Crimson Talon - An Uruk Dominion tale

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon



-The Alphas of the Uruk Dominion-



Alpha Slavos, the Founder
Alpha Cerberus, the Builder
Alpha Spartacus, the Immortal
Alpha Argus, the Mad
Alpha Kaga, the Beastly
Alpha Herkules, the Forgotten
Alpha Heinz, the Un-Uruk
Alpha Theseus, the Merciless
Alpha Seleukos, the Malevolent
Alpha Zolton, the One-Day Alpha
Alpha Argu, the One-Week Alpha
Alpha Attila, the Mad
Alpha Hector, the Unknown
Alpha Sten, the Deceiver




-The Hadessar-


Slavos Hades, the First Alpha
Cerberus Hades, his son, known as the Builder
Sulla Hades, brother of Cerberus, founder of the Dynastry
Spartacus Hades, son of Sulla, known as the Immortal, twice Alpha
Arcadius the Saint, son of Spartacus
Traianus the Noble Savage, married to Medusa, sister to Spartacus
Cerberus Fulk, adopted son of Traianus
Heididrudis Hades, daughter of Spartacus, married to Kaokan of the Sycorax
Atlas Cerberus, her son
Wilelda Hades, daugther of Heididrudis, married to Claudius Oddus
Their children, Eothese, Dragos and Demuth Hades
Argus Hades, the Mad, son of Spartacus, married Vespa of Avalon, the Alpha Widow
Gennadius Hades, son of Spartacus, poisoned by Cerberus Fulk
Xenos and Fulk Hades, twins, missing
Zoranna Hades, their mother, burned alive
Draganos Hades, her husband
Fay Hades, married Heinz Guderian, Faustian General
Sten Volchok, her son, the future Alpha
Sundak Hades, son of Gennadius, last of the Hadessa



-The Rest-


Geru of the Saint's Chosen
Ullon the Unworthy
Branwen O'Neill, Queen of Verstov
Kubadai Achilleus
Philipp of Austria
High Shaman
Frederick Mercurio Hendrix, Grand Inquisitor
The Oneshin Clan
Divinus, First Captain of the Guard
Primeiro Menendus, King of Hispanics
Eric Blake, Commodore, Lord of Storm, last of the Greystokes
Ulrich the Squid, a pirate
Toby the Trickster, a pirate
Vane the Mad, Mordred knight
Adaluin the Fair, Mordred knight
Skane the Scarred, Mordred knight
Gurian the Cold, Mordred knight
The Faceless, Mordred knight
Karl Gustav, the Faustian spy
Strabo, Dominion investigator
Severus, his human assistant
Octreomus, priest of Callisto
The Athawolf Twins
Toke One-Eye of Demos
Gotz the Uruk Gan
Callista





PROLOGUE



'Ha, so much for their Constant Empire!'
-Sulla Hades after the fall of Constantium

The city was quiet and the skies darkened by the nearby storm when we arrived. There was no news coming from the front so I thought I should pay my uncle a visit. After all, we did had much catching up to do.
The Council Chambers seemed deserted, hardly any slaves about. My uncle liked a tight household that wouldn't get in his way while he managed his affairs. The old warrior had a temper but I wasn't afraid of that, I knew he'd be glad to see me.
I found him by the fireplace, watching the flames and lost in thought.
'Uncle, I have returned.'
His face, always so severe, imprinted with the strictness of a Spartan lifestyle, lit up at once when he laid eyes on me.
'Callisto's mercy, boy! How you've grown!'
We locked arms and he offered me a place near the fire, as was custom.
'For a moment there, I thought I was seeing Tiberius in the flesh! You are the spitting image of him.'
I never knew my father. He died in a faraway land, before I was born. My uncle tells me he was a great warrior. Tiberius the Noble Savage they called him.
'How fares our valiant army?'
My uncle sniggered.
'Valiant? Bah! I tell you, boy, the Ten Companies, now those were brave soldiers! We will never see their like again!'
It was just like him to wax poetically on long, lost glories. A slave brought us wine. I gazed at my reflection in the cup. How much of my father still lives in me?
'I know the warriors of today do not outshine their deeds, but they fight long and hard, just as our ancestors once did. We control the steppe. New settlements fall to us each season.'
'Taking a settlement and renaming it does not make you a good general. It is what you do with it afterwards, that matters. Tell me, what use are conquests which cannot be held?'
To this, I had little to say. He has seen countless battles in his lifetime, I was sure of it, so a novice's opinion was the last thing he needed.
'We have learned new tactics.'
'New tactics? Ha!'
He let loose another sound of contempt.
'Using cavalry and archers is not our way of war. You know this as well as I. It wasn't our way during the time of the Ten Companies and it sure as Hades won't be now. Look at what that miscreant Theseus does in Uzg Kalus *! He simply sits there, on a bridge somewhere, with his rockets and waits for the enemy to come to him!'
I kept my silence as it was suitable during such times. Slowly, my uncle's wrath subsided.
'Come boy, I want to show you something.'
He took me to the cellar. There, amongst casks of wine and slabs of pork, adorning the curved ceiling were the heads of former enemies, taken on the battlefield as it was just.
'I know your trophies, uncle, I've seen them as a child.'
'Look down, youngling.'
Under our feet there was purple, the color of Imperial might. A big golden I adorned the rug, reigning in the middle of the room. The dust has settled,, in a thin layer but the incrustations were still visible. I recognized it for what it once was.
'You see this? An entire city burned for this thing.'
The words came out of my mouth as fast as the wind.
'The Banner of the First Legion. The flag under which the Romuli conquered the world!'
'Aye, the standard of their glorious legions. It rots here, in a wine cellar. That's how far glory goes.'
His face showed anger in a way I've never seen before or since.
'This rug is their national treasure. I took it with these two hands and now it follows me every way I go. My son died for it though.'
I knew of Votan's death during the siege. That was the first time my uncle mentioned it to me.
'My glory seeking days are over. The Alpha can kiss my arse. I have given him a son, I will not give him another one.'
Last I heard of my cousin Traianus he was heading up to sea. At least there were no sieges in his near future.
'Aye, these are strange times we're living in. We are being led by numbskulls and turncoats. Men who would sell their own swords to whomever pays the more. Upturned mercenaries, that's all they are, my boy!'
This was dangerous talk, I was aware of it. My uncle was known to be envious of the heir in the circles I frequented.
'An Alpha is an Alpha, uncle. Real leaders must be obeyed.'
That was all I had to say. All I could say, actually.
'Real leaders, you say? Seleukos, that mongrel was as Alpha as my piss!'
The fury was upon him once more.
'He stayed at home when my brother was killing humans on distant shores! The only way he got to be Alpha was because he was my brother... your uncle's second-in-command!'
My late uncle Spartacus was next in line for the throne when he was slain in battle shortly after landing in Ibelica. That was when we found out javelins could kill us.
'And who came next?! Do not dare mention that name in this house! The scum was a lieutenant of Seleukos just like Seleukos was a lieutenant to Spartacus! That's how he got the throne! The only good thing Alpha Herkules ever did was to die. And at the hands of the Romuli, nonetheless. He was so unfit to be Alpha that they didn't even gave him the short sword!'
Now I knew the rumors about my uncle were true. He really hated the heirs.
'And now?! What do we have now? A filthy human with the Rudis in his hand, sitting on the throne of Demos. Slavos must be turning in his grave!'
Just then, a Bodyguard came down the stairs, with an urgent message.
'Sire' he growled ' there are two Romuli armies approaching from the West.'
To this, my uncle grinned.
'Ah, these must be my good friends, Petros Varros and Marius Augustus. The remnants of a crumbling empire.'
I was eager for battle and he sensed it.
'Listen to me boy!'
My uncle grabbed my head with both his palms.
'You must leave before they get here.'
I felt enraged by this shameful display.
'Why, uncle? I can fight, you know I can!'
'I know, son, I know but you are far too important for us to waste. Don't you see? The family name must live on! In your veins runs the blood of Cerberus, don't ever forget that! No usurper may take that away from you. Unless you offer them your head. Now go, take to the woods. The Romuli won't follow you there. They take a liking to neatly paved roads and high bridges where they think themselves safe.'
A huge, dark-skinned Uruk Bodyguard was waiting outside to escort me. My uncle had one last thing to say.
'Time to deal with these dogs and help them die for their Emperor, who's one of us, if you didn't know.'
That sentence shattered my world.
'You're joking, uncle.'
'I wish I was, son. His name was Vaclav and he was stationed in a fort near the eastern border when he decided to run away with a Romuli princess. Imagine that: marrying into a dying dinasty! That's about as daft as they come! '
Even the Bodyguard was sniggering at this point. But my uncle wasn't finished.
'There's a bright side to that story. Actually, if you think about it, somewhere in that Imperial Palace there's an Uruk being served and treated like a god by all those Romuli, all the while he does his best to besmirch their imperial bloodline forever! Now there's something to drink about!'
And drink we did. We drank for Vaclav Caesar.


