But looks like, in this case, at least, he was right.
There was light at the end of the tunnel. He could see sunlight for the first time in years.
'Do you see something?!' his brother's voice echoed back to him, from back inside.
'Yes, I see it.' Fulk smiled.
His eyes were filling up with water again. The azure blue of the clearest sky. It's daytime. I can see the sun.
'Make sure you hold on tight! Those rocks are treacherous! Just like our uncle!'
Xenos joke made Fulk laugh. He pushed his way through, nails grinding against the basalt rock. One step. Just another step, and we are free.
The boy reached out a hand. He clasped against the cold exterior. He inched his way out, careful not to stir too much of the surroundings. He feared guards might hear, even if there were no guards left.
His hands were bleeding, where his fingers have met rock. Shaking from the exertion, he twisted and pushed forward.
Almost blind from the Sun, he knew he had one way to go.
Up, never down. Must continue to climb. For mother, for Xen, for me...
His hand kept searching for something to hold on to. A seagull appeared, his extended white wings bloating out the sun from his eyes.
'Xen, there's a seagull here! We must be near the sea!' he yelled down to his brother.
The bird was engulfed by flames. It fell spiraling towards the ground. Fulk screamed horrified. Then, he remembered.
It looked into my eyes.
One hand clasped over his eyes, determined not to kill any other animals, the boy reached the top of the tower. Puffy clouds were all around and as he rose to his feet, Fulk knew he was right.
He could see the sea.


*


The storm roared outside the ship, like the Uruks trapped under her deck. The waves mercilessly hit her stern, announcing their incoming doom.
'This is it, lad! The moment we've all been waiting for!' the elder Uruk roared.
His neck was crisscrossed by bulging veins as he strained under the weight of the chains. Blood was flowing freely from his mouth and nose.
'They must release us!' Geru yelled over the roars of his brothers.
The elder who was named Gorun, laughed, as if hearing the last joke of his life.
'They can't, my boy!' he gestured with his head towards the twitching monsters. 'Look at them... Would you set them free?!'
He's right. Geru was forced to admit. They will never set us free. We're monsters to them. Pariahs. Outcasts in our land.
He felt the warmth of his own blood from his nose.
Won't be long now and I'll be just like them. At least I'll drown before I become a ruin.
All the others were bleeding and frothing at the mouth. In their state, they were likely to kill the crew before anyone else. Even before the storm.
'I never thought I'd die this way!' Geru mused, almost to himself.
But the elder heard.
'Come closer, then!' he shook his one free arm. 'I'll strangle you straight into the arms of Callisto herself!'
At that moment, the floor cracked and a giant iceberg's tip pierced through, taking all of them by surprise. Murky waters began pouring in.
Despite this, no chained Uruk screamed. Instead, they began to laugh as one.

In his chambers, Toke rose from the privacy of the moment and pushed Tessa's pale, bruised arms aside.
'What now?!' she whispered. 'Don't stop!'
Toke clasped her mouth in a not-so gentle manner.
'Hush, woman. Listen!'
She could hear nothing. But Uruks hearing was ten times better than a normal human's, so that was of no surprise to her.
Toke's dusky face became the expression of intrigued amusement.
'The captives. They are ... laughing. ' he breathed through curled lips.
Tessa could hear them too. Muffled but distinct. Toke allowed her to speak.
'I never heard anything so terrifying before...' she said, eyes enlarged by fear.
Toke noticed the water pulsing through the beams of the floor. And then he knew.
'Get dressed.' he said to the blonde harlot. 'You are about to witness something much more terrifying .'

On the deck, his nostrils picked up the smell of ice. Above their heads, the sails fluttered in the hail like they were made of paper.
He could see the iceberg clearly, as its black shadow eclipsed the lightning.
Toke One-Eye, or the Impostor, as he was called by loyalists, picked up a giant axe.
'Get off!' he roared to a subordinate. 'Get off before I kill you myself!'
His sons watched in disbelief as he began to chop at the body of the ship's mast. Then several others followed his example. The galley was already inclining to her side.
It won't be long now. Toke thought.
Among the chaos, it was Tessa, the only human female on board, that opened the gate to the Berserkers dungeon.
Howling like mad wolves, the first ones to be liberated from their chains by the the cracking of the ship's deck, jumped into the ranks of their former brothers.
They were enraged and hungry.
They were gnashing and biting, strangling the saner ones with their bare hands. Tessa crawled into a barrel, closed the lid and prayed for a quick death.
Geru and Gorun were the last ones out the door.
'Oh, I waited a long time for this...' the elder snarled, his face washed by the rain.
Without further ado, he jumped into the fray, mercilessly hacking away at his captors. They were much younger than him, their flesh much softer, so they stood no chance. Seeing the carnage, most of the Sons of Toke jumped overboard.
'Toke, we're being overrun!' another loyal Uruk screamed into the One-Eyed ear.
The Impostor shoved him aside and continued to hit the bark with the axe. Then, he heard his name above the storm.
'Toke One-Eye of Demos! Face me!'
It was Gorun. His eyes shined like molten steel into the dark. His entire torso was caked in blood. None of it his, thought Toke.
He threw the axe away.
'Gorun of the Seventh! How long has it been?'
The elder grinned.
'Long enough.'
Gorun jumped over the falling mast, roaring as the living avatar of the War God himself.


*

Morning breeze hit Geru's face, as he struggled back into consciousness. He had sand in his mouth. But not water.
He spat and turned on his back.
'My liege, I found another live one!' he heard a voice above him.
Opening his eyes, he glinted against the blinding sun. There were others like him, bloodied, but alive, splayed all across the beach among wreckage.
He saw two Uruks in the distance, kneeling and facing one another. At first glance, he thought them to be dead.
But they were still very much alive, still strangling each other, after all these years. He recognized them.
As if that wasn't enough, he noticed Tessa coming towards him, 'dressed' just as the day she was born. She had nothing to fear, for all the Uruks were barely alive anyway.
'Geru... What have they done to you?'
Her warm palms brushed the seaweed from his face. Geru turned and vomited seawater.
'Gorun...' he rasped towards the two combatants. 'Leave him....'
By Callisto breasts, this is ridiculous!
Gorun didn't answer. Neither did Toke. Their hands were clenched shut against the other one's throat, their nostrils flaring still.
A crudely dressed, emaciated Uruk, draped n furs, rushed past Geru and screamed again.
'Behold your rightful ruler!'
At that moment, a massive shadow eclipsed the two exhausted warriors. Toke was the first one to look over and what he saw made him push his opponent into the wet sand. Gorun snarled and tried to pounce back, but then he noticed the figure too.
Both veterans dropped in prostration, their foreheads striking the blood soaked sand.
'Rise, my children...' Geru heard a booming voice behind him.
He turned and saw the biggest Uruk he had ever seen in his life. A mane of the blackest hair floated in the wind.
He recognized the figure at once, from the old portrait in his master's chamber.
The Saint's father!
He was looking at the oldest living Uruk in existence. The direct descendant of Cerberus, the Uruk who build Demos from scratch!
Someone who shouldn't be alive, and yet, by all means, there he was, standing in the flesh.
Magic, sorcery. Geru didn't care.
It was his turn to strike the warm sand with his head.. Even Tessa bowed, just as she was, for she did not wish to ignite the giant's wrath.
'Rise, my children.' Spartacus Hades repeated. 'We have much work to do...'

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Fifty Nine




I do not know a way to defeat others, only the way to defeat myself.
-Sulla Hades on self-control



The woman's screams pierced through the Halls of the Palace. She sounded young. Tiberius Divinus listened, together with the Alpha Gans.
'Sounds like she enjoys it.'he growled, scratching his chin.
'Ha, have you even been with a woman, pup?' the Captain of the Guard laughed. 'It's not pleasure she's screaming from.'
Tiberius DivinusThe General looked puzzled by the other one's interference.His answer was to headbut the Gan right there and then, in front of his mates. The others snarled but kept their distance.
'The master will see you now.'an emaciated Ly Kan announced him.
Tiberius Divinius brushed the Captain's blood from his face and spat into the general direction of the others. They were beneath him, after all.
The Grand Shaman's private chambers were a mix of comfort and effectiveness. He has a torture rack next to his bed, Tiberius noticed. What kind of man does that?!
He's worse than the bloody Inquisitor!
'Ah, my boy!' the high priest waved him in, his hands still bloody from the rituals he performed. 'What news do you bring us from the war in the streets?'
The girl on the rack looked about his age. But where the Uruk General was a brutish monster, she was a frail thing, with soft skin. Tiberius Divinus tried not to stare at her exposed body.
'Not much progress. We have yet to capture a live one!'
The High Priest smiled as he wiped perspiration from his forehead.
'You know what they say, General. Persistence is the Mother of All Triumphs!'
In his head, Divinus looked for an excuse to leave. Being so close to the sorcerer always displeased him. The girl was attractive however, even in her rotten state.
'You like her?'
She looked exotic. Syriannic in origin, judging from her dusky skin and dark eyes. But she was hardly breathing.
'What did you do to her?' the Uruk General showed his fangs, in disgust.
'I've spoken to the Holy Mother. She often uses the bodies of maidens as vessels for her voice. We need to push deeper through the veil of her conscience...'
Tiberius saw the bloodied instruments that spoke of nothing divine.
'This is torture.'
'To the untrained eye, yes. But it is working, you know.'
Madness, Tiberius thought as he turned away. Nothing but crude sorcery.
'Such matters do not concern me. I have an insurrection to kill.'
'Oh, but it does my boy. For you are her Chosen. Callisto has chosen you to be her Champion. She has revealed it to me. You will lead us to victory, whether you want to or not.'
By the blood of the innocents, the Uruk General thought as he clenched his fists. Wonder how long will the Gans take to burst in, if I strangle the bastard...
'This is not what Demos was built for. This is not why Slavos freed the slaves of the Four Races.'
'You're but a mere child if you believe that our capital wasn't built on the blood of slaves. Her and many more like her have ALWAYS suffered so that we could rule the world!'
The Shaman's voice echoed in the crimson draped room.
'Take her with you.' he concluded, with a sad voice.'Throw her to the Gans. I have no need of her anymore...'
The old man's back was turned now and Tiberius felt the beast inside him stir at the presenting opportunity. Yet it was the girl's eyes that stopped him in his tracks. She looked at him, like no other creature ever did. He halted and breathed in the chamber's dark atmosphere. The monster unchained the maiden.
He carried her out of the Shaman's quarters. Outside, no Gan dared interfere with him.
The girl was his prize, after all.


*

Wilelda hated to lose. Ever since she was a little girl, she would always fight to get her way. Brothers or sisters, didn't matter.
The truth was one and it was often her job to make the others know it. If it meant bruises and broken bones.
Living a life inside the most infamous noble family of the Dominion was not easy. Other noble families were fearful of the name and what it stood for.
They hate us because they cannot replace us.
That's what her mother used to say. Heididrudis was right. She had a keen political mind and always thought twice before making a decision Her only weakness was the love for her child.
Atlas...
Wilelda brushed the spiteful thought aside. There was no point in judging her dead brother now. Vengeance was done.
Vengeance is ours. That was the Hadessa motto.
As she stalked the Great Market of Demos, she pondered on the importance of revenge. Her children were in safe hands, that much was certain. But she was there to get her husband back.
Oddus, you big oaf...
In disguise, she looked like a normal human woman, covering her face as to not incite the spirits of Uruks. She knew the law well and she knew how to blend in.
The Gans were patrolling everywhere, their white knots and tall stature making them very noticeable in the large crowd.
If this is how the High Shaman thinks he's going to get results, he's sorely mistaken.
She's been following a lead for weeks now. Ever since she got off the boat, she pretended to be a noble woman, married to an official. She had the Dominion seal to prove it.
Wilelda hoped that the Sons would contact her but they maintained their distance, despite of all her efforts. So she began hunting them.
She asked for them in the brothels, in the courtyards, in the alleys and at the docks. Everywhere, the same answer.
No one had seen them. They were ghosts. But even ghosts had places to hide.
Her blue-green eyes looked everywhere for clues. Signs of combat lined the streets. Charred buildings where the Dark Priests were brought in, to burn the Sons in their tracks.
Piles of corpses, here and there, mostly the Lesser Races. The Gans took their dead with them. It was a question of Martial Pride not to show weakness to the crowd.
But they were bleeding as well. Most of the Gans she saw carried wounds too grievous to hide anymore.
Only due to their exceptional physique did they still breathe. And yet, her as well as the High Shaman's lapdogs could fine no trace of a single Son of Toke.
A live one, that's all I need, Holy Mother!
That's when the stranger grabbed her arm and pushed her into the safety of an alley. He immediately began to choke her but as she was Uruk , her skin was far more durable than a human's even if it did looked the same.
She grabbed him by the throat and pushed the cloak off his face. It was a young Ly Yar, but missing one eye, nonetheless.
'Die, scum!'he hissed through clenched teeth.
It's his rite of passage, she thought. He has to prove himself to his superiors by ending me!
There was no time for second guesses. With the corner of her eye, she saw a Gan patrol approaching. She pushed the youngster into the crowd. He looked frightened and exposed.
'Son of Toke!' Wilelda screamed with all her might.
The people stood clear of him, as if he had the plague. The Gans pounced on the boy. They made short work of him, with their glaives, slicing and dicing with renewed hate. There wasn't much left to see, but Wilelda's eyes were elsewhere.
She spotted a window closing, in a balcony above.
There you are, you bastard!
With the ease of a jaguar, she leaped into the balcony, as high as the Gans did, her preternatural strength allowing it. But her eyes took a moment to adjust from sunlight to complete darkness.
And that was when they nabbed her.