* Uzg Kalus- Land of Archers (in Tolkien's Black Speech)

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon



Chapter One


'If my father saw me like this, he'd be very upset.'
-Traianus Hades during the siege of Talaveira




News of our Alpha's sudden death caught me in my tent. Outside, the Uruks were celebrating but the humans were not. Understandable, considering the late Alpha hired them on his way here.They were all mercenaries inside an army where being human was considered an irreparable flaw and now, they were left without their patron.
Before croaking so unexpectedly and after marrying my aunt Fay, the late Alpha Heinz hired all the Free Companies available up in his native lands and marched them south. He left me with eight hundred pikemen and hallebardiers and a few dozen musketeers.
I knew then that if I didn't take the town by nightfall, we would be having a full scale rebellion on our hands. The humans were frail and mushy but they still made up the vast majority of my army.
Considering I had no money left to pay them, giving the order to assault the walls was by far the wisest choice I've made that day.
As I took my place within the Bodyguards and pushed the siege tower towards the walls, I couldn't help but think of just how damned silly this tradition was. It was said that the general must be the first on the walls during a siege. I wonder how many generals we lost that way.
Sure, it could set a great example to the troops if you made it through. But it always backfired, when you didn't. Already the enemy was unloading their gunpowder on us.
My Bodyguards were tough, veterans all, and they received the projectiles without complaint, but still, it felt really stupid.
Callisto was merciful and the tower caught fire.
'Back to the line, boys!' I ordered the guards.
'But sire, shouldn't we take ladders instead?' one of them insisted.
'No, let the humans bleed out instead.'
The Landsknecths were all too glad to be ordered forward. I knew that what I was doing was probably disgraceful in the eyes of honorable Uruks everywhere, but thankfully, there were just thirty of us in the entire army, so my shame could run so far.
We stood there watching the merry mercenaries climbing ladders and dying up the walls. Soon enough, the Landsknecths were climbing down, just as fast as they climbed up, if not faster. Some might say that was a bad omen.
I took it as a sign to send in more men.The gaps were plugged with new pikemen, advancing on the bodies of their fallen comrades. That would not be a problem for an Uruk, but it seemed to affect the humans greatly. By now, most of them were fleeing from the walls.
'Hm, this isn't going as planned.' I found myself thinking out loud.'Send in Flavius Atilius.'
'But sire, the law says...'
'I know what the law says, Ugluk. Still, he's an unproven Uruk commander. Let him win his spurs.'
I wondered what my father would say if he saw me like this, taking my sweet time under the enemy walls. Just then, our adversary made a bold move: their commander chose that moment to sally forth with his cavalry.
The incessant noise of their pistols got on my nerves.
'Send in the priests.'
It was then that the men of the Free Companies and the men cowering behind those blasted walls first witnessed the fires of hell. Huge fireballs engulfed the enemy commander and his troop.
We could smell their horses burning along with them.
All in all, it made for a pretty spectacle. The enemy commander burst into flames, the humans on our side cheered but the Uruks kept quiet, as the battle was far from over.
'Now, get to those gates!' I yelled.
The entire army went forward as one. We got beyond the gatehouse, ignoring the gunfire and the arrows from the towers, we surged on, through blood and smoke and dust.
Some men tried to stop us, some died, some fled. There was no time to linger, the main plaza was just up ahead. I was among the first to reach it, but the pirates were far from spent.
They fought like demons, slaying those poor Free Company wretches in their dozens. Normally, humans fight this way when they are cornered.
'To hell with this! Bring forth the priests again.'
The fire of Hades took them all. One by one, entire groups turned to ashes.
'Burn, you bastards, burn!' I yelled towards the fires.
Some Uruks fell to the flames as well. There was no time for any of them to seek cover.
After the arcane fire settled, I gave the troops permission to sack the town.
That night, Uruks and humans alike raped and pillaged side by side.
We named the place Taugan* after all those Greystokes that burned alive there.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Taugan= Frying Pan (in Black Speech)

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Two



'Make sure the humans kill each other and don't get in-between.'
-Sula Hades shortly after landing in Europa



By all accounts, Zub Kubla was a scrawny orc, smaller than the average Uruk. To make up for this, he developed a style of low cunning which made him shine in the agoge, among the other, stronger students.
This won him the attention of his teacher, a wise warrior descended from the Alpha himself. When his mentor set out on campaign, he took Kubla with him. It was on the field of battle that Kubla put his skills to the test. Where most of the Uruks fought for glory, he battled just to survive. Initially, this earned him only contempt, he was not considered an honorable warrior by his men but as time passed, the soldiers grew to appreciate the fact that their company was surviving while others were long gone. The campaign ended with the glorious fall of Constantium and with the Uruks' triumph over their ancestral enemy, the hated Romuli.
But his mentor was dissatisfied. Growing disillusioned by the current rulers way of handling affairs, his teacher left the continent, embarking on a quest that would see him triumph over distant lands, as far away from the corruption as possible.
Kubla followed for he had nowhere else to go.
Like his mentor he was growing old in the shade of olive trees. Dying of old age was the most dishonorable thing that could happen to an Uruk. Looking back, on board the crammed full galley, Kubla saw that he had lived a full life, gathered a vast amount of wealth, but sadly had not fought as much as tradition asked of any honest warrior. His soldiers haven't seen him fight a single battle since the campaign ended. Kubla started to doubt his fighting skills, after all, it had been decades since his agoge days were ended. Which meant he was weak, easy prey for a prepared enemy. He thought he would die sword in hand, that he could manage to pull. At least, in death, I won't be hearing their laughter anymore.
Upon arrival on the new continent, his master fell ill. To Kubla's surprise he was given command of the troops. Shortly afterwards, the conqueror of Constantium was asking for him on his death bed.
'The whore son Alpha is dead.' his master's voice was but a whisper. 'A new upstart takes his throne. It is not our place to question the gods but we sure as Hades can outrun our rulers.'
Kubla wasn't certain what to say next. The hour was at hand and he was witnessing his master dying the most dishonorable death imaginable. But he held his tongue, out of respect for the Uruk from whom he learned the names of the continents and how best to use your mind, instead of your sword.
'Remember this, Zub: the humans hate us. They will always hate us because we are different. Do not let them forget that we are strong too.'
With these words, Sula Hades died. Kubla was now sole ruler in a palace he never seen before, at the head of an army he never commanded alone until now.
His master thought they would find a land divided by civil war, rife for plunder. Sula gambled all on the hopes that their Avalon allies would rise against their neighbors as soon as the Uruks arrived.
Much to the contrary, they found that the locals, calling themselves Merovingian, have been living in peace for decades with their Avalonian counterparts.
In truth, the humans had no reason to ignite the flames of war other than uniting against a common foe, the single intruder on the continent were the Uruks themselves.
However, Zub was not worried. He made sure the 'standard of the First Legion' and Romulus' Sword reached Traianus, his master's son and heir. Afterwards, he set about his work.
The siege of Chateau de Meravangi had begun in earnest.
Sure, their Avalon allies were too far away to be of any help, but Zub was confident they could finish the job by themselves. His army was half Uruks, half men from the Free Companies of Ibellica.
Even some dreaded Mordred Knights joined their ranks. The Merovingians had all the reasons to fear him. But they did not.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Three



'Do not give him a clean death.'
-Seianus Argu after being presented with a rebel captive


I was there when the general first heard of the rebels. The unthinkable had happened: Uruks rebelled against Uruks. In what should've been a scouting, an entire class of Uruk Yar deserted after killing their teacher.
There were rumors around the camp that a Li Yar was responsible. But the general made it clear from the start, the youths had to be put to death.
'This is official Dominion business but you humans are welcomed to tag along.'
Ever since my childhood I've been taught to fear the great black beasts that my grandparents remember coming from far away lands to steal children from their cradles. I thought those were just wive-tales but since the Great Scouring, me and the rest of my people have learned that all rumors contain a seed of truth.
We disliked their company, their mongrel speech and their savage ways but we were Ronin and we fought for who payed us more.
And this is how Haro of Gangwa found himself in the company of the legendary Seianus Argu, as he undertook a punitive campaign against those who were kin to him.
'Remember, they have shamed us by their conduct and worse still , they have shamed our ancestors. Make them pay for this. And do not give them a warrior's death for they are not worthy of one!'
That was all the speech general Argu gave his troops before unleashing them upon the rebels. Being under Uruk rule for ten years, we all knew their Black Speech.
I commanded my men to join the fight but the general stopped me in my tracks.
He was as tall as me and I was sitting on my horse at the time.
'No, we won't be needing your help with this one. This stays between Uruks.'
'Yet you said they weren't true Uruks.'
'Yes, it is true.' he growled. 'Be thankful you do not participate.'
Later, when I saw the rockets flying down in the valley below, I understood what he meant. They barred our way so we wouldn't get burned alive.
Pretty soon, I could hear the screams of those caught in the rocket fire, unnatural sounds, bestial in nature. Even so, I couldn't help but feel pity for them.
Not a single Qin Ronin was allowed to interfere. We stood there, on the precipice, listening to the cries below. The Uruks were ordered down the mountain and soon, there was silence.
When general Seianus returned, slowly walking up the slope I could not resist the urge to ask him:
'Was it a Li Kan that started all of this?'
He looked at me with those small yellow eyes of his and gave a grimase that could roughly be described as a smile.
'Who led them does not matter now.'
We were forbidden to go below, but we saw the Uruks rounding up the charred bodies and stacking them up in huge holes.
'Never knew Uruks bury their dead.' Akira my adjutant said to me.
'They don't. They burn them. That is a mass-burial. In their eyes, it is a sign of deep disrespect. Those who died in this valley are worse than dogs, to all Uruks .'
Akira never said a word that day.
We were Samurai and we understood the code of honor these strange black beasts had.
We could relate to it more than enough.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Four



'I grow tired of killing Tahars. They're far too squishy.'
-Falcone Votan during the retaking of Ur Andamunda*


The man dying at his feet was scantly clad, in silky baggy trousers and a sleeveless shirt, despite the snow outside. Falcone Votan took the smoking gun from the dying man's hands and broke it in two, on his black knee. The castle garrison's was a meager force, just fools dressed in silk and carrying fire-sticks. These were Caliph's rifles, the Mancus informed him. The Amir's finest. Yet they made for such poor sport.
'We'd be better off chasing rabbits.' he told his Uruks, who laughed halfheartedly.
Although he was accustomed to letting others do the work for him, Votan understood the meaning of leadership and was among the first to climb the foe's walls. Only he did not expect he would find such disappointments within.
'Send in the Elephants. Let's finish this.'
The Tahars were running, by then. The Mancus cut them all down, so swiftly that Arrianus Zuzong was left with no glory. His Lieutenant, older than he was and reaching the age of Glorious Death, was bred in the former Lao Che Khanate's lands, thus the harsh climate and conditions left him well built, though short and stocky.
Yet what he lacked in stature, he more than gained for in presence, as he roared down to his men.
'Come on, you slugs! Put your backs into it!'
The garrison was about to break and that is when Votan spotted the Tahar Elephants, marching out the gates.
Their last line of defense.
'Now there's something to poke your scimitar in.' Votan growled, in awe of the large beasts.
He and his Bodyguards rushed down from the parapets, eager to slay the monsters in single combat, as was the Uruk way. Yet the beasts were driven mad with fear and in their long strides, they darted towards the snowy wilderness.
'Har, there goes tonight's dinner, boys!'
Votan's Uruks were not pleased, to say the least. It came to their own Elephants to chase and shoot down the craven beasts with cannons.
Afterwards, Votan was left in no mood to celebrate. Seldom had victory brought such disgrace.
'This was no battle. This was poor practice.'

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

* Ur Andamunda = Elephant's bridge
-there is no word in Black Speech for Elephant so I took it from Quenia

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Five



'Make haste, boys. We have to kill their Roy before his sons get here!'
-Zub Kubla to his Uruks at the gates of Chateau de Meravangi



'Sire, the Meravangi are here.'
Thus began the bloodiest day in Meravangian history, a battle that no chronicle ever recorded, out of shear shame due to the loss of battlefield prestige. Upon hearing that Roy Guy was left unprotected inside the Chateau, Zub Kubla brought his Uruks at the gates of the castle. A veteran of the Romuli campaign, Kubla felt that he had all the incentive he required to send his troops forward.
It was then that an Uruk warrior from the rearguard brought him news of enemy reinforcements approaching.
'If you sever the head, the entire snake dies.' he told his soldiers. 'Charge, my braves. We shall hold the gates. Make sure you bring me the King's head.'
No man in any army wants the honor of arriving too late when battle is joined, especially when the honor of his Kingdom lies at stake. Bureau de Montfort, the King's Right Hand arrived on the field, at the head of one thousand men, mostly spear infantry. With him was the First Councillor and Lord of Aquitanie, Bohemond de Tarante, accompanied by the Dauphin Guion, prince and heir to the throne and his younger brother Thierry de Meravangi, chief commander of the infantry and Master of the Foot.
All the flower of the Meravangian nobility was present: Gilbert and Dimanche de Meravangi distant cousins of the King, Conrad de Royce, Foucher de Meravangi the High-Marshall, to name a few.
The men were tired from the long night-march but the nobles pressed them on, seeing that the castle's gates were left wide open as if to invite them to supper. It meant their King was waiting.
The princes had no idea, but while they were displaying their banners and marching their fancy soldiers at a slow pace, their father was being slaughtered by heathen invaders.
Under the orders of Kubla, the musketeers waited until the cavalry was in range for what seemed like ages. They were told to wait until they see the whites of the knights' eyes. The first to fall was Dauphin Guion, felled by the first volleys. He died screaming trying to keep his guts inside his belly.
His sixteen year old brother, Gilbert, was next, slain by horned monsters who flew down from the parapets. At this point, Bohemond, the First Councillor bellowed:
'We are betrayed! Onward, to glory!'
But they found only slaughter. Large Uruks were waiting inside the gatehouse. The cramped horses panicked, trying to escape the blackened scimitars. The knights had nowhere to go. They were downed in droves, by the huge heathens with fires in their eyes. Bestial snarls and wild howls filled the air as more and more bodies fell into a gigantic mound, eclipsing the castle gate.
Thierry de Meravangi fell there, downed by Uruks, in front of the Chateau, his muffled cries heard by no one as he suffocated under the weight of his horse. He was five and twenty at the time of his death. The Lord High Marshall Foucher de Meravangi as well, was killed by Uruks under the castle walls. The King's Right Hand, Bureau de Montfort was downed by crossbowmen as he was trying to rally his men.
At this point, the last remnants of the Royal Guard gathered for a final, suicidal charge. In their despair, they took out the one Uruk that mattered in the entire lot.
Zub Kubla died shouting his anger at the armored horses, spitting his spiteful curses at his armored foes. No Uruk ever regretted seeing their leader being killed in battle, a rightful death for a celebrated warrior.
The roars of victory filled the night sky, together with the moans of dying men.
A thousand four hundred and ninety five Meravangi died and a thousand five hundred seventy six were taken prisoner, only to be executed afterwards, as sacrifices upon the bodies of the fallen.
They named the place Zub Kubla, after their general.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Six



'The world is filled with princes and kings and none more petty than my relatives.'
-Arcadius the Saint



All around him, the battle raged on. He could spot friends fighting, through the blood soaked flocks of his black hair.
Good, as long as they still stand, there is still hope.
His self-reassuring thought died in the roar of gunfire as an entire row of muskets unloaded on the line. Close, too close for comfort. He had no idea where the shooters were, all he could see was the brown dust of the plain, eclipsing the sun and from time to time, a shadow would move through the haze, a screaming enemy would rip through the fog so he could give him his axe sword, already laden with human bits and pieces.
Those Greystoke devils were not giving way, no matter how many of them you killed. He was getting a bit angry, being stuck there on a mound of fallen enemies, without being able to see or move forward, without knowing whether they were winning or losing. He was skidding through the guts of fallen foes when he heard the muskets again.
This time, the bullets got to him, he felt the impacts of thousand tiny lead pellets hitting his thick Uruk skin. They were shredding him apart and for one moment, he thought he could hear a monster roaring but instead of a legendary beast's swan song, it was actually his own death cry.

Arcadius woke from his slumber, sweaty and shivering. His sheets were on the floor and the room was ravaged, as it always happened when he fell prey to the visions. The men in the camp have taken to call him: the Saint because of his prophetic nightmares. The Tortured Mad Uruk would've suited him better, Arcadius thought. After all, they weren't just dreams, they were sensory experiences projecting him straight into the flesh of his ancestors.
He felt the javelins hitting and piercing his own body when it was in fact the flesh of Alpha Yar Spartacus, killed by barbarians. He died countless deaths, on beaches and in remote mountain passes, he saw with his own eyes how Uruks could die and he, of all the rest knew first hand when and where Uruks could be vulnerable.
So it fell to him to avoid such terrible outcome for his warriors. It fell to him the responsibility of changing the future ever learning from the past.
The weight of thousands of ancestors and their deaths was slowly driving him mad. He sought more and more the company of his own presence, inside his battle-tent no one was allowed during his seizures and in time, he managed to prolong the embargo to the rest of the day. This only made him seem more holy to the men, who at first were mocking his unusual refusal of camp life pleasures: he took no bed-slave, no loot after a battle, no human females were forced to sire his offspring.
It was said he felt depressed by the fact that upstarts and mercenary captains could keep the Rudis for so long and that his family has fallen into disgrace from inactivity. But Arcadius cared less for politics, and even less for hegemony of the family. The dinasty could wait.
He had other plans.
Town after town, he took Ibellica by storm and left a burning path through her cities.
Avenge the ancestors! he would shout to his men.
That was the only principle that mattered. Vengeance for Spartacus, for Orda, for all the fallen.
Let them fear us for they will never become us!
Alone in his tent, secluded from everything else, he even became a mystery to his own troops. It was said that the mercenaries would mutiny if it wasn't for the fear that they didn't actually know what their employer even looked like.
He could be anywhere, they were saying, and nobody would even notice. His enemies were calling him the scourge of God or better still, the Ghost.
He was becoming a distant memory in his own camp. From time to time, he would receive Geru, his trusted lieutenant, to his tent, for the latest news.
Today, just like any other predetermined occasion, this single Uruk was given permission to be in his commander's presence and to regale him with tales of the outside world.
If it wasn't for Geru, Arcadius would never know of what took place elsewhere.
'Alpha Yar Slavos died of old age in Vor Dorzog*. ' Geru began his report.
'Good, he was older than the Alpha anyway. Continue!'
'The daughter of late Alpha Argus, son of Alpha Heinz and Fay Hades, Agnes the Snob married Hades Genduk and gave him a son: Theseus Genduk.'
In real life, just like in his dreams, Arcadius was growing impatient.
'Yes, yes, get to the important part!' he shouted with his eyes still closed.
Geru adjusted his position on the pillow, but kept his head lowered, in true Uruk fashion when dealing with a superior.
'Traianus Hades has landed on Europa. We heard he is trying to take the ancient fortress of Avalon.'
To this, Arcadius felt the words coming out of his mouth.
'Not long ago, it is said, there were two cousins who made a deal for the sake of their fathers peace of mind. They exchanged places, in such a way, that the elders would not suspect a thing. To the men inside his camp, one of them was Traianus, son of Sulla. In his heart, he was actually Arcadius.'
Geru was by now, listening attentively.
'Arcadius the Conqueror, they began to call him after he captured a few cities. It had a fine ring to it. Sitting there, in his tent, next to the still lingering sparks from the dying coals, Arcadius would often think about his cousin. There was only just the two of them just like it is only just of the two of us now.
Traianus was a world away but he sometimes felt that they were closer than ever, especially now that they shared and kept a secret from the entire world. '
'And is it true?' Geru asked. 'Are you really your own cousin?'
Arcadius opened his golden eyes and smiled.
'No, I am not. But it makes for a fine story anyway.'


__________
* North Surrenders in Black Speech

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Seven



'These are the Immortals? Funny, they die just like any other men.'
-Arrianus Zuzong prior to his death on the walls of Jakuta


Excerpts from the Uruk Chronicles

Arriana Shatargatbor (Snowstorm)that was the new name that the ancient Tahar town of Jakuta received after being conquered by the Uruks. All across the world, cities were falling to the great, black beasts.
Ceberus Falcone took Colchis and renamed it Trov Vajodhar (Thieves Country) after all the Helot slaves he found there. After showing mercy to the inhabitans, he would become known as Cerberus the Noble Savage.
Whilst most would expect an Uruk to not be any more than a beast of war, this general had proven to all of Thera that Uruks were not just bloodthirsty monsters and that they too were capable of compassion and a sense of honor. His actions on and off the field of battle had proven him to be a truly noble savage.
Arcadius the Saint took Tierra Madera and renamed it Medusa, after his own mother, who was the daughter of the legendary Alpha Cerberus. Seianus Argu lands in Mesocala and conquers Cabracan, his men promptly rename the settlement Argu.
Dakar becomes Goth Hisht (Lord's Ash) named after the Tahar Caliph who was burned alive in the battle. Zaca Pec becomes Uzg Gorurz- Gortag ( Land of Tough Madmen) named so after the insane resistance the Paynals offered Alpha Theseus the Merciless. Anansi becomes Kala Argo (Castle Argo) named after a famous Uruk general which fell in battle.
Padmea becomes Gurz Ujak (Death Wolf) after Claudius Lopo, a general in the Romuli campaign.
Hunahu falls and is renamed Gurz Rrug (Path of Death) because the priests of Callisto burned three hundred enemy warriors on the streets of the city.
Andelusi becomes Natgash (literally Firenight).
Abraxas falls and is named Nat Sulmog (Night Raid).
Casa de Bestias becomes Casa de Ugron after Ugron Zull fell here.
Sithra becomes Gajim Thumat (Smoky Trail) after all the people who were burned in the battle.
Saraz was renamed Rufan Shurr (Sand Storm).
Aquitanie becomes Lutaum Bor (Snow Battle).