Strong Uruk hands clasped her arms and pushed her to her knees. Wilelda didn't scream, but waited.
The one siting in the shadows spoke.
'So, you want to talk to the Sons of Toke. Well, here we are.'
She smiled defiant.
'Your recruitment methods are severely lacking.'
The hidden Uruk chuckled.
'Aye, the lad knew what he was getting into. And he paid the price. Now, why are you here?'
There was no point denying it.
'I'm looking for my husband. His name is Claudius Oddus. I want him back.'
The stranger pushed his face into the light. Wilelda let out a gasp.
'What if he doesn't want to come back?' said Claudius Oddus, looking in his very best shape, except for the missing left eye.
Her lips were quivering. She struggled to break loose.
'Oddus, you have to come with me! The children...'
'The children are NOT here!' Oddus roared. 'You are!'
He threw the dagger next to her knees.
'And you have to make a choice.'
Wilelda kept her cool, despite the circumstances.
'You want me to kill someone?'
'No.'Oddus touched his scarred left cheek. 'I want you to serve Toke.'
Her breath intensified despite her training. The emotions were too much to handle.
'Serve Toke or die.'


*

It was a dark, rainy afternoon and the humans were trampling each other. Once more, the Mordreds were hunting their own kind.
'This is bad comedy...' breathed Vane the Mad behind his visor.
He cut down an Avalonian archer as he went and so did the other knights. Scores of Avalonian soldiers were fleeing the battle, scared out of their minds by the sight of true horror.
Scores of Avalonian soldiers were fleeing the battle, scared out of their minds by the sight of winged horrors.'Least it's better than the other way around.' commented Adaluin the Fair.
'I love killing archers!' Skane the Scarred was yelling at the front.
'Heh, mad bastard...' Vane chuckled.
'Stay focused!' Gurian, ever watchful, intervened. 'This isn't over yet.'
They were chasing down the Yeomans into the open plain.
'Looks pretty done to me.' remarked Vane.
The others felt the same way. The Avalonians were routing, their right flank broken.
Suddenly, a winged monstrosity crossed their path, hissing through the air and scaring the horses.
'Blood of Morgana!' exclaimed Adaluin. 'What was that?!'
Gurian smiled behind his black visor. He turned in his saddle to face his compatriot.
'That... was a Mahisha. Straight out of hell, brought for your pleasure!'
Vane watched as more gargoyles were falling from the skies upon the panicked Avalonians.
'Poor bastards. What a way to go!'
The last of the archer begged for mercy before being struck clean through the head by Gurian's broadsword.
'Let's return to the battle. There's nothing to be done here.' he ordered.
The others followed suit. Their armors hardly suffered any dents, this time.
They listened to the screams of the archers as they were being pulled apart.
'For once, I'm glad I serve the Dominion...' acknowledged Skane, with fear in his voice.
Vane chuckled once more, but said nothing. He was sure they all felt the same way

As they rode towards the main battle line, Adaluin approached his black steed to Vane's.
'So... who are we serving this time?'
Vane grunted. He was not a man of conversations, but for some reason, his brother could not be denied.
'Ever heard of Decius Tomaas?'
Adaluin shook his head.
'Well, he's somewhat of a child progeny. Only seventeen and he's already a General. The Uruks are mad about him.'
'They say his mother was a witch!' Skane intervened, without permission, as usual.
'Why do they say that?' inquired the Fair One.
'It's because of his skin.' replied Vane. 'But you'll see it soon enough.'
'Silence!' Gurian yelled. 'We're almost there! He'll have your heads if he hears you.'
'Don't you mean yours?' Vane grinned behind the faceplate.
Gurian pushed his warhorse forward, as if to make sure he caught the commander in a good mood.
Minutes later, they all saw him, in the flesh. Adaluin gasped in his helmet.
Decius Tomaas, unlike most Uruks, was green. His skin was the color of dark moss. He greeted the knights with a large smile upon his pockmarked face.
'Well met, Knights of Mordred! You fought well!'
That's a relief. Vane thought. Means he's not going to kill us.
'My liege.' Gurian bowed his bat-winged helm. 'What would you have us do?'
'Not much.' Decius took a bite out of the freshly cooked lamb hoisted in a spike in front of his chair. 'I want you to take out those archers over there. My troops will deal with the rest.'
Gurian looked at the hill and his heart froze. They would have to cross open field and face longbowmen, the best archers in Europa. He knew a suicide mission when he saw one. Instead of decapitating the foul beast on the spot, he saluted dutifully.
'Very well, sire! It shall be done!'
The Uruk General was not even paying attention to them anymore.
'For the Dominion!' the Mordred Knight gave another worthless salute and led his brothers away.

Precious yards were gained between them and the command post and the knights gathered around their leader.
'What do we do now, Gurian?' demanded Adaluin. 'Surely you don't mean to lead us up there! It's suicide!'
'I know.' Gurian said.
'Bastard doesn't care if we live or die!' Skane pulled up his visor and spat on the ground.
'I know.' Gurian repeated.
'Well, how do we get out of this one?' Vane asked.
Gurian spotted a row of green flags upon the horizon. The Vexille knights were waiting for orders. Just what we need, he thought.
'Wait here!'
He stirred his horse onward and for a moment, the others stood there, watching as he rode up towards the Vexille commander.
'What is he doing? Has he gone mad?'
Adaluin spoke for all of them. They were concerned more for their captain than for themselves.
The Modred and the Vexille exchanged pleasantries and they could hear the other one chuckling. That only made them even more curious.
'Is he telling jokes?! We are about to die and he's jesting?!!' Adaluin exclaimed.
'Perhaps he's telling them about your mother.' added Skane the Scarred.
'Skane, one of these days, I swear to Morgana, I will...'
'Shut it!' Vane hissed. 'Here he comes!'
Taking his time, Gurian advanced towards his brothers of arms. Their frantic questions hit a wall. He remained silent, much to their frustration.
'Look, the Vexilles are...' Adaluin shouted.
Under the eyes of the surprised Mordreds, the entire company of horsemen charged headlong onto the killing fields. The Avalonians responded by filling up the ground with arrows. Most of the Vexilles fell instantly. Some managed to break through and in no time, they routed the enemy.
'What did you say to them?' Vane demanded to know.
'Nothing special. I told them that my knights were cowards and that I hoped I would see some real bravery on this field!'
The Vexille commander was lifting his bloodied lance as a greeting towards the Mordred captain. Gurian rose his lance in response.
'Fools, the whole lot of them.' he added, grinning behind his visor.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty




No Uruk shows fear.
Words such as 'I'm a coward' or 'Should I run?' or 'How frightening!' or 'How painful!' never come out his mouth.
These should not be said, not even in jest, on a whim, or in one's sleep.
He who utters such words ceases to be Uruk-hai.
-Toke One-Eye



The last Jotnarr on Jotunheim died, with an Uruk Berserker embedded into his chest. Gorun devoured its heart, while the giant was still breathing. Thus ended the resistance on Death Island.
The feast that followed was enormous. Uruk and humans alike celebrated among the bones of frost giants. The Immortal had taken the island by storm, using the surviving Toke's Sons to bolster his army, with the Berserkers in the first line. The giants had a name for the blood-crazed Uruks, in their ancient tongue.
Ruða. It meant rat.
Gorun was welcomed into the ranks of Spartacus' Bodyguards, known among the troops as the Eternals. Just like them, the elder had prolonged his life span by drinking frost giant's blood. Geru, on the other hand, was content to leave the blood drinking to others.
He silently watched the debauchery unfold, from his seat at the table. All around him, Uruks and Valhallans drank from cups made out of the skulls of giants. The Saint's Chosen refused the advances of a slave girl and walked outside.
The cold night air did Geru good. He was still fighting back urges to kill. Anyone was a target. His former comrades, thralls, fresh maidens,anyone really could fall by his blade. It made no difference.
His mind hungered for the intimate pleasure of blood spilling. He was not drunk like the others, as he seldom indulged in that habit. But from time to time, he had to kill.
A belch, followed by harsh laughter, announced the arrival of Gorun. The elder staggered onto the terrace, with his shield and axe-sword as crutches. He was half conscious and still in his battle armor.
'They've trained us to kill...' he grunted. 'Now look at us.'
'We care for nothing but the kill.' Geru allowed himself to speak freely. 'Yet there is more to life than senseless slaughter... I feel it. We all do. Even though we can't stop.'
The old one unlocked his helmet.
'Are you going soft on me?'
'No, Gorun. I think I'm waking up. For the first time in my life, I don't see a need to fight for the Alphas. Each time a new one claims the throne, another one follows and takes his place. And it goes on forever.'
The elder scoffed.
'There's always going to be bloodshed and carnage. That is the Uruk way!'
'No.' Geru smiled. 'That is the old way.'
He thought back to Arcadius and how his master used to play games with the local children, under the blinding sun. The people of Ibellica loved him. It was they who started calling him the Saint, because of his gentleness, so uncommon in Uruks. They saw in him a liberator, a hero of legend, someone to fight back against their oppressors, someone to free them from the slavery of the cruel Valientes.
'There can be peace. I've seen it.'
The force of the blow took him by surprise. Blood spilled from his shattered nose, as a flood breaks through a dam. The elder had struck him in the face with his bronze shield.
'You feel that?! Good! It means you're still alive!'
Geru felt the familiar rage taking over. He bared his fanged maw and roared, despite all reason.
'Why?' he snarled. 'Why did you do that?!'
'To prove a point.'
The elder swung his blade at Geru's throat, with the confidence of an experienced killer. A few inches of air and the younger one's quick dodge were all that stood between certain death.
'A death strike?!' Geru breathed through his teeth. 'That's going overboard, mate!'
'You went there first when you opened your yap!' Gorun roared and swung again, this time missing with less inches from the target. 'Talking about peace and serenity?! All we know is violence!'
Geru grasped the other one's sword arm. He spat blood into his eyes, blinding him. A bad habit, from his gladiatorial days.
'You can't understand! My mind's not broken up!'
The old one grinned.
'Not yet!'
He shoved Geru aside.
'We are all monsters here! Don't ever forget it.'
The scuffle ended, just as it began. In an instant, a heart-beat. The elder walked away, his axe-sword in hand and honor intact.
But Geru was left behind, his body shaking with the desire to rip someone apart. The rage was subsiding when he felt the skin on the back of his neck tingle, as if a big threat was near.
He turned and saw Spartacus the Deathless watching him, as a giant cat stalks its prey.
'Why didn't you end him?'
The leader's golden eyes indicated towards the general direction of Gorun.
'His time is near and he wants to die. Why not finish it?'
Geru bowed, immediately lowering his head.
'My mind's not affected by the Spike, great leader. I can still see clearly.'
'You think you're better than us?'
'No. I just see the bigger picture.'
'Tell me, then. What does it say?'
'It says that...' Geru swallowed his fear. ' It says that if we continue like this, we will lose this war.'
He kept his eyes to the ground. To his surprise, the killing blow never came. What followed was more unnerving to the senses: the Immortal started laughing. It was a harsh sound, like thunder across the open plain.
'You think that Uruks understand peace?'
Geru looked up.
'Your son did. Until the day he died.'
The living legend frowned.
'How did he die? Who killed him?'
'No one.' Geru lied. 'His mind gave way.'
He did not want the Immortal to know the truth: that his son was slain by a human. A human, of all creatures. And it was another human that avenged his master's death. Not him. Not loyal Geru. No, it was a human, a Mordred Knight.
I never thanked the bastard.
'My son was a weakling.' the Immortal whispered.
Those words hit Geru's heart like a knife. The Immortal continued:
'If you end up like him, I'll kill you myself.'