Looking at these names, we can deduce that the circumstances in which a settlement was captured matter more to the Uruks themselves then their human counterparts who invariably name cities after local legends or famous people (their commanders or their family members).

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Eight



'Those things, those hellish creatures out there... are our allies.'
-Philipp von Austria on Uruks



The island was not particularly rich nor significant. Its sole importance lay in its proximity to Slavia, the kingdom where christians were ruled by pagan aristocracy. That is precisely why the Teutonic Order was there, on Verstov, to restore honest, Catholic rule upon the deviants.
The march up from the beaches into the mainland and up towards the capital and single city of Verstov was fairly uneventful. But in that cold winter morning, the red and blue line of the Slavic troops was visible, guarding the edge of the forest, last bastion of defense before the city itself.
'They mean to do battle, that much is evident.' Kurt von Freiburg observed from on top of his armored, white-cloaked horse.
'Should we not give them satisfaction?'
His lord and master answered with only one word.
'Wait.'
The Knight felt puzzled by his commander-in-chief apparent indecisiveness.
Letting the enemy show himself in the open and not trample him down in a cavalry charge was not the Teutonic way.
'But mein Lord, the Draculi are right there, just waiting for us to...'
'Look at the trees.'
Philipp von Austria allowed himself a smile under his helm as his adjutant finally saw them.
'Mein Gott! What... are those things?!'
From the darkness of the forest they emerged, like ancient spirits straight from the depths of hell. Burly beast men threw themselves with reckless abandon upon the unsuspecting Draculi troops. They were letting out savage roars as they were plowing through Vallachian infantry with ease.
'Heh' chuckled the Teuton Commander. 'Look at that, not even their Blood Knights can hold them!'
It was true. To his horror, Kurt saw with his own eyes how the dreaded Draculi knights were committing suicide with their own broadswords than risk capture.
'Those things, those hellish things out there... are our allies.' he heard his commander say. 'And you would do well to fear them, for they are magnificent !'
As the tide breaks against the stony shore, so to the ragged, mangled ranks of the Dracule army broke apart, soldiers routing each way they could. Some Slavic peasants, maddened by fear, even ran past the Baron's Knights, scarcely paying them a second gaze. Soon enough, a large beast of war appeared, his dusky skin glistening with sweat and blood, hot on their trail.
It paused and snorted towards the horses, noticing the Teutonic white banners.
Its shrunken yellow eyes reminded Kurt of a wolf's, the same lack of kindness and vivid savagery alive in them.When it spoke, its voice was that of a bear.




Strange enough, Kurt heard his commander answering the creature, in the same rough language.
The monster went on its way, eyes glowing, keen on hunting human flesh.
'Well, shall we join the ball?' Philipp von Austria inquired.
But Kurt was by now, far too shocked to let the matter rest.
'Mein Lord, what did you say to the vile creature?'
Again, Philipp of Austria grinned. His adjutant, in his lack of knowledge of things worked in this world, was becoming almost endearing.
'I told him that we'll leave them the pleasure of head-hunting, seeing how they did most of the killing for us.'
In lack of better words, Kurt chose silence. Honest Teutons watching Christians being slaughtered like sheep by heathen beasts... Just when he thought he'd seen them all!
On the field of battle, fraternisation was well underway. It was the half-brothers with their long halberds and white cloaks that interested the savages, so different from them in their grim, pitch-black,rusty armor. Shoulder to shoulder, monster and Teuton were comparing gears, exchanging glances and words, few understood but the blood on the axe-swords of the giants spoke instead.
'Of course,the isle itself bears little strategic value' Philipp von Austria told his adjutant. 'But the fact remains that it is closer to Slavia than it is to us. And if the Grand Duke wants it, so be it. Let Slavic blood be shed for our interest.'
'But sire, these monsters...'
'The Uruks are no threat. For now. They crave battle as drunks crave wine. Once they're satiated, they become rather harmless. Alas, I am told that their commander is far too old. So, this...' he gestured to the battlefield 'is his way of offering a banquet to his troops before he expires.'
At this moment in time, Kurt wasn't sure what to say.
'An Uruk lives half the life of a man. Give him no battles and he lives less than that. Do not be troubled, young knight. Time is on our side. You shall have your holy war.'
After the fall of Verstov, the Uruks sacked the city. However, the Teutons did not joined in. They preferred the safety of their camps along the beaches. Days after the sacking, the Uruk commander, who went by the name of Slavos and heir to the throne of Demos, died in his bed.

Soon after, Kurt von Freiburg had his war.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Nine



'If a siege lasts too long, the warhounds begin to bite their masters.'
-Alpha Thesseus the Merciless

Rain trickled down on Faustus Draganos' clean shaven head as he stood there, waiting for the enemy.
It was just days ago that he received reports of the rebels sallying forth, from the beleaguered city.
'Good' he said at the time, addressing his scouts 'Brannicus comes out of hiding. Finally! Kujuk will enjoy the upcoming slaughter!'
Faustus could still remember his adjutant's horrified face as he uttered those terrible words.
'Sire... Kujuk... Kujuk has sided with the rebels. His army fights alongside Brannicus now.'
This did not come as a huge shock to the Uruk commander. A veteran of the Romuli campaign, he grew accustomed to generals fleeing to the other side. However, this particular desertion was inconvenient.
Kujuk Nero craved blood, it was known among the ranks. And his betrayal meant the loss of eight hundred able bodied men, straight in the middle of a difficult siege.
Faustus now found himself trapped between the town's garrison and the bolstering ranks of deserters. He knew his former ally all to well to hope he would not engage as soon as possible. Thus, Faustus had no choice but to sound the retreat.
His army was mostly made up of humans, good Demos and Gladiatorial pit stock, he had a few trusty Uruks left by his side, but they weren't enough to turn the tide. In a full on encounter, they would be overwhelmed by shear numbers. So he had to withdraw, leaving the field to Brannicus, the last Romuli general in Hesperos.
The siege of Sparta was over.
Still, that did not pleased his former ally. As Faustus hoped, Kujuk Nero gave chase. The old Berserker was no fool: he timed his betrayal at the high point of the siege, when men on both sides were tired. It wasn't a rare thing to see an Uruk general betray his own kind, for the last Romuli Emperor was said to be an Uruk as well, but it was unexpected that an Uruk general would break off the siege and hunt his own men.
It was bound to happen, Faustus thought. Sooner or later, the Gladiator in Kujuk would scream for fame and spoils of war. It just happened to come at the worse time ever.
He took advantage of the troops growing discontent, promising them riches and lands to plunder. He was right in a way, Faustus knew this. If Kujuk managed to take control of Sparta, he could isolate the whole of Hesperos from the rest of the Uruk empire. That was something that the Dominion understandably did not want to see come to fruition.
On the contrary, this was the reason why they sent Faustus to Sparta in the first place.
'Keep an eye on him' the Alpha said to him, before departure. 'If a siege lasts too long, the warhounds begin to bite their masters.'
The Demos Hoplites under Faustus burned for some action, their battle lust exceedingly larger than that of the Uruks' themselves.
The time of reckoning is upon us, Faustus realized. It was there, on the weed infested ground of the Spartan plain that they would make their stand. He chose the higher ground, an elevation covered in ferns and bushes. In the shadow of olive trees, we shall win or die.
They did not have to wait long for the enemy. Kujuk Nero made his appearance, at the head of his troops, riding on top of a tall, black stallion.


Kujuk Nero

A gift from Brannicus, no doubt.
'Outrageous display!' Faustus heard his adjutant's indignant voice.
'It makes for a fine show if anything else.' he answered. 'Get ready, he will come fast and hit us hard. The first rank must be warned.'
That is the Berserker way. Hit them first and bleed them out.
The rebels were heard, cheering their leader from the depths of the forest. Faustus felt uneasy hearing just how loved his former brother-in-arms was by his troops. This means they will fight ten times as hard to see him triumph.
He did not shared his thoughts with his adjutant, the less they knew of his fears, the better.
'Never thought I would live to see such a sight.'
'An Uruk on horseback, a rare sight indeed.' observed Achilles, a Demos Hoplite officer, commander of the infantry, all humans answered to him. The Uruks answered to Faustus Draganos directly.
He told them that the left flank, being the most exposed, was theirs.
'If this side gives way, the entire army is doomed.'
They knew what waited for them. On the other side, Kujuk had two times the number of Uruks, three times more cavalry and ten times more humans, made up of Spartan Hoplites and freed slaves. There were some frictions between the Spartans and the Helots, but Faustus knew they would all keep fighting to the last.
An Uruk on horseback. Uruks were famed across Thera for their disdain for horses, especially since they often lost their heads in enemy cavalry charges. This was why they hated cavalry so much and deemed every enemy on horseback a coward and a whore son.
If the humans in his army openly cheered in a mocking manner this bizarre apparition, Faustus felt trusted Uruks seething with anger.
'Do not be troubled, my brothers!' he addressed them. 'The first one to bring me his head shall dine with me tonight. The ones who run, shall dine with the gods!'
General laughter in the ranks covered the cheering on the other side.
Good, let them hear. Let them hear how we laugh in the face of death. The enemy must not know our fear, or all else is lost.
Faustus Draganos made his peace with his ancestors and the Goddess, hoping that Callisto will hear the unworthy call of yet another believer. There were thousands praying on the field,that day.
It was becoming obvious to the Uruk commander that he will die in the upcoming battle.