*

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty One




If an Uruk roars and waves his axe-sword too much, the Lesser Races will find him unapproachable.
But if he doesn't use his weapon, the blade will rust and the Lesser Races will see him as a nobody.
-Ugo Grim



The festival was a cacophony of laughter, screams and fireworks. Everywhere you'd look, there were people celebrating the Summer Solstice. Despite the distractions around him, Fulk knew he had to stay focused. He was doing his best to appear dim-witted so that the crowd could pay no mind to him.
'Remember, better to think us simpletons, than princes.'
His brother's words echoed in his agitated mind.
Don't look at their eyes, don't look at their eyes... the boy kept repeating to himself.
He still felt sorry for the pigeon up in the tower. All his life he never wanted to harm nobody. Now he had to live with the memory of that creature meeting its death in front of his eyes.
My damn eyes. I'm so stupid... I should've never been born.
The one thing he did not need was attention. He thought of his brother and what they decided, after they escaped.
They will run from the Dominion and seek the human rebels. At least there they will be safe from the Alpha's guards.
They were hunted, that much was certain. The blood in their veins was ancient and the High Shaman wanted them in custody. They were runaways in a empire that should've been theirs, by right.
As always, Fulk was feeling unsuited for the task. I'm too weak to run, too weak to lead, too weak to breathe.
He wanted to cry.
Cry and hide. Like you did your whole life.
He hated himself for being so weak, for depending on his brother.
However, Xenos was not there to protect him. He was somewhere up the road mingling with the masses of sweaty, excited strangers. Fulk hated the people between them. He always missed his brother. He valued his company, his strength, his twisted sense of humor. His knowledge.
Without him, I am lost.
Just then, he thought he'd heard his brother cry for help.
'Xen! Hang on!I'm coming!'
His shout was smothered by the fireworks blowing up into the sky.
Then he saw the truth: what he believed to be his brother was just a teenage girl playing with her dog. Without even thinking, Fulk met the hound's eyes. Instantly, the shaggy beast went up in flames.
Fulk was shaking and gasping for air.
No, no, don't die! Not you too!
People all around noticed this.
'Sorcery!'
Angry shouts filled up the sky.
'Stand back!'
'Grab that kid!'
Fulk closed his eyes shut, so hard that it hurt.
I wish my eyelids would burn off... Then you would all leave me alone.
From the hostile circle of accusing hands, one single frail palm lashed forward and slapped him across the face. Fulk screamed and stared at his aggressor.
But his eyes met eyes of the same viridian. Xenos was looking scared and angry at the same time.
'What did I tell you?! Never look into their blasted eyes!' his brother admonished him.
He was pushing people from their path, using his arm not his eyes.
'One of these days I won't be here to protect you!'
Fulk was crying. His legs walked without him, almost on their own.
Stand back, he wanted to shout to the bystanders. Our vision will kill you....
Yet despite the tears, the shouts of the crowd and the smell of burning flesh, Fulk was smiling.
He was happy.

*

'Wait outside.' the slender Halfbreed said to his human.
The tavern looked abandoned. It was a wretched thing, tables all covered in dust and there were delicate cobwebs dangling from the ceiling.
The intruder took a deep breath and smiled as if the stench was a rare perfume.
'Aaah, nothing shows more the passing of time than this!'
He addressed the empty walls but there were two others, in there, with him: the innkeeper and a customer. Only one, hidden, in a corner.
'Tell me, my friend, what's there to drink in this FINE establishment?'
The stranger pursed his thin lips as if to anger the retired Gan. The innkeeper spat in one of the mugs he was polishing and placed it in front of the guest.
'For you. It's on the house.'
The Halfbreed grinned, showing an all too-human amusement at the situation.
Naturally, he wasn't welcomed here.
'I take it you don't see much officials around these parts.'
The retired veteran bared his teeth in disgust.
'Take it anyway you like. Just leave.'
His was a heavy Fringe accent. The slender Uruk answered with the same joyful tone as before.
'I'll have what he's having.'
His pale finger points towards the client.
'And don't worry, there won't be any property damage, I swear!'
The Halfbreed turned and walked straight to the stranger's table.
'Of all the places in the world, you had to pick this one!'
The other one kept silent. The heavy hood was eclipsing his features.
'What is it? You can tell me, I won't tell anyone. Is it the food? The feasts here must be enormous! Puts the Summer Festival to shame...'
He stared at the other one's face. No reaction.
'How did you find me?'
The other's voice was a low growl that spoke of murderous intent. He was twice the size of the Halfbreed.
'Wasn't too difficult, really. We just had to follow the bodies. You leave quite a mess after yourself.'
'Is that the official seal of Demos?' the monster grinned in the shadows.
'The very same. Been there for decades now.'
The Halfbreed brushed the medallion with his delicate fingers.
'What if I lob your pretty head clean off right now?'
'It wouldn't make a nick of difference, honestly. You'd still die. And it won't be glorious or meaningful. It would just be a matter of overwhelming force.'
The sun was shinning through the grease stained windows.
'I like them odds.'
The brute took a sip from his mug.
'I think you deserve a much cleaner death.' the other Uruk continued. 'Something you never received under Spartacus.'
That got the monster's attention.
'You're smart. For a...'
'Halfbreed?' The slender official smiled. 'Oh, don't worry, I've heard them all. Words do not matter now. The Purebloods are all up in arms down at the Citadel. There's going to be a war.'
'Isn't it always a war somewhere?'
'A pacifist Uruk Gan! Now I've seen it all!'
The Halfbreed slapped his tigh and shook with laughter. The brute was not amused.
'The thing I never understood about you' the official continued ' was which sword arm is strongest. Your left arm or your right? Seeing how you use two swords in armed combat.'
The brute sat still, as a statue carved in stone. The stranger continued.
'Naturally, after witnessing your handiwork, I felt obliged to meet you in person. I hope you can forgive my intrusion but an Uruk of your talent is indeed, a rare sight.'
The second guest squinted as if trying to remember something important.
'You served under Spartacus for many years. You've seen how things work in our capital. Up close and personal. You started off as a Bodyguard and then became his Henchman. You saw how little lives matter to an Alpha. That grew disappointment in you. Normally, you took offshore assignments. Just so you can be out of that wretched nest of vipers and poisonous intrigues.'
The other one kept silent.
'Then came the opportunity you've longed for all these years. An accident, a mishap. Something that provided you with the chance to hit back at the Dominion, at the masters you hated for treating you so unjustly over the long decades. You rebelled.'
The bald Uruk rubbed his scalp with his thin hand.
'I know the feeling, believe me, I do. To have a symbol of power in your hands, to think of all the lost souls and bloodshed that came from such a tiny object. Believe me, I know. Yet, here I stand. As it happens, the masters want their toy back. And I'm the one they've sent.'
'You'll die.' the brute spoke, in a clear, rough voice.
'Eventually yes. We all die. But I won't die in this piss-poor place, that's certain.'
He smiled, yet again, as if nothing bad will happen.
'I'll die in my bed, as I lived my life, surrounded by women.'
This brought out a hoarse laugh out of the brute.
'You're no fighter, then.'
'No, that I am not.' the second visitor agreed. 'But the dozens of Uruk Gans surrounding this tavern are.'
The veteran grinned.
'Let them come.'
'No need for heroics.' the bald visitor remarked. 'You will not die here, not now, not today. Not if I can help it.'
'What do you want?'
The official changed his mood, instantly.
'The Rudis.' His pale face turned stiff and serious, all of a sudden. 'Where is it?'
'Don't know. Don't have it.'
'You had it once. All evidence points to it.'
'I don't have it anymore.'
There was a silence between them, for a while. The veteran spoke first:
'Can't you have your little wars without it? It's just a wooden toy. Make a new one.'
'Well, you see, old friend... There is such a thing as tradition. That little toy meant something. It was a symbol. It had a meaning and a purpose.'
The Halfbreed stretched his thin arms.
'It kept aaall the jackals away from the prize. And now that it's gone, the jackals are circling. No one can claim the title. Not officially. There's a void of power. You know what that means?'
'Anarchy.' the brute added.
'I just want to know one thing.'
'Go on.'
The noble Uruk leaned in his chair.
'Where did you throw it? Was it more to the east or more to the west?'
This made the monster chuckle, at first. Then, it exploded into the harsh sound that Uruks make when amused. They were both laughing.
'I have two companies out there and they still can't find the bloody thing!'
'Have you tried looking into the trees?'
'No, but I had them dig ditches all over the forest. Those idiots couldn't find their own arses with a candle!'
The brute took a large gulp of ale.
'I threw it into the sunset. That's all I know.'
The bald Uruk wiped tears from his eyes, from all the laughter. His face turned serious, once more.
'You've killed a lot of Uruks.'
'You've bedded a lot of women.'
'Aye, that I have.'
The noble Uruk frowned.
'I don't care about the sword. I could wish you a good death, but that too, would be pointless.'
'I'm ready to die. I welcome it.'
The second visitor got to his feet.
'I know you do. My name is Strabo. My mother was a Hadessa, but don't hold that against me.'
He held out his hand.
'Come, work for me if you want to live.'
To this, the brute took another sip from his mug.
'And if I refuse?'
'Then you shall get that death you wait for. But it won't have meaning. It will be a waste of talent. A futile and empty thing. Like so many others.'
'Fair enough.'
The bald Uruk turned his back to the stranger. He added,without looking at him.
'Or you can take your revenge on the bastard that wronged you in the first place.'
That made the brute chuckle some more.
'Would if I could! You can't bring back the dead.'
'Oh, no, my friend.' Strabo turned to face the Uruk Gan. 'The truth will surprise you.'
Then, in the silence of that dusty, rat-infested tavern, the rumor became reality for the first time.
'Spartacus Hades still lives.'
The brute's smile died.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty Two




So it's all the same whether you study human life for forty years or ten thousand, for what more can you expect to see?
-Arcadius the Saint


The girl was bathing in front of his very eyes. She did not know he was there, however.
Cerberus Cerberus chose to stay hidden, in the shadows of trees. He could observe better from there.
Her long, red hair marked her as one of the Gaelic Nation, one in the thousands who've just landed on Avalon. They were coming to take revenge upon their former masters. Making the most out of the Dominion's long, lost campaign.
He knew she would never accept him, for who he was. In her eyes, he was a monster, a beast, something to be feared. No more, no less. But her pale, freckled skin enraptured him. He couldn't look away.
He wondered if she was a princess or a low-caste female of her clan. He also wondered why was she alone, on that riverbank, in that morning. Maybe she was an outcast.
Like him.
Nobody ever liked him growing up. They would always talk behind his back, there were always rumors of his father's inclinations towards human females. The other Uruks despised him not only because of his mixed blood, but more because he was the son of a scoundrel. The Extinguisher of a Dynasty. The only dynasty Demos has ever known and his father was responsible for its ruination.
Cerberus did not like that idea. He wanted a family of his own. Children were a blessing, that's what he always thought.
That's what his mother would say, before his father banished her to foreign lands.
Being the Treasurer meant Fulk had a duty to the state and its finances, first and foremost. He did not have the time to be a father. So Cerberus Cerberus grew up alone, mostly surrounded by tutors and human slaves than by any real Uruks.
He had no real example to follow.
Then he was sent to Military Academy, where he would be mocked for his too human physique. But he persevered, using agility against brute force and besting his opponents, one by one, he climbed up the ladder. He hated being a soldier, but it was the only real thing his father couldn't do so that's why he chose it. Besides, a military career might meant being sent somewhere far away from Fulk's cold and distant, yet ever watchful gaze.
One day, his father came to see him and told him he was going to be sent to war, on a faraway island.
Where others have failed, you will succeed. Because you are my son.
Those were his direct words. And now, here he was, about to fail, staring at a naked human female, more closer to his father's affinities than he would've liked to admit.
'Are you going to gawk all day or are you going to do something about it?'
She spoke, her back still turned towards him. Cerb's heart skipped a beat, his breathing intensifying as if he was back in the arena, facing brutes.
Can she see me?
'I know you're there. No use hiding. Show yourself.'
She was tall and frail looking but she put the living fear of death into him. He froze there, unable to run or speak.
'I ... I can't. You'll hate me.'
The girl turned her head a bit, her delicate naked skin shinning wet into the sunlight.
'Why? Are you that horrifying?'
He swallowed his fear.
'I might be. To you, I'm hideous.'
'Let me be the judge of that.'
Her smile spoke of sweet summer nights, filled with promises. No, she's just luring me into a trap. I must remain vigilant!
Cerberus Cerberus began to slowly back off. His feet made no noise, but his breath was almost deafening to his senses. He was panting, as if strained by massive effort.
'No need to run. Does a maiden scare you, my prince?'
'How do you know I'm a prince?'
She turned and gazed towards his location. Her voice echoed above the sound of water prickling over round rocks.
'I've heard a lot about you. Cerberus Cerberus, of the Uruk Nation.'
Her smile was almost too sweet to bear. She's a witch, thought the young Uruk. She's been sent to put a spell on me.
'How can you know such things?'
'It's a small island, m'lord. News travel fast. We, Gaelics admire you brutes.'
There it was, the word all humans used to describe an Uruk. It sounded petty and cruel, even in her pretty mouth.
'Your blood is strong.' She was advancing towards him, her pale knees cutting through the water. 'You kill our enemies by the hundreds.'
Her eyes shone with adoration as she spoke.
'How can we not admire you?'
Cerberus Cerberus felt weak at his knees. She's been sent here to kill me.
Her long hair covered her breasts. She looked very sure of herself, each step bringing her closer to him. I should run back, the Uruk thought but his legs remained as they stood.
' Stop.' Cerb was barely able to speak. 'Don't come any closer. I'll...'
She was out of the water, her feet stepping on wet leaves.
'You'll what?'
Cerberus' eyes were filling up with tears.
'I'll hurt you. Like... my father did to my mother.'
The Gaelic woman was almost as tall as him. If there was a weapon on her, it was nowhere to be seen. His breath was blowing her red flocks away from her face. She raised her arm and touched his face.
'Maybe I want you to hurt me.'
Her white fingers on his dark, purple skin were making a perfect contrast. Cerberus' blinked and fixated his yellow eyes on her face. She's perfect, from any point of view.
'What do you want from me?'
The Treasurer's son barely spoke, in the pale Gaelic's embrace.
'I want you to lead my people to victory. We need you, Cerberus. Show us the way and we will follow!'
That day, in that meadow, Cerberus Cerberus betrayed his allegiance towards the Dominion of Uruks.
Twice.


*


'Have you heard? Buchendorf has fallen.'
The tavern was filled with smoke and the scent of broken dreams. The two men looked inconspicuous enough, even though they had very different origins.
'The gang responsible for Kaga's death, they did it.' Primeiro Menendos continued, watching closely for a reaction.
'Looks like the noose is getting tighter, Faustian.'
Carl Gustav swallowed his anger along his beer and said, in a perfectly calm tone:
'Pretty soon the monsters will be at your doorstep. Arandorf is now, encircled.'
The Barbarian King struck his fist on the table, then looked around to see if anyone noticed. He laid very still, as if the outburst never happened. Hispanics were not good at hiding their emotions.
'True, but at least we're free in our own city.'
His Faustian counterpart smiled and twisted his blonde mustache.
'Aye, free to barter and submit to the laws of the Dominion, without actually BEING in the Dominion. Sounds like slavery to me.'
Primeiro Menendos didn't jump to the bait.
'Sounds like your people are dying. The more you fight against them, the more of you they slaughter. The Uruks enjoy battle, more than anything else. That's why you'll never win.'
'Well, at least we'll die standing.' Carl Gustav admitted.
The entire situation on the front line was pretty grim. He suddenly felt the need to be elsewhere. Far, far away from here. 'Is it done?' asked Primeiro Menendus.
'The cannons have been delivered, yes.' reported the Faustian, in a low voice. 'All except one.'
'What happened with it?'
'Fell in the river. Drowned several of my men.'
The Hispanic King took a gulp of his mead, wiped his red beard with the back of his palm and said:
'Matters not. Sacrifices must be made for victory.'
'Ja' Carl Gustav agreed. 'Everything for the Sieg.'
They toasted to this, as if it was a certainty. The Hispanic Enclave was encircled, just a pale stain in a sea of black. If they were ever to break free, they would have nowhere to go. Except the sea.
Carl Gustav sometimes wondered if the Hispanics knew this. His friend was a bit edgy. He kept looking over his shoulder. There was someone nearby, suspiciously close.
Who is she? The barbarian noticed her before, but he didn't say anything in order not to raise alarm. The woman was all veiled up, from her toes to her forehead. Yet her eyes were burning with hatred.
'This is Talulah, the most beautiful woman born outside of Ibellica.' the Faustian introduced her.
She kept her face hidden, yet those wonderful eyes were telling the truth. She really is beautiful.
'And that lad behind you?'
Primeiro Menendus tensed and turned, as if dodging a knife-strike.
'That's her son. Tamás Theseus.' Carl Gustav continued. 'Tell us, boy! Who was your father?'
The youngster was Uruk of origin, yet his bones were far too delicate for him to be a pureblood.
'Kaga.' said the boy. 'My father was Alpha Kaga.'
'You hear that?!' the Faustian chuckled.
'So?' the barbarian was unimpressed. 'All I see is a bastard and his mother. Without the official seal, they're meaningless.'
'That's just it.' Carl Gustav grinned. 'She is the daughter of the Jaguar. The human warlord fighting the Uruks in Mesocala! Her son's the direct descendant of the last Alpha. We don't need any Rudis to prove it. By Law of Blood, he is...'
'The true ruler of Demos.' Talulah unveiled her face. 'If you will help us get there.'
Primeiro Menendus knew then and there that he was in love.

*

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty Three



In the beginning, a Yar is worthless and knows it.
He trains hard to impress others, to win his trainer's respect all while fighting against his brothers. That's why so many Uruk Yars die during training.
At one point, the Uruk Yar will smarten up and rise above his uselessness. In that moment, he's still soft and squishy but he begins to see inefficiencies in others.
After some time, the Yar begins to lose interest in the praise of his trainer. He concentrates solely on the art of war and laments the lack of ability in his brothers.
He's not fully Uruk but he's turning into one.
Uruks do not need praise. They care only for war. And dying well.
In the end, the Uruk is worthy and he knows this. He will fight twice as hard as any other, take twice as many trophies and become oblivious to the flaws of the ones around him, for he serves his master only, with no concern for his own safety.
After some battles, the Uruk becomes a weapon of war.
Only then, is he ready to become Uruk-Gan.
The Gan is superior and he knows it. Which makes him complacent and too trusty in his own strength.
So, in a sense, one Uruk Gan is more powerful than ten Uruks, but blinder than the lowliest Uruk Yar.

-Ullon the Unworthy


Three they were.
Always three. No more, no less. All wore cloaks to hide their faces, as it was custom.
They were moving faster now, through the cheering crowd. The Festival of Inauguration was a unexpected opportunity for the Resistance. Leadership has decided that this time, a fast attack will be successful.
Wilelda was one of the Chosen. Her husband said it was required of her to prove her loyalty to the Cause. All she ever wanted was to see him again. She did and lost an eye in the process.
If the High Shaman has to die so that our family can be reunited, so be it.
She doubted the success of the operation from the start. The Sons of Toke were a zealous bunch, that much was true but they lacked equipment and supplies. And they were right in the middle of it.

Demos, the City to Rule All Cities.

Living in the Capital was not easy, even for the commoners. Especially if you were harboring fugitives. But Wilelda found a sort of kinship with the others. All veterans that the Dominion have left behind, in far flung lands. All nostalgic of calmer times, when one Alpha ruled. And they were willing to die to see those days reborn.
The parade was intermixed with Guards, all watching the crowds with weary, yellow eyes. Their black armor marked them out, however. Wilelda wondered how many agents worked undercover, right at that moment. How many were watching?
As they approached their target, she leaned closer to the comrade in front.
'Not much longer now. Disperse! We'll meet in the center.'
They agreed without looking at each other. Working in broad daylight was a new thing for the Sons. The High Command discussed ways to finish this operation, Wilelda was not present, but she heard others speak of this. They were thinking of a carriage full with explosives, baring the way. But it would've been too obvious.
By now, the High Shaman's priests have proven that the Treasurer's demise was not their doing. Besides, his lackeys were there as well, watching for any sign of disturbance. One false move and the whole plaza would go out in a blaze of hell-fire.
Daggers.
That was what they chose. It meant that Wilelda had to get close. She spotted the golden palanquin, way in front of the column.
There, there's the bastard now!
A thick row of heavy armed Uruk Gans barred her way. The others were in position. There was no time to waste! Now or never!
Wilelda dashed, sliding under the massive bronze shield of the first Uruk Gan who didn't even noticed her. She went on all fours, dagger in her mouth, zigzagging through the rows of stomping boots.
They were marching in perfect order, so perfectly that they hardly ever looked down! When she reached the wheel of the carriage, she halted, crawling underneath and grasping its axle as if it was the body of her beloved Oddus. She waited.
Then, she heard the distinct sound of screaming and the clamor of blades. It's starting.
The other two Sons distracted the Guards as she got into position. Her hand reached in and pulled at the velvet drape.
A girl was standing on the soft pillows, barely sixteen summers of age, instead of her designated target. Wilelda blinked, one moment of pure calm inside the chaos.
What's this? Who...
The girl grinned and through her tiny hands, bright golden flames gushed out in a pure torrent of light. Wilelda arched her entire body, her hair landing on the ground as she watched the fire gushing, inches away from her face. The heat scorched her delicate, ginger eyebrows.
She twisted and ran back into the safety of the crowd.
It's a bloody trap! They knew we were coming! They knew...
All her thoughts were ended when an Uruk Gan clasped her neck.

*

''Why meet us here, in the middle of the night?!'
The Estnaya riders were as nervous as their horses. Their steeds could smell the unholy stench of Uruk all over the yard. The night was dark and filled with silence.
'Haven't you heard? Our leader is a monster.' one of the Hoplites said. 'In bed with the Underworld.'
'I heard he eats men whole when he's angry.' a young recruit added.
'And I heard he drinks the blood of maidens.'
'Who cares?' a former Draculi soldier intervened. 'He's no different than any other rulers. They all dine on our blood, eventually.'
This made the other men chuckle. Outside the fortress' walls, the Faustian cannons were silent. For a change.
'How many out there?' the Hoplite pondered.
'More than us, that's for sure. ' said the Draculi. 'We won't get any mercy if those dogs get in.'
'If.'
'And who's going to stop them? Our dark lord? He spends more time in the dungeon, torturing his prisoner than with us.' scoffed the Estmaya Captain.
'That prisoner is the last of the Teutons. He's milking him for secrets.' the Draculi informed them.
'We're all dead.' the youngest of the riders whispered. 'Dead men. We died before we got here.'
'Could you lead us to victory, boy?' intervened the Demosian. 'Could any of you?'
No one answered. The wind howled through the parapets bringing to their ears the snores of the besiegers.
It was a comforting sound, for now.