Faustus Draganos

There are more of them than I thought, they outnumber us ten to one Faustus told himself.
'Here, my warriors! Here we will make our stand!'
His words were drowned by the yelling of the rebels as they went up the slope.
'Do not falter! Do not run, or you shame us all! Even if you find yourself encircled, take pride in the fact that you fight alongside brothers! We are all in this together and we shall share the same fate, if we win or die!'
Those were all the words he had left. Not a truly rousing speech but the circumstances were as they were.
However, it was enough for his troops, that was everything they needed to hear. Phalangists hit their long spears together, Hoplites struck their shields with their short swords, Uruks roared their hatred towards the sky.
'Let them come' Faustus said to Achilles.'We are ready.'
And come, they did, in huge numbers. A neverending tide of flesh and steel, biting deep into their ranks, on each side, testing and probing for weakness. The line held.
In no time, the left flank was engulfed by the waves of enemy troops, the Uruks found themselves surrounded, as expected. The warriors fought on, despite all odds. Faustus was not worried.
They will hold that side, or die trying.
It was the front of the line that mattered, the center made of weakling humans. That was were Draganos stood, with his Bodyguards for he knew that would be the focal point of the enemy attack. And he was not wrong.



In no time he found himself into the thick of battle. His orders were lost to the noise of men killing each other.
Faustus struck a screaming enemy down, then another took his place and shared the same fate, then another one, then another. To his right, he could see the Hesperos Phalangs standing against the tide and to his left, the Demos Hoplites were fighting with rekindled zeal. It meant that the line was holding.
From the extreme left, there were less and less loyalist Uruks roaring which meant only one thing: they were dying.
Fighting and dying to the last, the Uruk way. Faustus had no time to morn, everywhere he looked there were enemies throwing themselves at his blade. The Furor Urukus was upon him and already his senses were clogged by the blood-lust. He couldn't stop killing even if he tried to.
It does not matter how we live, only how we die - his master once told him in the Agoge. Now his master was dead and so was his Alpha, the leader he grew up admiring, most of his friends were dead as well, killed on the battlefield. All that mattered now was killing.
Achilles was there, by his side, slaying the foes in their dozens. The hatred that the Demos Hoplites bore their Spartan counterparts was not born out of envy or malice. It wasn't because the Spartans were famous all throughout Hesperos for their resilience and their valor. It was simply because they were arrogant.
But there were too much to handle. Trained since childhood to the utmost perfection of military standards, the Spartans were gaining ground, pushing the Demos Hoplites back. They will break, eventually. And we will all join Kujuk's head collection.
The Hesperos Phalangs was becoming thinned out in such a way, that the rebels could walk freely through its ranks, hitting the back and sides of the loyalists, at will. The line was barely worth calling a line of defense anymore. More and more bodies were piled up on top of each other at the defenders feet, making movement very hard. You couldn't see what was happening behind you, but you prayed that it wasn't the enemy approaching.

Then, a horn was heard.

Faustus Draganos was drenched in gore from head to toe, dead Helots surrounding him. He spat blood, trying to catch his breath. He was left with but a few of his trusty Bodyguards. Such was the prize of fighting in the center. The horn kept wailing and eventually, the battle grounded to a halt. Men stopped hitting the shields of their opponents, foe and friend alike stood and waited for a sign.
The skies did not open and Callisto herself did not float down to aide the exhausted mortals with answers to the unceasing questions regarding their destiny. Instead, their fates were decided by a simple, palpable fact.
'Kujuk is fallen! Kujuk is dead!'
The cry went through the lines, like the warm breeze of summer through a crop field. The Helots still standing around Faustus turned and fled, their faces pale with fear. He could not believe his eyes.
'After them!' he roared, with his last remaining strength. 'Do not let a single one escape!'
One alone could bring hundreds more on top of us. The day is not won yet.
But there were few left to follow the routing enemy. Those that did, did so with the conviction that if the fleeing rebels realized just how weak they were, victory would change sides just as quickly as it came.
Among the bodies, a limping, barely breathing Faustus found his long lost brother-in-arms, under the slaughtered body of his horse. Despite having twelve axe-swords imbedded into his torso, Kujuk Nero still lived.
Faustus kneeled beside his comrade.
'You finally see me bend the knee. I bet this isn't how you pictured it.'
Kujuk's voice was but a whispered growl.
'Did you me on my horse? Heh... I showed them all.'
Faustus smiled then he quietly rose up, grabbed one of the axe-swords handle and lend it his entire upper body weight. The blade sank into Kujuk's chest. His neck made a gargling sound.
'Yes, it made for a fine show.' said Faustus to the corpse of his former friend.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Ten




'Even giants can die.'
-Alpha Thesseus the Merciless watching Mesocala at the horizon



The beach was filled with smouldering, dead elephants. Bloated corpses of fallen enemies were washed ashore by the warm sea.
From his vantage point on top of an Elephant Rocketeer, Alpha Thesseus, leader of all Uruks, took in this glorious sight.
'At last we have our revenge on the Liu Dai' he heard Kubadai declare to his right. 'The Lao Che are defeated.'
The Liu Dai were the last remnants of the Lao Che, proud individuals, loyal to the former Khan. These broken fragments of an once mighty empire were pushed back to the sea, all the way to the northern tip of the peninsula, where one could see the other continent.
That is where they decided to make their last stand against the Merciless One.
'No' Thesseus told his adjutant 'they are not defeated, they are history.'
It was true, to some extent. After the pacification of the Sumari Steppe, where the Uruks first made contact with horse-archers, the rapid colonization of the Huang province left few settlements with their native names and local temples unscathed. Temujin Kubadai, a native of Huang Chuan, knew those mountain passes well and this knowledge proved critical in those months of heavy fighting against the mountain tribes.
He was hated by the locals, who considered him an abomination and a traitor to his own people.
Born from a former wife of a Lao Che warchief, Temujin was well versed in their customs and practices, he even rode horses sometimes. That's why the troops called him Kubadai the Crooked Legged. He also hated the steppe people with a vengeance.
'Now...' Thesseus' yellowish painted brown face turned to the distant lands visible on the horizon, his heavy brow almost pointing towards the misty continent. '... time to look elsewhere for conquest.'
Temujin understood what those words meant. It had to do with his master's fiery temperament and thirst for battle. He also heard tales of that faraway place, ancient realm filled with murderous folk, the old legends said.
'Mesocala' he voiced its name to his leader. 'They say it is a land of giants.'
The Alpha was not impressed.
'Even giants can die.'
His war-painted face showed grim determination.
'Ready the galleys. Rivers of blood must flow.'

When the moon was high above, they crossed the narrow sea. The Goddess was with them and the sea was calm. The first Uruk to set foot on the new continent was Thesseus himself. In the cover of darkness, they set up a camp.
'Where are your giants?' the Alpha asked Kubadai.
Temujin did not offer a reply, but kept his gaze lowered. Raised by shepherds, then sent to the gladiatorial pit only to rise lightning fast to the rank of general, the Huang-Chuan Uruk loved the luxury of his status. He was fully aware that any wrong word could sent him back to the pits, or worse. He also knew how dependent he was of his master.
'Sire, allow me to take a scouting party. I shall bring you their heads!'
It all depended on how pleased his master was with his performance in battle.
'No need' the Alpha smiled. 'Here they are.'
It was true. Half naked, feathered warriors lined the horizon, from one end to the other, the plain was filled with them. Kubadai felt his heart shrink. In each direction he looked, Temujin saw enemies.
'They surround us.' his master seemed pleased of the outcome. 'Good, this means more for us to maim and slaughter.'
Kubadai was not convinced. Among the savages, he saw towering huge men, tall as trees, two times bigger than the largest Uruk. And they were carrying heavy, obsidian clubs.
'Sire, I think we should withdraw to a more suitable location to...'
His master's fist ended his sentence in mid air.
'Fool! You wish to have my name thrown in the mud forever?!! What would they say when they hear that after landing in Mesocala, the great Thesseus the Merciless fled with his tail between his legs, after first setting eyes on the barbarians? No, we attack! We attack now!'
The general order was given. Uruks started marching, side by side, in orderly Romuli fashion, towards their savage foes.
For the first time in his pampered life, Kubadai the Crooked Legged was scared. These were not typical horse archers that you could herd into a bottle-neck on a bridge somewhere and rocketeer them to death.
The armies clashed, under the pale morning sun.
Although mere men, the barbarians were not giving way, like all weak humans should. They seemed to relish the fight. Thesseus was in the first line, roaring orders. Blood and sweat filling his eyes, Kubadai saw his master surrounded by giants. He tried to get to him, but the press of bodies was too strong. They were hitting him from all sides, with their short, black clubs.
One giant man hit the Uruk commander on the back of his head, the blow dazed but did not fell him. The other ones did. Watching his master sway under the strikes felt like an eternity to Kubadai. He did not see his master's head leave his shoulders however, he turned and yelled out to the others:
'The Alpha is dead! Retreat!'
His Bodyguards kept fighting, falling one by one. Kubadai did not want to be the first to run, so he stood his ground, despite all odds. Everywhere on the field there were brightly colored warriors, thirsty for Uruk blood. Each man-beast falling to their clubs was sacrificed on the spot. Kubadai saw ancient jackal masked priests chanting and holding blacken, Uruk hearts to the skies.
Temujin witnessed many atrocities during his campaign years in the mountains of Huang, but what he saw on that plain changed him forever. What was happening all around him, on that battlefield, was far, far worse.
For the first time, he saw Uruks fleeing battle.
Kubadai turned and ran. His act will never be forgiven, that much he was sure of. So he chose to lose himself in the surrounding fields, with the other deserters, instead of returning to the camp. From that day on, he would be known among the troops as Kubadai the Craven.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Eleven