*

'I imagine this must be hard for you.' he heard the monster's whisper in the dark and in his mind, at the same time.
'Watching your lineage vanish. It must be hard.'
'Go to hell.' the knight spat on the floor, from his cage.
'Are we not there yet?' Kubadai Achilleus grinned in the darkness.'Look around you, Teuton! Where is your God now? Where are his angels? Where are your knights? They couldn't even save that pretty woman of yours...' The man rattled the chains inside his cage. 'No use in hiding your thoughts. You think about her everyday. Helga, isn't it?' The demon licked his lips, in satisfaction, as if tasting the human's fear. 'Aye, she's very beautiful. Every time you fall asleep I see her image in my mind. She's the only good memory you got. Why her, of all the maidens of the land?
I imagined you Lords had the pick of the fairest galls in the Christian lands. Why pick a pagan woman as your mate?'
The Teuton listened in impotent silence as the beastman stalked through the chamber. 'Oh, I see. You're ashamed. We shattered your Order into the four corners of the world and you feel guilty for lusting over a barbarian's daughter. Daughter of the wild.
Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?'Kubadai Achilleus hissed at the human.
'Go to hell.' the knight said.
The vampire-lord grabbed the edges of the cage and rattled it, like a cat does with its toy.
'How repetitive! I saw your bloody Order extinguished into the fires of battle! I watched as our priests burned yours alive! How does your God allow this to happen?!'
The knight spat in the vampire's face. This did not anger Kubadai. He began to laugh.
'Ah, yes. The indomitable human spirit! I've read so much about it in books. Never thought I'd see a hero up-close and personal! Still...' he pattered his claws against the chains that kept the cage suspended.
'It must be hard, having your oppressor as your lord and master...'
'You're no lord of mine.'
The knight's voice was only a rasp. He had stood in chains for a long time but he was still very much alive.
This reaction seemed to please the vampire-lord. He descended from his vantage point.
'Face it, knight. Your God is dead. We killed him.'
The monster turned to face his victim.
'Tell me, knight. Will you be so brave... when you realize you are the only one left alive in this world? The last of your kind, the last human. Has a nice ring to it. And you'll be in my possession.'
Kubadai Achilleus circled the cage, his mouth twisted into a snarl that was perhaps, a smile in Uruk culture.
'I intend to cleanse Therra of all humans. Because they are an inferior race. And they must be destroyed. You've cost me a lot of Uruks, that much is true. Honestly? I wanted to have you skinned alive and presented as an example to the rest of the wretched lot. But... what point is terror, if you cannot taste it?'
With a quick dash of his armored glove, the Uruk pricked the Teuton's naked sole. The human felt the claw dig deep into his flesh but resisted his need to scream.
'Yes, be the hero, First Councilor. I'm sure everyone here appreciates it!'
Kubadai extended his arms, as if to present an invisible crowd.
'Your example is well-noted, knight. You will be remembered by scholars everywhere!'
'Just kill me already.'
He was tired of the monster's games. He heard it all before. There was nothing new that could impress him. No kind of torture.
'Why?' smiled the creature. 'When we're having so much fun!'
The giant oaken doors slammed opened and a group of humans barged in. A ragtag bunch they were. Mercenaries and turncoats. Traitors all, thought Philipp.
'What is it, Vaclav?' the vampire-lord snarled. 'Can't you see I'm busy here?!'
'The enemy is at the gate.' the dusky Estnayan said.
The large monster trotted behind the cage, keeping a space between him and the humans.
'Yes, I know that, Vaclav. I can hear them!'The cannons were singing outside, a strong reminder of the ongoing siege. The Faustians wanted their city back. 'What will you have us do?' demanded a large Hoplite, gold and bronze helmet obscuring his face, all except a bushy, black beard. The vampire-lord scrubbed his chin in a pensive manner. 'Nikanor...' he said. ' I want you... I want you in front. Take your men and hold the gates.' Nikanor bowed.
'It will be done, General!'
'Keep the bastards occupied.' the monster continued. 'My Uruks will take to the walls. Do not let anyone get in. You keep that ram away from the gate, defend it with your life. That is all.'
'As you command!' The Demosian bowed again and hit his shield with his spear.
'And Vaclav.' the Uruk General turned to the Estanayans. 'Wait for their center to break then you and your boys can pour sweet revenge into them.'
'Understood.'
It was the Estanayan's turn to bow.
He really has them eating out of the palm of his hand! The Teuton was astonished.
Before the delegation took its leave, Kubadai Achilleus gave one last, final shout.
'Ah, and Vaclav?!'
'Yes, master?'
'Bring me his head. I hear this one is a strategist!'

*

The very young Prince Helmut Faust watched as the siege unfolded. It was early morning and the defenses of Hoth were proving to be much more formidable than expected.

They will not give up without a fight, he thought, watching the parapets crawling with monstrous figures.

It was to be expected, he was facing Uruks after all! The beastmen were known to fight to the last, no matter the circumstances.
The cannons boomed beside him, stirring up his horse. The walls were crumbling, here and there but the fortress held fast. It was built by Faustian engineers, to counter the Otterbach's armies. It was meant to deflect most of the projectiles.

Now, the Prince had to find a way in. Tactically sound, schooled in warfare from a young age, Helmut knew how to make good use of his troops in opened terrain. Sieges frightened him and with good reason.
For a fortress was nothing more than a meat-grinder for the attacking force. He was watching his men bundled up together, in small coridoirs, going up ladders, only to face powerful monsters at the other end. There was no way to gain a foothold when there were Uruks defending the walls.
He saw Faustian Pikemen fleeing before a formation of bronze-shielded warriors that was guarding the main Gate.He also saw a siege tower being set ablaze, men hurling themselves to their doom in order to avoid being eaten by the flames. A second tower was unloading its cargo on the western wall. Convicts were jumping into the fray, waving their large swords around.

'Kein Chance wie die Verlorene Hoffnung.*' the young prince said to himself.

*


'Come, dog! Don't lag behind!' Kubadai Achilleus was in front of the troops, pulling on the chain wrapped around the human's neck.

He was parading him in front of the troops, a living testament of what happens to humans that disobey.

Philipp of Austria snarled like a caged beast as he was being dragged through the havoc of the unfolding battle.
After donning his armor and sealing his visor, the monster walked right into daylight, despite all the rumors. The vampire Uruk carried with him the famed Dracule sword, together with his chained, mortal nemesis.

They went through ranks of soldiers screaming, dying and fighting. Up and up, on the wall, they went, with the Teuton Knight stumbling over bodies.

Ebony skinned Uruks, still unturned, made their way to their lord and master. Kubadai looked menacing in his black armor, his visage obscured from sight by a gnarling mask. The others could recognize their leader only by the sculpted bat wings that donned his helmet.

'We're in the thick of it!' thought Philipp of Austria.

In his weakened state, he barely had the energy to walk. Yet the vampire-lord wanted him there to witness the glorious slaughter. And it was true. He saw Faustians dying everywhere. Kubadai Achilleus relished the fight, with one hand cutting the enemy down and with the other keeping his prisoner close. The Teuton watched as the Fang of the Dragon gleamed with each victim. It was as if the blade itself was drinking blood!

He saw the Folorn Hope being slaughtered to a man. Soon enough, a trumpet sounded the retreat. And all he could see was men's backs as they ran to safety. Prince Helmut himself was seen, escaping on his horse. Even the Estanaya riders couldn't reach him, so furious was his gallop.

*

Outside the city, the ground was littered with corpses. Vaclav was standing beside the vampire-lord. Philipp of Austria was still there, still chained, still humiliated.
'Five hundred fifty enemies dead, forty prisoners and ninety four of our own lost.' announced the Estanayan. Encased in his dark armor, the Uruk lord sounded even more evil than usual.
'Release the prisoners! There's been enough killing for one day.'
It was a clear and sunny day outside. Philipp desperately craved for some water. His lips were parched. 'Thirsty, Teuton? Here, have some juice! Feast on the blood of our foes!'
The hot liquid was splashed all over his face, before he could have a chance to speak. He spat and cussed, his eyelids sealed shut by the sweat and the muck.
'Oh, such harsh language! If only your precious Helga could see you now...'
The monster was whispering into his mind.
'Yes, Lord Marshall, I can read minds. There's so much more that I can do. Why don't you join me?'
The knight was trying to find a sword, but in his mind, he was naked.
'No use resisting, Lord Marshall. The battle is already won. Why must you suffer so? Do you think the High Inquisitor cares about your troubles? Do you think he even remembers you?'
'I am not Lord Marshal. I never was.'
'Oh, but you are to me. You see, your Order is almost extinct. You are the last Teuton knight in existence. What else could I possibly call you?' 'Out of my head, creature!' Philipp of Austria began to pray. 'Ah, yes. Religion... The comfort of weak, limited minds. But you are not like that, Lord Marshall. No, I see great strength in you.'
He would not listen to the beast's foul, blasphemous words anymore.
He had his faith and his piety would drown all sound. 'Wish it were true, Teuton.'
The knight opened his eyes.
'I'm afraid you must accept some magic into your life, knight. It is necessary. We all have.'
And for the first time in his life, Philipp of Austria was truly amazed. He was flying. No, they were both floating. 'No, this isn't a dream, Lord Marshall. You too can achieve this. If you only follow me. Then you'll see your beloved Helga again.'
Philipp was physically drained. He forgot how to pray. All those long nights spent in a cage have broken him.
No human face around to talk to, except his own.
Lost in a sea of monsters.
'I accept.' he said, at last.





* No chance as Lost Hope (germ.)

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty Four




Upon the conduct of each depends the fate of all.
-Arcadius the Saint





'Demos will burn! Hide your children when the time comes..'
The old man was still shouting when Tiberius Divinus made a end of it, with a quick thrust of his axe-sword. The square was filled with onlookers but the young Uruk didn't care. He lifted the beggar off the ground, ignoring the wet, steamy entrails as they hit the cobbled stones below.
'My lord?' An Uruk Gan was beside him, waiting patiently.
"What is it? ' Tiberius growled, through clenched jaws, watching the old man dying, impaled on his sword. All around him were worried faces: the ones of his Bodyguards, fearing the outrage of the common folk or the ones of the commoners, fearing his wrath.
They all despised him, more or less. But the situation was dire.
Uruk Gans mostly went out in pairs or in large groups now. Patrols vanished, day by day. The Sons were making progress all around the city. In the slums and in the brothels, their words were inscribed on every wall, at every corner.
Tiberius was in the middle of it all, getting bored of reading the same propaganda. Their crude messages spoke of a glorious return of a long, lost prince, the Alpha that would save everyone.
'Where is your Alpha now?' he asked the twitching human.
'I think you should see this.' the Uruk Gan continued.
They were of relatively the same size, even though one of them was technically, a youngster. Tiberius Divinus loathed the Gans for their status so he was known for breaking a few Gan heads. That's why his underling waited patiently for his reply. 'Better than this?' Divinus flared his nostrils and gazed at the dying man, still twitching.
Everywhere was the same. People too afraid to speak to him and always, the presence of the ever illusive enemy. Crushing an insurrection felt like chasing ghosts. His Gans, obvious targets, where attacked wherever they went, whereas the rebels mostly kept to the shadows. After the Attack on the Palanquin, the High Shaman's security had never been tighter.
Like a loose around a goat's neck... He wondered how long will the mad wizard hold on to power.
Depends on when the next strike will be. Will his Gans be ready? He was tempted not to intervene on the High Shaman's behalf.
Most of the Sons were Uruks, so they could expect a fair fight. No boom-sticks involved, no explosives.
Yet recent rumours spoke of a far different, more sinister truth: they were starting to hire from the Lesser Races now.
'Much better.' the Uruk Gan answered.

*

Wilelda was tied to a chair, much the same way as she was recruited.
Only this time, I'm missing an eye and a husband. The catacombs were silent enough so she could hear the booming steps of the incoming guards.
'Just get on with it!' she roared. 'Kill me already!'
The Gans brought a visitor to her chamber. He was tall, taller than most but by the quality of his skin and the state of his features, she could guess his age. Wilelda laughed in the face of the bulky brute.
'They bring a youngling to finish me off... How quaint. If this is all the Dominion has to offer then our victory is...'
Tiberius Divinus slapped her. The slap echoed through the hallway.
'Where is he? Where is Toke?'
The female seemed to be of noble birth. But she was of his race too, which meant she would not expire so fast.
He could take his time with her.
'Down my breeches.' Wilelda licked the blood off her lip. 'Care to have a look?'
Divinus struck her again. With his fist this time.
'Heh, you're quite brutal, lad!' she taunted him. 'Look, you made your boys twitch. They don't make Gans like they used to...' Divinus took out a knife and slashed her across the face. Wilelda screamed.
'Listen, you one eyed whore,' he spoke low, only for her ears. 'I'm getting tired of asking the same questions. You and I know where this ends so do us all a favor and spit it out!'
Spit she did, but in his face and only blood mixed with saliva.
'Do your worse, pup. I can take it.'
Divinus struck her again, her stomach this time. She gasped for air. While she recovered, the Uruk General used the knife to cut open her clothes. First, her shoulders were free, then, her hips.
'I'm going to feed you to my Gans. They never had a royal before.'
His voice was almost a whisper. She remained chained, under the gaze of a dozen Uruk Gans.
'It doesn't matter anymore. We've already won.'
She was smiling towards the ceiling, waiting for the end, her eyes closed.
'What do you mean?'
Tiberius grabbed her by her hair.
'Tell me!'
'You know what I'm talking about. You've seen the evidence with your own eyes. We're ... everywhere.'
And she was right, he had seen it. Divinus had noticed scrawny Reptarri appearing among the enemy dead. Or hairy Ly Kans. Sometimes, even worse: humans.
Those filthy creatures were the minority in Demos ever since its foundation. But they were a mischievous lot, always plotting to take control.
'You betrayed your own kind.'
Divinus went for the vulnerable spot. Wilelda laughed, her face filled up with blood.
'No, pup. You DID.'
In the hallway, a familiar sound rose. The sound of a blade being pulled from its sheath. It was followed by more. Divinus looked up.
The Gans all had their broadswords out. He always wondered when they would turn on him.
'Time to pay for your mistakes.' the Uruk woman whispered into his ear.
Divinus rose to his feet.
'Come on, then.'
When the first blade hit, he was already laughing.


*

[Boyar of Translavia]

The best Thera Fiction to date, very good imaginative story

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty Five



Life is a chessboard and the player opposite to you is TIME. He does not tolerate indecision.
-Sulla Hades



On the beach, everybody was preparing for the great landing, human and Uruk alike. They were loading weapons onto the transports with furious haste.
'Look at them, the fools!' snarled Gorun of the Seventh. 'They act as if Demos is two days away.'
'We don't have enough ships.' declared Geru of the Saint's Chosen. 'These boats won't take us all the way. They can't.'
He was right. The longboats they got from a few misguided Valhalla raiders were not suitable for the long journey. We cannot cross an ocean with these, thought Geru. What does he want from us?
'Victory, lad.' Gorun grunted. For a moment, Geru thought the Berserker could read his mind. 'Victory is all that matters. Nothing else.'
'Aye, that's true.'
His answer was lost in the howling sea breeze. His eyes spotted a familiar figure, a pale shade of gold among so many grey or black manes. He knew her name, from before landing on Jotunheim.
Tessa the Giantess.
She was the only human woman on the island yet none could touch her, man or monster.
'Careful, boy.' he heard Gorun's voice near him. 'That's the Bosses woman you're ogling.'
But Geru was transfixed, lost in thought. Lost in the moment.
'He doesn't like that.' he answered absentmindedly.
'None at all.'
He felt Gorun's fist hit his jaw before he could see the arm rising. Fast... for a veteran. But before he could unsheathe his axe-sword he saw the reason why the old one struck him.
The Immortal himself, Spartacus Hades marched by, going pass them and straight to his loving wife's arms. She giggled as the beastman rose her from the ground, in his massive arms.
'Thanks.' Geru spat blood on the sand.
'Don't mention it.' answered Gorun, still watching the Immortal and his bride. He would've killed me if he saw the way I was looking at her.
'You know, she's not for you.'
The elder was right. Geru couldn't help but grin. They were far enough from the Immortal so he could speak freely.
'She went from me, to Toke One-Eye, to Spartacus the Immortal. She's a survivor.'
The Berserker chuckled.
'Aye, that she is. And more. Much more.'
They heard the horn blowing and both knew what it meant. Enemy approaching. Both Uruks took out their blades, at the same time and both ran towards the source of the noise.
'Who is it? The Faustians? The Paynali?' demanded Gorun from a young Ly Yar, whose eyesight was better than his.
'No.' the young lad said, gazing at the horizon. 'I think it's the...'
Then, they saw it. Big, menacing, dark and waiting in the middle of the sea. Her sails were pitch black as well. All sailors knew her name.
'The Lady of Vengeance!' Geru heard her name spoken by a thousand mouths. Never saw her in person.
From her belly, a tiny rowboat came, dancing above the waves. They waited, all holding their collective breath. It was a bad sign, those who seen her sail did not live to tell the tale.
The delegate was an elegant bastard, his lavish costume showing the amount of wealth collected over years of raiding foreign shores.
'The Privateers send their regards, Great Alpha!'
The human took off his plumed tricorne hat and accomplished a poor excuse for a reverence, which almost send him on his face, in front of the Immortal and his tall wife.
He's drunk, thought Geru, in disgust. They send us a drunk to offend us.
'Not Alpha yet, human.' snarled Spartacus Hades. 'What do you want?'
'Ah, straight to the point!' the pirate curled the tip of his white mustache with his fingers. ' That's what I like about you Uruks! Always to the matter of things! Never a dull moment. No room for small talk...'
He was still struggling to maintain balance.
'Aw'right, pleasantries aside, allow me to intr'duce m'self: name's Sid, Sid the Squid. And my ... my...'
The pirate snapped his fingers and stared at the sky, as if trying to find the words written there.
'...Employer!' he exclaimed. 'My employer ... wants to have a word.'
The last thing he said seemed to melt in his mouth. He flicked his lips as if he was tasting sugar. Such a disgusting creature!
'Let me end him.' Gorun whispered to his master.
The Immortal did not allow him this. He came down the beach and approached the delegate.
'Tell your master' Spartacus rose his clawed finger towards the pirate's face 'that if he wants to talk, he has to come and face me. By himself.'
This did not pleased the Privateer representative. He shook his head as if trying to wake up from a bad dream.
'No...no...no. You don't understand.'
Chose your next words carefully, human, Geru thought, watching the scene. For they may be your last.
'Erick Blacke is the last Greystoke. In the whole ... stinking world! An' tradition says a Greystoke must stay with his ship. So ... he never leaves his ship. So...'
The delegate smiled, unfazed by the Immortal's sheer bulk.
'Either you come willingly, willy-nilly... or we blow this whole place to bits!'
To a wave of the delegate's hat, the Lady Vengeance roared. Her cannons spat a full volley that hissed above the Uruks' heads and blasted a good portion of the island's icy shore. The pirate generated a sly smile.
'There. That avalanche should keep your soldiers busy for a while. Come now, let's not make my... master wait!'
The Immortal gazed at Gorun and Geru.
'You two. With me. The rest of you, watch my bride.'
All Berserkers gathered around Tessa, shielding her with their muscled bodies. No one would harm her until the Immortal returned.
'If this is a trap, human...' Spartacus whispered to the Privateer.
'You die first.'

*

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty Six




It was a great surprise to me when I discovered that the ugliness I saw in others was merely a reflection of myself.
-Arcadius the Saint



'This blasted heat will be the end of me!' rasped Xenos Caligula, through curled lips. His onyx skin shined with perspiration.
'I think an obsidian blade will end you quicker!' the mighty Brutus Noctis replied.
'Is that what you wish for me?'
'I wish that for us all.'
They both chuckled and continued their walk on the beach, the heavy boots disturbing the pale, golden sand. Like all Uruks, the generals were dressed in black and they kept a safe distance from their Mesocalan slaves.
'What's this monstrosity?' Brutus the Brown-Bear observed.
The massive cannon was being brought to shore by hundreds of slaves pulling on heavy chains. Its sheer bulk was impacting the scenery, leaving a gash in the shore like a deep wound.
'That, my friend, is the key to all of this. It's a war-winner! A victory weapon! With this, we will break the walls of Tenochtitlan. We brought her all the way from Syrianna.'
'The Monster-Bombard.' said the Brown Bear.
'You already know her name, yet you play the fool. You surprise me, brother!' remarked Xenos Caligula.
'I'm not your brother!' Brutus Noctis snarled.
'No, clearly, you're not.'
There was a lot of commotion at the far end of the beach. The slaves had found something and it was making them nervous. Mesocalans communicated more with gestures than words but the fear was obvious on their faces.
'Looks like trouble' whispered the Onyx Uruk. 'Keep your eyes peeled.'
'Don't worry about me.' the Brown Uruk already drew out his broadsword. 'I'll be just fine.'
They made their way through the masses of curious onlookers. Even some Ly Kans were there, present to watch the show.
'Holy Callisto!' Xenos Caligula whispered, when he saw what the sea had brought in.
It was an Uruk, almost bare but still breathing. His long, black hair was covering his face. Lack of clothing meant no way of establishing rank or loyalty. All they could see was that he was strong and brown-skinned.
'A relative of yours?'
'Shut your yap.' Brutus Noctis growled. 'Now is not the time for one of your silly jests!'
He disliked Xenos Caligula's bad humor as much as Xenos Caligula liked to tease him with it. The Brown Bear lifted the stranger on his back, as if he was carrying a wounded comrade from battle.
'Where am I?' the foreigner spoke, his voice weak from exertion.
'You're in the land of the plenty! The home of the many and refuge of the few! The last bastion before final victory!' Xenos Caligula mused.
'The place where women stab you in your sleep and even children are not to be trusted.'
'Just tell 'im where we are!' Brutus Noctis roared.
Upon hearing the name of the continent, the stranger growled:
'Mesocala? No... no... I... I drifted too far! Put me down!'
The Brown Bear obliged.
'Who are you?' the Onyx Uruk winced, as if trying to guess the stranger's identity. There was more to him than brown skin and muscles.
'You pups don't know me.' the foreigner grinned 'But I am famous down south.'
The jungle all around them went silent, for a moment, as if the birds and animals themselves were waiting for the answer.
'You can call me Xenos, for I am a stranger in these lands.' he said, with a sad look in his eyes.
'Xenos Secundus! For I am the first Xenos in Mesocala.' the Onyx Uruk intervened.
'Xenos Secundus then...'
Brutus Noctis scratched the back of his head.
'What were you down south?'
The stranger gazed down, his yellow eyes glowing with silent anger.
'No one. I was no one.'
Even the Brown-Bear could sense a lie.

*

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty Seven





Nations mean nothing to me.
-Branwen O'Neill



The O'Neills were the first vampires on Tethra. Then came the O'Connors, the O'Briens, O'Ryans and O'Keevans, the Burkes and the Gallaghers, the McCains and McClellans, the Campbells and Connollys, Fergusons and Kellys, the McShanes and McWraths.
The Flannagans were among the last to be inducted.
In all of Tethra, the only tribe who refused the dark powers were the McCleods.
'No son of mine will ever be a vampire!' Angus McCleod, their Taoiseach* declared.
The other tribes united against them. Atha Tara, ancestral home of all McCleods was placed under siege. During the night, the besiegers burned and took the castle only to retreat in the morning. The next day, the survivors hunted down their vampiric brethren and destroyed them in their hideouts.
It was a hideous, strange affair.
'We should kill all their women and children.' Aed O'Neill proposed. 'They'll surrender then.'
'If we do that, we're no better than the Uruks.'
Branwen, his sister and leader of all the clans, rejected the idea.
On the twelfth day, she met with the McCleods chieftain, in a cave, near Tara.
'Give up, old man. You're surrounded. I am the only thing standing between you and total annihilation.'
The warchief snorted.
'We'll never give up, vile creature.'
Branwen squinted her still green eyes.
'You're not our enemy. The Uruks are.'
'So leave. Take your monsters with ya.'
Outside, a cold wind was blowing. No one spoke a word. They all waited for a conclusion, vampire and human alike.
'My tribes can wipe your clan out in a blink of an eye. But that will leave Thetra empty of all life.'
'Isn't that what you want?' Angus McCleod spat.
The Undead Queen fought back tears.
'No, I wanted Gaelics to be strong. Strong enough to kill all Uruks. That's all I ever wanted.'
'Go and slay them. Leave us be.'
'Aye, but I can't leave the whole island to ya.' Branwen smirked. 'We'll go to Demos but I'll leave the Flanagans here to watch you.'
'Old Connal hates my guts.'
'Aye. But he's a man of his word. An honorable man. I trust him. And he'll keep you safe, should any Uruk war parties land.'
The Taoiseach was silent.
'Accept and I'll let you live. Refuse and I'll rip that gray head off your shoulders.'
'You won't kill all the living in Thetra.'
Branwen fixed him with her inhuman eyes.
'Try me.'
The old warchief gasped.
'You're mad!'
Her smile showed him her pearl white fangs.
'I've already lost a son. Nations mean nothing to me.'
That night the living and the dead made a pact. No more Gaelic blood was to be spilled. The next night, the Undead Queen and all the vampire clans sailed off for Hesperos.