'Does dying hurt?'
-Ayyub Tahar last of the Caliphs, moments before his death


The wax candle was dying, lending its final flicker of hope to the boy's youthful visage. His mentor closed the golden striped covers of the heavy book of ancient teachings and calmly asked him, with his soothing voice.
'Now, what have we learned?'
The youth looked up, his gaze living testament to his uncertainty.
'That Alla is merciful?'
His teacher's smile assured him of gentler times to come. The wise man rubbed his short, thick, black beard with olive colored fingers before giving him a reply.
'Indeed he is, but he does not forgive all. Do you know who is not worthy of Alla's forgiveness?'
To this, the boy frowned. He was struggling to find the right answer.
'Those who forsake His trust?'
'Hm, the unbelievers, you say. But even they are welcomed into His kingdom, should they decide to change their wicked ways and follow the Golden Path. But who is worse than an unbeliever?'
The youngster looked into his mentor's eyes, knowing he would spot the truth there.
'Those who... forsake their duty?'
With these words, his teacher's gaze turned to the suit of armor hanging on the wall.
'Indeed. And now... that time has come.'
The prince licked his lips, suddenly wishing for a glass of clear, fresh well-water. But all the fountains in the city are gone.
'You see?' he heard his teacher's soothing voice. 'That cuirass, that helmet and that sword, you know what they all have in common?'
At that moment in time, Ayyub Tahar, last of the Caliphs, was donning the clothes of his forefathers.
'Yes. They belonged to men of honor who did not forsake their people in times of need.'
His gaze slid through the window, following the traces of a looming disaster. Outside, the Uruks were scaling the walls. It would not be long until the city defenders would find themselves overrun. It was his duty to lead by example, to give them something to cling on, a glimmer of hope in a forsaken world. But he felt tired and hungry and alone.
The child in him knew that despite all the fancy words and exquisite dressings, he was still just a child. But the prince in him...the prince realized that to show weakness meant to lose all faith. So he clinged to that single solitary idea. Perhaps the dinasty will not end this way.
They carried him through the streets of the beleagured city, a living symbol of their dying hope. He could feel their eyes upon him, everyone, from beggar to nobleman, was clinging to that singular thought. As long as he lives, we live.
They brought his royal Elephant, the beast half starved and anxious to be free from its cage. I know how you feel, thought Ayyub as he was mounting the backs of loyal guardsmen to reach the top of his mount. I too am trapped in a role too big for my shoes.
But we mustn't speak these words out loud, or everyone will panic.
That much was true. The crowd cheered as the Royal Elephants dragged their large feet towards the Main Gate. They think the battle is won, just because in ancient times, an elephant meant victory. But to an Uruk, an elephant meant nothing. Ayyub heard the stories of them slaughtering the animal with their bare hands.
As the procession approached the outer walls, the Tahar prince could spot the black shapes of the attackers, carving their way through the loyal militiamen. Monsters, that's what they are. These are old monsters of legend, here to give way to the end of times.
'Does it hurt?' Ayyub heard himself asking to Ubaid.
His elephant driver was a simple man, a veteran of many campaigns. He could knew he could trust him with an honest answer.
'What does, your Radiance?'
The prince watched as the beastial warriors were slaughtering his men on the defence walls.
'Dying.'
The word hung heavy , like a mouthful of water brought to a man dying of thirst in the desert. He could not get his eyes off the monsters, their skin shinning with sweat, their small eyes glowing with hate. Is this how I die?
His servant felt his prince's dark mood and his answer swam safely inside the middle ground of pleasantries.
'I do not know, your Radiance. In my lifetime, I've experience blade and gunpowder wounds of all sorts, except for death. However I am pretty convinced that you will die of old age.'
Ayyub Tahar smiled a shy smile on a face too young to shave. He could hear the battle raging as the elephants came closer to its epicenter. The questions he had melted in a sea of awe, when he saw his guards defending the city streets, meter by bloody meter.
'They must get no further!' 'Here comes the prince!' 'Rally to him, men!'
That's right, rally to me, I'm the winning piece of the chess game. Ayyub did not want his bitterness to show, so he waved to them from on top of his elephant. The large beast was having trouble advancing through the press of people.
'These are your trusty soldiers, Caliph.'Ubaid declaimed. 'They are dying for you.'
I did not asked them to do that, Ayyub thought. They should be at home, protecting their wives, or better still, out in the open wasteland, living as their ancestors did, free of the restraints that a city can bring. But he could not tell them that.
There was still heavy fighting going on all throughout the city when the Royal Bodyguards reached the main plaza. Here is where we make our final stand.
It was all so predictable really.
'Why does it matter anymore where we die, Ubaid? It is just the same thing. A rich man dies the same as a poor man. Nothing changes.'
'We all perish, Caliph. It matters not how we live, but how we die.'
'I thought it was the other way around.'
And then, Ayyub Tahar could hear gunshots coming from the walls.
'They brought in the arquebusiers.' Ubaid observed.
And here I am, helpless. They will shoot me down like dog, on top of my big mount.
'I want to come down, Ubaid.'
His servant's eyes narrowed in disbelief.
'Why?' he asked his prince. ' Caliphs should remain on their Elephants in battle, so it is written!'
I do not care about written laws, I do not want to die like this! Ayyub almost screamed. He was having difficulty maintaining his cool, his choleric temperament burning for a fight.
'I won't die on top of my fat elephant. Fatima is old and almost blind. Let me down, Ubaid. I command it!'
His driver turned to oblige his wish and in that point in time, Ayyub saw the first flames engulfing the other elephant in front of him. Ubaid yelled out:
'Magic fire, your Majesty! Get to safety!'
It was too late, in an instant, a blink of an eye, the white flame engulfed Ayyub and his elephant. The dark robed priests of Callisto were sending wave after wave of murderous fire into the ranks of the enemy.
Strangely, all that Ayyub could hear before expiring was the growls of Uruk warriors.
They are cheering my death.

***


Down in the city plaza, Arcadius the Saint stood grim and unmoved by the spectacle.
'That is how you win a city. By fire and gunshot, not by Bodyguard sacrifices.' he told Retiarius Tiberius, a scrawny Uruk, who he was his second-in-command. The youngling still clung to the old ways and needed some learning.
The Uruks were roaring, scimitars raised towards the clear blue sky.
'Another victory for the Dominion.' Retiarius licked his thin lips.
'No' Arcadius intervened ' it is the death of an Empire.'
His eyes were fixed upon the smoking carcass of the largest elephant of them all. Ayyub Tahar's charred remains were still visible on top of the creature.
'Thus dies the last of their Caliphs.'
The Great Struggle was over. Kalagashugora fell back into Uruk control.
The Tahars were utterly defeated.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Twelve




'I want that dog dead by sunset.'
-Alpha Thesseus the Merciless upon hearing of Temujin Kubadai's desertion


They found him under a pile of enemy dead. He was still breathing, despite numerous injuries sustained to the head. The emerald green giants that fell him were lying all around, their limbs hacked to pieces by angry Uruk warriors.
'Master, you mustn't move. Let the wounds heal!'
Alpha Thesseus the Merciless struck the Apothecary down, with one smack.
'Fool, a leader never bows to no one!'
Yet he was dizzy and they had to support him all the way to the carriage. Zolton, his trustee was there, supervising the sorting of the wounded.
'Callisto's blessing! Great one, you truly are fortunate!'
'Where's Kubadai?' was all that Thesseus wanted to know.
The question came in the form of a low growl, barely inteligeble even to those who spoke the Dark Tongue. All the Uruks kept their heads lowered. Not a one risked awoking the Alpha's famous ire.
'Sire... Kubadai...' Zolton's voice betrayed his anguish. 'Kubadai has left the field.'
There was a silence then, when all they had to hear was the wind moving the barley and their master's heavy-breath. One could see how hard he was fighting to keep the anger subdued.
'Find him. I want that dog dead by sunset.'

***

It was midnight when a muddied Temujin Kubadai reached the village. He was dead-tired but in a sense, proud that years of growing up in the Huang mountains have taught him how to evade his captors.
'The night is young and I still walk.That has to count for something.'
There was a calmness in the chilly midnight air, something that flowed through Kubadai's numb and battered body. He had suffered just like the rest of the army, yet in those dreadful moments of anger mixed with despair, he was the only one who realized that the Mesocalan Campaign was just his master's folly. He had to reassess the situation in order to survive for years to come.
'And I'm not planning of leaving my bones on some Paynal shrine.'
In the flowing mist, Temujin heard the baying of a hound. Then he reached the large gates of the warlord's hold. The village chieftain has left this place in a hurry, abandoning all livestock including a large, monstrous warhound.
The chained beast sniffed his hand but didn't bite.
'Were the same, you and I. Both abandoned instruments of our masters.'
Kubadai unchained the animal. They would walk side by side, from now on. The dog sniffing intruders from afar, keeping them safe and Kubadai finding food and shelter for the both of them. It was in this setup that they reached the opened doors of the village stables. The place was empty, just like anything else, the entire village left deserted as the peasants were rounded up to bolster the manpower to one of those huge armies they met just after landing.
There was no one left to challenge them. Then he noticed the yellow eyes flickering in the darkness. The large silhouettes obscured the moonlight falling through the empty windows.
Temujin knew what they were. Deserters, just like me. His mouth formed another word, instead.
'Brothers...'

***

Uzg Gorurz- Gortag ( Land of Tough Madmen), this is the name Thesseus the Mercilless gave to Zaca Pec after its fall, admitting in a sense, the maddened resistance the Paynals offered.
'For humans dressed in feathers, they fight well.' he even told his closest advisors.

This newfound admiration for the people they were supposed to be conquering did not sit well with the Old Guard. It was believed, in some circles, that The Merciless One has gotten soft. And that was bad news for the Dominion.
'If our enemies think us weak, imagine what they would do if they found what our Alpha thinks of them.'
With each new Paynal attack that the Dominion soldiers managed to repel, their leader's admiration for the hated enemy grew exponentially. It went to such extent that Thesseus once proclaimed
'These are not mere men! Take a look at how they fight!'
The Alpha even told his warriors that they should marry Paynal women as soon as possible, for 'blood in these feathered devils is strong'. Needless to say, this did not sit well with the troops.
Upon hearing Thesseus' claim that Paynal fighters were close to Breeding Pens standards back in the old continent, the officers and soldiers decided it was time to act.
It was during the Battle of Texcoco that the heinous crime took place.

For the first time in Dominion history, Uruks abandoned their leader to his fate.