*-Chief in Gaelic

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty Eight




Wine. Wine and more women.
-Ullon the Unworthy, his last words, after being asked if he wanted anything



The hall was quiet except for his labored breathing. Water was falling on Tiberius Divinus' ravaged face. He still lived despite their efforts.
He had no idea why.
Because he was strong. Maybe that's why. A hundred blades could not finish the job.
He would laugh if his mouth wasn't torn to pieces. The Gans in their fury went for the face. They didn't decapitate him though. No, they just... mutilated him.
Small steps echoed in the big hall. He couldn't turn his head to see who it was. Big gashes were all across his chest and neck. All he could do was breathe and wait for the final blow.
Go on, then. I'm ready.
He would roar if he had any power left. One of his arms was gone. Torn at the shoulder. Classic Academy move: disarm the opponent then finish him off.
Too bad.
He bled through countless wounds yet he was alive.
Tiberius Divinus stared at the ceiling. Noises were coming from upstairs.
They're going after the High Shaman. They should be reaching his chambers now. The fools...
He could hear their heavy footsteps. In his mind's eye, he pictured the rebel Gans huddled together in the tight, dark alley which led to the Treasury. Their target was on the second floor. There, only the elite could enter. The High Shaman's Antechamber.
Where he tortured his slaves... and friends alike.
Again, Tiberius Divinus wanted to smile. All he saw was the large dome of the ceiling, dust raining down as crowds were gathering in the plaza above. Then he felled the heat. It was reverberating through the stone walls, heating up the marble under him.
Despite his wounds, the Uruk chuckled.
Like fish in a furnace...
The Dark Priests of Callisto. The Dominion's Secret Wardens. The Gatekeepers.
The High Shaman's Elite Guard. It wasn't the Uruk Gans who truly protected him. Many did not know this.
'Are you awake?'
It was the girl, the dusky girl from Syrianna, the slave he rescued. Her voice annoyed him. Tiberius wanted to shout.
Leave, wench. I'm trying to die.
'Don't move. You've been damaged.'
Damaged. That's a nice way of putting it. More like mauled. Broken. Cut to pieces. Dismembered. The Uruk way.
He remembered his one-eyed Lanista, from back in the Academy days. His voice was clear as daylight:

'Remember, the first action you take, when holding a sword-axe in your hand, is to cut your enemy down, whatever the means!
Whenever you hit, parry, strike or dodge the enemy's blade, you must always seek to cut him at the same time. Waste no energy on anything else! That is the Uruk way.'

Tiberius Divinus smiled on the inside. He missed the old bugger. Did he survive the Purge of Sinister Seleukos?
A sharp pain entered his brain. Yes, it was real. It was happening.
The girl was elevating his wounded head.
'Drink this.'
The liquid poured down his parched throat. Now it will spray out of me, through all these new holes I've acquired.
'We must get you to a safe place.'
Why bother? I'm as good as dead. Let me lie here !
Tiberius Divinus growled as the young woman lifted his remaining arm. She tried to move him but he was too heavy for her.
I should've never saved you! I should've left you there for the High Shaman's pleasure!
'I can't... You're too large. Wait here. I'll... uuh... I'll get help!'
Who are you going to get? A Ly Kan? A Ly Yar? Whose left loyal in this cursed place?!
Her footsteps died into the distance. Tiberius wanted to shout after her. But he lacked the strength. For the first time in his life, he was mute. And vulnerable.
Won't be long now. He allowed himself to fall back on the marble.
A Gan will find me... Finish the job....Do it proper.
Darkness overcame him.

*

The icy winds howled outside, reminding them that they were crossing the Sea of Always Winter. The ship reeked of gunpowder and dead fish. The movements of the waves was making the Uruks uneasy. They were used to having the ground under their feet.
'Welcome on board the Lady of Vengeance!' their scrawny guide announced, taking off his three horned hat.
'She's never seen the likes of you before!' the pirate winked as the beastmen entered the hall.
His bald head shone like the moon above the sea.
Filthy human! The Uruk General tried to hide his disgust but that one thought escaped. It was a strange room, filled with nothing practical except coffers loaded with coins, jewelry, swords and silverware.
'No trophies, no heads of champions, no trace of honor...' Spartacus Hades grunted in Black Speech to his guards.
The Great Uruk hated the Greystokes already. Such futile display of worthless objects. As if these trinkets could train warriors.
'Apologies, Great Leader!' a voice boomed across the lower decks. 'Please pardon our mess!'
A tall, handsome man sat on a simple, wooden chair, which was garnished with various firearms, ready at his disposal. The Lord Commodore looked much too young for his title but there was something in his lack of gesturing that suggested authority.
' Eric the Black, last of the Greystokes, at your service. Room's not to your liking?' the pirate squinted his eyes, as if trying to guess the Uruk's thoughts. 'Guess it's true what they say about us, we are a grubby lot!'
His thin, black mustache was the only thing distinguishing him from the rest of his crew.
'I would've flogged my marines if I knew you were coming.'
The Uruk Commander said nothing. He towered above all , his presence imposing without any effort from him.
'Not here to talk, pirate. Say your words or leave us be.'
Erik Blacke did not react to the veiled threat. He pursed his lips, in an unsavory smile.
'You Uruks don't like the sea, so I won't take much of your time.'
He rose to his feet and pulled on a cord dangling from the ceiling. A huge, detailed map of Thera was revealed, formerly obscured from view by long, black curtains.
'Let me bring your army back to the homeland. We have the fastest ships in the world. I'll get you there before any reinforcements and you'll be crowned King of Demos, in no time!'
The Uruk General was not convinced.
'We don't wear crowns. What's in this for you, human?'
The Lord Commodore extended his arms, his hawkish shadow falling on the map, across the Sea of Souls.
'Plunder. What else?'
'No Uruk will fight for you, Outlander. This is our fight. Our war. No need for outsider interference.'
'You don't have ships. I do.'
This brought silence to the room. The Pirate Lord kept quiet, allowing the Uruk time to think.
'You'll get there before the opposition.' Erik Blacke whispered. 'Think about it.'
He was close enough for the Uruk to smell his breath. This one does not drink. All the other pirates reeked of rum.They're all drunk. Except for him.
'We agree to your words.' the Uruk growled. 'But if you turn on us, human...'
He grabbed hold of the Commodore's shoulder.
'Aye, aye, I know. I shall be the first to go.' said the last of the Greystokes.
'No' said the Immortal. 'You'll die last. I'll make sure of it.'
The Pirate Lord smiled as if he was an innocent child.
'You don't have to worry about that. We're Privateers, not conquerors.'
Both of them were about the same height. The room was silent. Both Uruks and pirates were ready to pounce.
'Now' Eric Blacke slapped his thigh' ... my monster of a friend.
Let's celebrate!'

*

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixty Nine



All the rumors you've heard about these creatures are true. In reality, they are much, much worse.
-Anna Hades, former Romuli, in a letter to her mother



'What do you see?'
The High Shaman bowed in front of the boy, not out of reverence but out of curiosity.
'A tree. A very large tree.' said the youngster, keeping his eyes shut.
'Where are you?'
'Outside. I can feel the air on my face.'
The High Shaman's eyes glowed yellow in the darkness of the holding cell.
'Are there others with you?'
'No, I am alone.'
The boy was shackled and malnourished and still the Guards were unsure if it was safe.
'It's safe. If I say so, then it's safe.' the Great Leader reassured them.
But still, he could feel their gaze upon the lad.
'Leave us!'
'But sire... the rebels...' the Uruk Gan captain intervened.
'...Will be taken care of! Isn't that so, Thauk*?'
There was fighting in the streets but that did not concern the High Shaman. He chose to ignore the clamor.
The work. All that matters is the work.
'As you wish, my lord.' Thauk bowed his white head and snored at the others.
They all left the room, blades clanging against their armor.
'What was that?' the boy inquired, sweat covering his brow.
'Oh, just tools of war, my child. Don't worry your precious little head. Now... let's get back to the tree. What else do you see?'
The boy swallowed and gave a sigh.
'Grass. Tall grass. There's...'
The High Shaman turned his head so the boy could speak in his ear.
'...There's a sea of grass. It goes on. Forever.'
Long, pale fingers clutched together as the old man tried to halt himself from laughing.
'And what else?'
'The sky. It's not... it's not the usual color. It's more... Wait.'
The boy jumped in his chair.
'What is it?!' the High Shaman rasped.
'There's a ... face.... in the ground, under my shoe. I...'
'Tell me more!'
The youngster's face was twisting in the agony of despair.
'No, something's wrong. The sky is changing. Please, let me go... It's... it's raining blood. The ground is made of faces! I can't...'
Just as the Shaman was about to touch him, the boy opened his eyes and screamed. Two torrents of fire flowed freely from his sockets. Flames engulfed the ceiling.
'Yes, yes! That's it, boy! Let it come! Don't hold back! Let it all out!'
The High Shaman was ecstatic. He could feel the heat of the flames as the fire ate away the air in the room.
The gates slammed opened and the Uruk Gans rushed in.
'Sire, the rebels are in the courtyard! We must get you out! We're...' Thauk saw the boy and forgot his train of thoughts.
'Keep them back! ' the High Shaman hissed, pale lips showing rows of fangs. 'All that matters now is this boy and what he sees!'
Thauk's dark face glistened from the fires and desperation could be seen in his eyes.
'But sire, we are the last ones left.'
The High Shaman pressed a thin, white hand upon his armored chest.
'Then you know what to do, Gaur.'
The Uruk Gan clenched his jaw. He pressed his fist against his heart.
'For the Dominion...' he whispered.
They were all going to die there. But it mattered not. The High Shaman turned to the boy and smiled.
'Tell me what you see....'
But Fulk could not speak anymore.
All he could do was scream.

*


*knife, in Black Speech

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Seventy




Remember, everything you do must be a reason for slashing.
Never forget this.
-Ugo Grim



When the Priests appeared at the end of the back-alley, Wilelda was the first to hit the ground.
And the only one.
Her brothers-in-arms were caught in the torrent of fire. The tight passage offered the worshipers of Callisto a perfect line for their flames to strike true. She felt the scorching heat on her back as she laid flat on the once cold cobblestones.
The smell of burning flesh and the sound of screaming overwhelmed her senses. In the end, all the Sons were dead, crisped to the bone and cooked in hellfire, like so many others before them.
The dark robbed warlocks were walking among the bodies now, seeking for signs of life. A naked, pink foot slapped the heated cobblestone next to her face.
Wilelda had long clasped her own mouth to prevent any sound from leaving. Under the cover of a dead, burned brother, she listened to the priests speaking to each other in their strange and forgotten language. No one knew the arcane words, except for them.
The Sacred Tongue, it was called. Yet another of their well-kept secrets.
You were only taught to speak it after you brought forth your first flame from your fingers. Wilelda had heard this, somewhere, long ago, when she was but a small child. She couldn't remember who told her.
Could've been an acolyte who told her this. Who knew?
Soon, the voices and the steps faded into the distance. The alley was empty now, except for the corpses.
Wilelda looked up with her one good eye. The sky above looked serene and uncaring towards the troubles of mortals below.
It just existed, clear blue and punctuated by white, puffy clouds.
She stood. Sole survivor in a sea of death.
Time to find Oddus and be done with this farce.

*

On the beach, there was silence.
All the Uruks and the camp folk were quiet as the Lady of Vengeance sailed away.
Gorun and Geru stood next to each other, in the cold wind. Nothing was said, not even a grunt.
'He left us! He left us behind...'
A small, unassuming Uruk approached them. He looked too weak and sickly to carry a sword.
'Well, this is the end of my expedition.' the weakling continued.
'You talk too much.' growled Gorun.
'Leave him be.' Geru grunted.
The question on everyone's mind was 'why'. Why did the Immortal see fit to leave them on a deserted island?
'We're not worthy, that's what it is.'
The weakling said what everybody else was thinking.
The Lady of Vengeance was a spot on the horizon. There goes hope. Geru looked at the other veteran.
'What now?'
Gorun's face was a symphony of scars.
'Now we go, each his own way.'
After all we've been through, this is how it ends.
'So long, Gorun of the Seventh.'
'So long, Geru of the Saint.'
They touched foreheads and parted ways. The small one trailed behind Geru.
'Mind if I tag along?'
Geru didn't answer. He was watching the groups of stragglers. Their faces grim, their eyes dark.
Won't be long now.
'I'm good with the quill but I'm dung with the axe-sword. That is why I'm here.'
The cold winds were covering the weakling's voice but he kept on talking.
'Callista, help me! I swear I'll marry the first woman I see, if you get me out of here!'
He hardly wore any armor, just furs dangling together. Geru would've felt sorry for him if he could feel.
But the constant pain in his head left room for nothing else.
That's when they found her.

What was left of her anyway.
'This is not what I meant!' the small one was yelling to the skies.
Blond hair flowing in the wind, blond hair on a human head no longer attached to a body. Geru recognized her instantly.
Tessa the Giantess. Wife of the Immortal. She was all over the place.
The Berserkers, in their rage, had torn her apart. A leg here, a hand there. A huge red stain in the snow. That's all that remained.
'Thank you, Goddess! Oh, Merciful One! But I would've preferred it if she was whole!'
The scrawny Uruk was gathering her remains. It looked like he was trying to build a funeral pyre. In the middle of snow-storm.
'Leave her!' Geru roared in the howling wind.
He was watching the other Uruks. His brothers were restless. It's starting.
'We must go, weakling! NOW!'
The weakling understood. He threw away the remains and got to his feet. Geru stared at an isolated group of Uruks, standing on a hill in front of them. All were showing signs of the sickness.
Limbs twitching, eyes glowing and fangs showing.
'It's coming, isn't it?' the small one whimpered.
Geru said nothing but reached down to grasp the hilt of his axe-sword.
'Stay behind me.'
The weakling didn't say a word. In the cold wind, they both saw it clearly. Like an invisible wave, it move through the ranks.
The old familiar madness.
'Black Rage! Oh, Holy Callisto!'
One after another, all the Uruks went crazy. They began slaughtering the camp followers, then turned on each other. Some used their axe-swords, some their bare hands.
'This is why Spartacus left us behind. This is why!'
Geru pushed onward, through the heavy snow, ignoring the feeble one's wailing. A massive Uruk fell in front of them, impaled by three axe-swords at once. He was still breathing when Geru leaned over him.
'Die well, brother.'
The Saint's Chosen finished him off, with an axe-sword through the throat.
'Take it!' he gave one of the swords to the weakling.
'But... I'm a poet not a warrior!'
'Fight or die, poet. Fight or die.'


*

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Seventy One




Ah, the gory business of close killing: the screaming, the hacking, the terror in your victim's eyes.
All the joys of being Uruk!
-Ugo Grim


The Prince hated his woman. At first, it felt like a small wonder: waking up to her small body, every day, this strange, new person, mysterious in her submissive, all-too-human ways. But in time, the miracle faded.
The Council of Demos demanded that each princeling and Uruk of noble origin, must take a slave woman to bed, to assure the continuation of lineage. But he didn't care about his Dynasty.
He hated her. Only sixteen summers of age, the Prince discovered he had taste. Everything he wanted out of a suitable mate, she didn't have.
He liked his women tall, pale and golden haired. His slave-wife was small, dark skinned and black-haired. One of those dark skin types from Syrianna.
Laughable, he thought to himself. I would laugh if it wasn't so sad.
The Council ruled over his life, presiding over each and every decision, choosing in his stead, what he should eat, drink or love. Every morning he would wake up next to the same woman and every morning, he would put as much space between them as possible.
She didn't seem to mind. The wretched fool...
He didn't have time to pity her. All those practice sessions, horsemanship and handling the axe-sword took up most of his days. In any case, she was a slave. Her lot was meant to be ruled.

If humans aren't kept in check, they just keep slaughtering each other forever.

His history professor told him once. So we're really doing them a favor, he thought. Burning their homes, taking their women. It's all for their sake, not ours.
It smelled like ox dung to him. Even from a young age, the princeling could see through the propaganda.
'From a purely biological point of view, we are superior.' he told his tutor. 'We are the strongest race on Thera. Our mission is to lead by example, not force.'
Of course, he was ignored. His ideas were nothing more than cheerful delusions of a young mind to mature Uruks.
'Careful, young one,these opinions are dangerous. . Your mind is still forming but that's no excuse from spouting such nonsense. The High Shaman has burned people for less.'
Ah, yes, the ruling hand of theocracy.
When Demos was on the brink of civil war, the priesthood intervened and took all power away from the generals and the nobles. It was divine mandate. Callisto wills it! they said.
'We want it!' would've been a far more accurate statement. From that day on, the Prince understood one thing: he was a thinker and thinking too much got you killed.
So he kept his opinions to himself.

He was half Romuli, from his mother's side. A descendant of Sulla Hades, from his father's side. He knew how other Uruks saw him. He could feel their gaze on the long corridors of the palace. Even the guards hate me.
So he lost himself in training. He didn't need no dusky woman from a far away land. He didn't need friends or allies. He found all he wanted in combat. The clash of swords. The dance of blades.
Training, day in, day out.

'You have to be ready when they come for you.' Gennadius, his father, told him this, one day.
'And they will. Because you have what they don't have.'
'What's that?' he asked.
His father pressed a finger on his chest, right on his heart.
'Legitimacy. It's in your blood.'
That was the last time he saw his father.

'Yes, Varg*. What is it?'
Even with his back turned, he could still feel the presence of his trusted Bodyguard. The burly veteran's low growl filled the empty, dinning hall with echo.
'Rebels have been spotted near Fulgora.'
'Finally.' the Prince said, laying down his fork on the plate. 'Some action.'
He was a Hadessa. Last of his kind.
And he didn't care.


*chain (in Black Speech)

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Seventy Two




Arcadius did not indulge himself in drink.
It is for this reason alone that the troops started calling him 'The Saint'.

-Lives of the Alphas
Ulon the Unworthy




The sword was a replica, of course.
Fashioned by the most skilled artisan in the Dominion, true in its finest detail, yet a forgery in essence. Sten knew it, from the moment he saw it. No hand could change the fact that the wood looked fresh, too fresh to be near a hundred years old.
'This isn't the Rudis of the Dominion.' he addressed the matter, wholeheartedly.
'No, it is not.' the Usurper rasped. 'Because I have the original, in my hand.'
Sten Volchok's massive bulk shook as he stopped himself from laughing.
'That... is a wet twig.'
The other growled, frustrated and angry.
'This was the sword of Slavos! This is the true thing! I found it in the woods and now it is mine! This is proof that I should be Alpha!'
They found him in the mountains, near a valley where bandits operate. The Gans would've killed him, if it wasn't for the object he carried.
The Uruk general scratched his hairless chin.
'No, that is proof that you are an idiot. You were an idiot before you found it and you are an idiot now.'
The Usurper bared his fangs. Sten didn't react.
'You're nothing but an upturned Captain who thinks he found meaning to his meaningless life. You need that twig in your life, more than I need it.'
'The truth will come out! Kill me but you can never silence it!'
The giant Uruk grinned, his eyes watching the ceiling.
'I don't need to kill you, worm. You were dead even before you found that thing.'
The other Uruks kept quiet, watching the scene as it unfolded. Sten talked with his eyes closed, a smile still on his dark face.
'You think a piece of plywood gives you a title? Does a splinter make a prince out of a beggar?'
No one laughed. They were all listening.
'Look at this!' Sten unveiled the replica. 'This is the true sword of Slavos. My Uruks found it. It is a sign from Callisto herself. What you have is a rotten slice of forgotten past. No one cares for a splinter. They care for what it represents.'
The rebel Captain blinked, still clutching the relic to his chest.
'You'll burn alongside your precious trinket. No one will miss either of you. And you want to know why?'
Sten lowered his giant skull, as if getting ready to ram his rival.
'Because no one cares about the past.'
He waited for his words to have an effect.
'Slavos understood the meaning of symbols. That piece of wood meant 'Freedom!' to every Uruk who has ever lived in chains and served and died in the arena. It meant being treated like a rational being, not an animal to be slain for entertainment.
Now? No Uruk dies this way. So why should we care?'
The Uruk leader was silent now, watching his foe, recollecting his thoughts.
'They will avenge me.'
'Who?' Sten asked, still bemused.
'The Council.' spat the Usurper. 'They won't let me die like a dog.'
You are a dog, Sten almost said. But he chose a more cautious route.
'Say I let you keep your trinket and you walk out of this fort alive. What then? What will you do?'
The Captain lowered his gaze.
'I will look for support. And I will fight you.'
'You still believe Uruks will follow you, just because of your twig?'
He needed no answer from the rebel. So he snapped his fingers.
'Dhaub*, take a look at this! Is that the sword of Demos?'
The tall, black Bodyguard roared.
'No, it is not!'
'Nalt**? What do you say?'
Another Gan gave out a shout.
'It is a wet twig, my lord!'
Volchok raised his replica towards the ceiling.
'How about you, Staz *** ? What do you think? Is this the sword of Slavos?'
The third Gan did not hesitate.
'Yes, it is!'
The general grinned.
'Why, Staz?'
'Because you are holding it!'
Volchok turned to the rebel.
'You see, worm?'
The Gans grabbed the rebel Captain, without a warning. He didn't had time to scream.
Quickly, the fragment left his hands and was given to Volchok. The General looked down on it, almost regretful.
'You should remember this.'
Sten threw the Rudis of the Dominion into the fire.
'Power resides where people think it does.'



*agony (in Black Speech)
** alone (in Black Speech)
*** beast (in Black Speech)





© art by Camille Alquier

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Seventy Three




We are the strongest race on Thera. Our mission is to lead by example, not force.
-Sundak Hades, last descendant of the Hadessa



'I was there when Toke died.'

The blind veteran said.
The recruits gathered closer, holding their collective breaths. It was a rare time, indeed, to hear about a legend.
'It was during the First Battle of Hoth*, you see?
We had those Valiente dogs surrounded. They were led by their First Minister, a young pup of barely fifteen summers. Fernan, I think, was his name.'
None dared interrupt him. So he carried on with the story.
'It was hot, as it usually is, in Ibellica. You know, by now, how we Uruks love heat.'
That got a few approving grunts from the other veterans present. The old warhound knew how to tell a tale.
'We were just finishing off the Valientes, some lads even took down Fernan from his horse. Can't remember who, could've been our lads or some pikemen of the Free Companies**. That was when the Faustians appeared.'
Some Uruks spat on the floor, at the mere sound of the name.
'Aye' the old Uruk continued 'no declaration of war, no warning. Just their banners and horses on the horizon. They came to relieve a dead man!'
Even the tavern wenches were listening now.
'Toke, who was called Ragnvald, at that time, routed the Valientes, killed most of their army but found himself trapped between the city gates and the advancing Faustian army.'
A moment of silence followed, just enough for the old Uruk to catch his breath and hold back curses.
'He charged headlong, Callisto bless his heart! Straight into the ranks of the enemys! It was Faustian pikemen that did him in. As for the rest of us, we stood no change against their Grenadiers and Line Infantry. They poured murderous fire upon us so we had to pull back. We didn't retrieve his body. He lay there, for a whole week, where he fell, lanced through by hundreds of pikes. '
He stopped once more, as listeners imagined the scene.
'That is how Toke One-Eye died.' concluded the veteran.
'NO!' a voice ran up from the crowd. 'He didn't die there!'
A one legged Ly Kan stepped forward, jumping on his good leg and holding his crutches tight.
'I know how he died, for I was there!'
The crowd turned to face him. The blind Uruk growled.
'Enlighten us, dog.'
'Yes' the Ly Kan licked his snout. 'It was at the Second Battle of Hoth***, not the first! It was winter, not summer! And it was the first time the Faustians used their KPG's **** on us! But we had the Priests of Callisto and they set the entire field aflame!'
The wolfman showed off his charred stump.
'That's how I lost this leg.'
This caused a stir in the crowd.
'You lie, dog!'
The giant who spoke commanded respect. All the drunkards, beggars and harlots moved out of his way. He was a Gan, judging by his insignia and white hair.
'I was there and there were no Priests! Taurus Vlad commanded us and Toke was nowhere to be seen. We took the city without any withcraft. Aye, Kaiser Pike Guardsmen were there and they died to the last man. We took their clothes and equipment. The enemy commander, a dog named Erhart was killed by a musketball. To this day, no one knows who fired the killshot.'
The werewolf was silent now. He just bared his fangs in submission.
'The Faustians were so afraid that two of their Line Infantry regiments remained outside the city! They didn't dare to scale the walls, as honest Uruks would!'
No one dared challenge the giant Gan, either. Except for a small girl, in the corner.
'Look at you, fools, bickering over who did what and who died when.'
The monster turned towards her, his hand grasping the handle of an enormous glaive.
'Say that again, you worthless...'
'Worm!' the girl screamed, jumping to her legs.
'Is this how you address your god, you worthless animal?'
Her eyes glowed in the dark. The Gan's expression changed to horror.
'It... it cannot be...'
The girl smiled. Her pale skin was cracked here and there, showing signs of supernatural influence.
'I know what happened at the Second Battle of Hoth and I know what happened in Aachen. I know what happened during the Siege of Peluda and I know what's going to happen here. I was there. I am everywhere.'
She pushed her blond hair from her eyes.
'And I see a whole bunch of unbelievers, here to question my authority.'
The blind veteran turned his head towards the girl.
'Bless us, Mother, for we are unworthy!'
Callisto smiled again.
'Oh, I will.' she said, through a child's pale lips.
The entire tavern exploded in pure, white flame.

*







* First act of war of the Faustian Reich against the Dominion; First act of war of the Faustian Reich against the Uruks, also a Total Defeat for the Dominion; Jobst von Hamburg intervenes to save Fernan de Valiente; DominionTotal Defeatso a Total Defeat for the Dominion
**human mercenaries employed by the Dominion to counter enemy cavalry
*** Second Battle of Hoth, Taurus Vlad conquers the city; DominionDominionDominion Total Victory
**** Kaiser Pike Guard, elite unit of pikemen