***

Kubadai was not pleased with the quality of his troops. The only one who he felt safe to share his thoughts with, was his dog.
'They are not ready, Akula.' Temujin adressed his watchdog in the dark of the hut.
Akula sniffed around his curved legs, as if searching for a solution in the hay and dust.
'They're mostly Ly Kan and Reptarri recruits. They seem eager to fight, sure, but can they stand up against Uruks ?'
Just then, a youngster poked his fresh head in through the door and yelled out:
'Master, master! You must hear this!'
By the Steppe Wolf, I'm done for! They found me...
Temujin kept his composure but reached for his hunting knife. Better I should take my own life than be captured alive...
'What is it, Uglon?'
The Ly Kan grinned as if the secret he kept was tickling him from the inside out.
'Haven't you heard, master? The Alpha is dead!'
Temujin could not believe his ears. The youngster continued his story, not sparing one detail. It was the Uruks that decided,from the lowest ranks up to the higher echelons of the army. that Thesseus should not live to see another sunrise.
'By evening, the Paynals were still fighting. Accustomed to fighting the feathered devils midfield, The Merciless One did not took notice of his own troops abandoning him. They all left him, all, except for his Bodyguards.'
They weren't in on it, thought Temujin. Makes perfect sense.
'Tell me what happened next,boy! No embellishments or I'll gut you like a fish!' Temujin roared with glee.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Thirteen




'When the Alpha beckons, we rise.'
-Faustus Draganos before the battle of Avalon


Sunshine gleamed like danger to a brave man's eyes. Rows upon rows of Helots marched back into captivity, chains rattling in the crisp, morning air. Faustus Draganos stood, parchment in hand, stern and expresionless as a rock.
He looked down at the envelope, bearing the Crimson Talon, the sigil of Demos.The contents of the imperial letter were clear.
It was, more or less, a death sentence.

'Greetings, Kritar*

My spies inform me of your victory. Good job but there is no time to celebrate! I've heard rumors that Trayanus Hades plans an invasion on a faraway island. Follow him! I want to know each movement that worm makes in search of glory!'

He's trying to sound civilized but the nature of a mercenary is a hard thing to hide.

The letter bore the distinct brutal style of Alpha Thesseus the Merciless. It was blunt and concise, like an axe to the head.

'Before I decide to erase his futile presence from this land, I must be informed of his actions. Even so, his family of upstarts and delinquents will soon follow him into the mouth of hell. I know how you high-class officers think of me and I could care less. If you do not follow my order, your miserable existence will be expunged as well.

Remember, we do not need any pretenders shaming the throne of Slavos!'

The nerve of the bastard, calling the descendants of our Founding Father such names! Oh, no, Thesseus, I see only one pretender here.

The letter went on.

'Make sure Trayanus does not gather much support for his campaign. We do not want another Kujuk incident. I think I've made myself clear. And do not worry about me, Mesocala is plentiful and these savages know how to fight.
They are glorious!

See you soon, Kritar'


The ending seemed more like a threat than a promise. His lord-and-master could have him removed anytime from across the seas, if he ever so wished, thanks to an extended network of spies and assassins. Faustus knew, in his heart, that he had no choice.
'Bad news, sire?'
His trusted adviser Achilles had all the reasons in the world to be afraid. For one thing, his boss never smiled. This time, Faustus allowed his pale, thin lips to give a grin.
'The city of Sparta has fallen, old friend but our duty still stands.'
The commander-in-chief of Uruks in Hesperos gave one last look at the rows of prisoners. Crucify them! the other captains said, let them suffer the old Romuli punishment. But he showed them mercy. The Dominion cities were empty enough as they were, from the constant campaigning on distant shores. We need the man-power. And they listened to me.
'When the Alpha beckons, we rise.'
'As all good warhounds do.' added Achilles, grinding his teeth.
There wasn't much left to say. They either followed through, or their heads would leave their shoulders.
'Where to, sire?'
'To Avalon, Achilles. Pack your bow.'







*Captain ( in Black Speech)

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Crimson Talon




Chapter Fourteen




'How nice, they named a city after me. Wish they would've placed my son on the throne instead!'
-Heididrudis Hades after the sacking of Apelia


'No, not the pretty one.'
The lady of the house fell silent. Her long shadow dominated the wall adorned with trophies belonging to a bygone era. Heididrudis Hades watched herself in the painted glass mirror. There wasn't a palace window in the entire Dominion that could hide the ravages of time. She knew this all too well.
The broken reflection gave a sad smile back at her.
'Fay was the prettiest of us, by far. I could never understand what she ever saw in that filthy human. To each her own, I guess...'
The boy listened in the shadows. He never interrupted, never talked back, that was one of the many reasons why Heididrudis liked him.
'What's this I hear about you spending more and more time in the garden, watching the statues of your ancestors? Are you planning to join them soon?'
The silence in the room was pregnant with intent.
'I know you're eager. We both are. But we must be patient. We can't play this game yet. Not until all the cards are set, do you understand? Then and only then will you play your hand. It is a hard choice, yes, but it must be done. Do you know what they would do to us all, if they found out I was keeping you here?'
The boy sat motionless. His silence spoke for the both of them.
All this time, under their very noses. The last hope of a dying dynasty.
The daughter of the legendary Spartacus Hades had big plans for her son. If he stays alive long enough, he'll bury them all!
That is my dream, my deepest desire, my gift to the Dominion!


Heididrudis Hades

Heididrudisknew she had to be patient. The boy was young and full of ire, that much was certain. But he was the same as a diamond, freshly pulled out of the body of a mountain: rough on the edges and untainted but still, far too fresh.
He needs time. And so do I.

*

The cog's prow broke the waves in half, as it advanced towards the shore. The princess stood on the deck,gazing into the void with big, blue eyes. She was trying to ignore the press of the black bear-fur that hung heavy and wet around her shoulders. The men around her were cold too, but they were warriors all, hardened veterans of the Emerald Isle and none will show fear in the following encounter. That was a comforting thought, at least.

Not since the long winters have my people seen so much suffering. Those Avalon bastards raid our shores and border towns, each day they grow bolder. Their Knights rape and murder in the name of Arthur's Holy Grail. I spit on their Cross and their God.
I am Branwen O'Neil of the Clan O'Neil and I shall have my vengeance, in this life or the next.

With her on the bridge stood her brother, Aed O'Neil. He was wearing the black bear pelt and the blue woad face-paint of the Morrigan's Sworn, heaviest and most lethal warriors of the Gaelic Nations. He spoke, without losing sight of the wide sea.
'The Gaelic Nations need this marriage more than you, lass.'
Her brother left his hand over her shoulder as they both watched the horizon.
'T'is a harsh thing to ask a young maiden like ye to do, but trust me, when I say, we have no other way!'
Branwen smirked.
'Aye, that may be true, but it's not you who will lay with a monster!'
'If he offends you in anyway, I'll gut him like a fish.'
'Wish that you could do that before the marriage, not after, oh, brother o' mine...'
The sea water broke into foam in front of them, wetting their skin and furs.
'Sure, the Uruks aren't pretty to look at' Aed continued in his grim voice 'but maybe your offspring will be prettier!'
His Gaelic cheer was getting on her nerves.
'I doubt that, Aed. I truly do...'
The sentry spotted land. She felt her brother's arm tensing around her. His voice bellowed across the waves, telling the sailors to go below decks so as to start rowing.
'Look at it this way, lass: he'll either be a hero of his people, a champion in his own right, or a senile, old bastard. In each case, you win!'



Branwen O'Neil


Verstov Island was a desolate place, nothing but jagged rocks, pointing upwards like hands of fallen giants, lined its shores from east to west. There was nothing living there, except maybe fat white seals, the kind that the Gaelics saw in abundance, swimming next to their ship's prow, on their way across the deep, green seas.
But nothing send a shiver of terror among the ranks more, as when they saw that white banner, with the black cross painted on it, flapping in the wind, the flag of the killers of their ancestors.
'Teutons!' yelled Aed. 'It's an ambush! Arm yourselves, lads! Protect the princess!'
To this rallying cry and the clanking of shields and swords, nothing was heard except a low, snivelling snigger. The tall warriors looked behind the boat, to the source of the laughter. The Uruk envoy, a skinny wolfish black Ly Kan, was scratching his wiskers.
'Speak, beast! What madness have your masters send us into?!' Aed O'Neil insissted.
'They are not here for you...' the wolfman growled. 'They are here for master. When he dies, they will try to take the island.'
Branwen came closer, intrigued by such honesty.
' And your King knows about this? Why doesn't he send a war-party to throw them back into the sea?'
'The Alpha is most wise and most generous' purred the Dominion creature. 'He knows when to strike and when to hold his blow. You, humans simply cannot understand our ways...'
'I wish that my blade would be in agrement with this one's gutts'Aed whispered to his sister's ear.
'No, we are to be allies, not foes. It is not for this that I willingly give up my womanhood?' repllied Branwen. 'We will land next to those Christian dogs, for we are protected by the Alpha, as long as the Red Claw banner flies over our heads.'
The men grunted in agreement. The Gaelic Westerners never forgot what atrocities the Christian knights commited in their lands. It was hard to ignore the feelings of anger and frustration. Branwen thought back to a time, not when blood was spilled, but when wise words were said.
All of Tethra is counting on you girl, her mother told her. And if you have to bed a vile creature to ensure our people's survival then, so be it.
Again, the same bitter thought came to the young daughter of the O'Neil and she voiced it out loud, to the incoming shore.
'Sure mother, but it is not you who would be doing the bedding.'
Branwen did not share the amusement of the men. There was a hard task ahead of her and she could not stop thinking about things to come.
Could a beast love like a man?


On the rocky beach there was a shadowy figure waiting for them.
'What's this?' Aed O'Neil inquired. 'More of your beastmaster's minions?'
To this, the skinny wolfman let out a snarl, which could easily have meant a 'no', a 'yes' or an altogether different tune. Branwen was not scared, she knew she was the daughter of a chieftain, which would impose respect in all leaders, no matter their breed or culture.
Besides, she felt safe, knowing that the warriors of the Gaelic Isle were at her back, ready to strike at any given moment. The leader of the Morrigan's Sworn, her brother, was first to jump off, hitting the waves like a boulder, laughing and waving his sword, unashamed.
'Come now, brothers! Let's see what the beasts have prepared for us.'
The rest of the warband descended, their boots sinking into the soft sea-soil underneath the waves. The figure stood, unafraid.
Whoever he is, he's taller than any man I've ever met.
Branwen eyes fixed on the stranger, trying to make out the bestial features underneath the dark, blue hood. Without a warning, he opened his long arms, as if hugging the entire world.

'Welcome O'Neils of the Clan O'Neil! I have been expecting you.'

The voice was low thunder. Branwen's heart skipped a beat. Could it be?
For the beast standing before them, was none other than the heir of the Dominion throne, master of Verstov island, Slavos Jagathai, in person.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Fifteen




'No time for a rousing speech, looks like. Let's be at them, lads! '
-Traianus Hades upon seeing the hosts of Avalon gathered in the field




The fire burned through the last of the coals, warming the tent with its dying breath. Warriors of different creed and race watched the withered flames, their inhuman eyes glowing in the dark. They were gathered around the camp-fire, telling tales of old friendship.
'Sure, keeping a steady hand during battle is no easy task but all that changes with a few drops of Hadean wine!' Tiberius Hades added, making the soldiers chuckle. 'I'll take that to any sort of drink in our beloved Dominion.'
'I'd much rather taste Avernan ale than Avernan steel myself.' grunted Faustus Draganos in reply. 'Keeps the body alert and the senses strong. It reminds me of home. They don't make ale like that in the whole Dominion!'
Traianus inspected the stern face of his adjutant.
'It fits your temperament. Spartan yet sour, at the same time!'
The grunts inside the tent sniggered at the sound of their master's jest.
'However, there isn't enough sweet wine in the entire world that would make me forget about the mongrel who leads us!'
Silence fell. Traianus' words struck deep in the hearts of all the Uruks present.
'You are a Hades, my lord.' Faustus dared to intervene. 'It is only natural for you to disregard his authority.'
'What are you saying?' Traianus' sharp gaze could've pierced icebergs. 'Are you implying that Hadesians are a bunch of misbegotten rebels ?'
His adjutant took his time to answer. Faustus wondered if Traianus knew of his deal with the current Alpha.
If he did, he would've taken my head by now...
'Sire, your family is of royal blood. No one here denies it. We have been sent to this gods-forsaken rock because of it.'
The moment was still tense. Faustus Draganos swallowed. He had to chose his words carefully.
'The Alpha wants you dead, He sent me this letter.'
With a steady hand, Faustus gave away his most hidden secret.
'I trust this shows which side I'm on.'
The rest of the Uruks tensed, waiting to shed blood at a mere gesture of their general. The command never came.
'Thesseus must die. That much is certain.' declared Traianus.
He threw the papyrus into the flames.
'I do not need to see the contents of this letter to know what the Merciless One thinks of me. Anyone with a clear mind can see that. Uruks do not make good politicians. We make war. That is what we're good at.'
The soldiers grunted in approval.
'The question is...' continued Traianus.' who will dare to strike the first blow?'
The brazier had hardly any fire in it left. They stood alone in the darkness. Waiting at the precipice. The clamor outside was becoming impossible to ignore.
'You have my sword-arm, sire!' declared Faustus. 'In this life or the next! My fate is yours to command!'
Traianus Hades smiled.
'Aye, feels good to know we're of the same mind.'
The flaps of the tent moved and revealed a dusty herald, waiting to give news.
'Sire, it is time.' the Ly Kan announced.
Traianus lifted the rusty scimitar and pressed his forehead against the cold iron.
'At last! There is a time to live and a time to die. Follow me, my braves! For the Dominion!'
His Bodyguards took up the call.

'FOR THE DOMINION!'

They left the safety of their campaign tent and sunk into the battle that raged outside.

*

The landings on Avalon island were uneventful. It seemed to all that the Avalonians simply turned tail and ran as soon as they saw Dominion ships approaching.
The Uruks advance met no resistance, just livestock wandering the countryside, cattle left without an owner. Even their commander-in-chief declared that if the pagans kept hiding, the island would be theirs by sunset. But it would not be so. For the people of Avalon were a proud race, descendants of pious knights, unaccustomed to bowing to heathen invaders.
So it was that Traianus Hades and his company came upon a mighty fortress whom they deemed deserted for its battlements were covered with moss and its towers filled with weeds. Yet the castle was not empty.
Upon witnessing the arrival of the monsters, the garrison sent forth carrier pigeons to deliver its urgent call for help to the surrounding countryside. Not knowing the name of the place and its importance to the local folk, Traianus Hades ordered a siege upon it, because of its strategic position, deep inland.
But this was no ordinary castle, but the ancient hall of Arthur and his knights, throne-city, capital of the Kingdom of Avalon. And hundreds if not thousands of Avalonians, dressed in full panoply of war, gathered to answer the call of the beleaguered fortress.
Traianus, famed for his many victories against the Romuli on Avernus, paid no heed to the warnings of his scouts, telling him of a large enemy force coming his way.
And soon, they were surrounded by the hosts of Avalon and their numbers were legion for they were uncountable. It is written that Traianus Hades looked upon the enemy then to his Uruks and told them:
' If we must die here today, let us make sure we make certain they pay dearly for every Uruk they slay!'
So the men of Avalon were upon them and he slew them in great number because they recognized him as the leader of the invading force and knew he had to be put down first. The hour came when the skies were darkened by thousands of arrows and everywhere an Uruk looked, shafts would bar his way. Here the Dominion generals found out just how skilled the Avalonians were with the bow.
Fire burned from tips of the arrows that pierced Uruk flesh. Each way they went, they found only Yeoman archers, pouring down murderous fire upon them. Many had already became accustomed of collecting arrowheads in their backs during battle, but this was too much. Even seasoned veterans were heard asking for a withdraw.
'This island is a graveyard! We will all die here!' they cried but Traianus heard them not.
With his aide, Faustus Draganos by his side, he fought on, oblivious to the losses.
Traianus allowed his gaze to linger upwards, towards the misty skies. It was a brisk, sunny day when they landed. The sun was shinning. The fields were green and filled with flowers. Then the mists arrived. And with the fog, came knights riding heavy horses. The Uruks withstood their charge, and roared and bled. Traianus had nothing but love for his soldiers. Yet he knew in his heart, they were all doomed. Up there, the gods were silent against the fury of the battlefield. All around him, men and orcs bled, yelled and died.

*

By midday, it was an all together different landscape. The humans were crushed. All across the open fields, warriors of Avalon lay dead, dying or running back towards the castle. Faustus Draganos felt the hour was at hand, his moment had come.
His master had sent him on this accursed island with a mission and that was what he intended to do. No way in hell would he break decorum and stab a descendant of the great Slavos in the back, for Traianus was revered by many, as the natural leader and future heir to the throne of Demos.
All, except the Alpha... So he waited for the general to turn around and face him. Faustus had no choice. Death by human hand or by his brothers hands...They were all doomed to die there. He slew the humans with less heart than he did back in the mainland. Faustus saw resignation in the general's face and knew it was time to strike.

During battle, almost back to back , the two generals had time to talk, without making eye contact.
'There is no glory to be had here, only peasants and craftsmen fill their ranks. No true warriors, none of them.' Faustus bellowed to his superior.
'We all run into the jaws of the death, eventually.' replied Traianus , acknowledging his worries, as he killed a Man-at-Arms with a professional thrust down to his unprotected armpit. 'You just have to make due with what you got.'
Soon, the other Uruks became visible, among mountains of corpses.
' Have we won? Are there any more?' a trooper asked.
'No, brave one. Look, they are fleeing.' added Traianus.

'That's it, run back to your mothers, spineless worms!' someone in the Uruk lines roared with glee.
The others were too tired to cheer. They fought back a third wave of enemy infantry, with griveous lossses, now little else kept them from the afterlife. Covered in human blood, Faustus Draganos was just as exhausted as the rest. Achilles was by his side, watching for signs of danger. He remembered witnessing the landings on the beaches, from a high granite crest.
I thought this was going to be a raid, no more, no less.
It turned out to be an invasion. Full-scale, with all the panoply of war. Including siege machines. He was close enough to smell the salt-water and far enough to perceive the gathering of enemies clouding the horizon. Outnumbered once more. The sun was shinning across the blooming fields of Avalon. The invaders faced an army twice their size and won.
The Uruks were used to fighting many times their number. Yet in that moment, Faustus' face changed.
For among the ragged ranks of routing enemies, more silhouettes were advancing, in orderly fashion. Achilles counted hundreds, no, thousands of fresh new Avalonian troops, coming down the line.
'More of them are coming! Brace yourselves!'
The cry echoed down the line.
Reinforcements... By Callisto! They're twice the number of the ones we just killed...
It became apparent to Achilles that both, he and his chief, will not live to see another dawn.
'It was an honor serving with you.' he told Faustus Draganos.
There were no eulogies held for the Dominion army that died there. More lads from Hesperos and Avernus died on that grassy hill than in all the battles against the Romuli combined.
As more and more of their brethren fell, the Uruks, in typical stoic fashion, resign themselves to their fate. It was a clear, sunny morning of the second day of the landings when the last of the Uruks died.

Some Avalon soldiers discovered the corpse of Traianus Hades, where he fell, surrounded by the bodies of his Bodyguard.
The Romuli banner was found, wrapped around his chest, as a grim reminder that all empires crumble.



Faustus Draganos, shortly before his death

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Sixteen




'We've come to give you the Alpha's Mercy. '
-Unknown Uruk to Alpha Zolton, before his assassination




Battle of the Two Leaders, they called it. The night when we lost our lord and master.
There wasn't a soul inside the army that didn't want that bastard dead. All except one: his trusted servant, that sniveling cur who went by the name of Zolton and followed him everywhere, even on the way to the throne. But Zolton never got there.
After the Merciless One was slain by his beloved Paynal devils, his second-in-command was supposed to take his place. It was Thesseus' dying wish, apparently.
But we got to him first. He was tending to the wounded, as was his duty, offering the Alpha's Mercy* to the ones that needed it. When we came for him, he was still barking orders to his underlings, things that only him and they thought were relevant.
He saw us standing there, at the entrance of his tent and asked:
'What do you want? This is not a place for healthy Uruks.'
'We've come to give you the Alpha's Mercy.' said I, and the others jumped Zolton before he could speak again.
They finished him off with his surgical daggers, opening up his skull the way he had done so with countless of our brothers, wounded in the Alpha's senseless conquering adventures.
Zolton died before he found out he was declared leader. If he knew, he would've ordered the guards to stop us. But he didn't and now, the histories will remember him as the One-Night Alpha.
We named Argu to be our leader, he was one of Seleukos the Malevolent's generals. But he too perished, of old age, before he could go to Demos and receive the Rudis sword.
In the chronicles, Alpha Argu, father of Jubal the Bastard and Agnes the Snob, became the One-Week Alpha. After his death, the title went to the following worthy general, considered next in line by the High Council, not by blood but by right. He was the grandson of Alpha Seleukos the Malevolent and went by the name of Kaga.
Seleukos, in his time, married Mencia of the Ducado de Sangre Valiente, so Alpha Kaga landed in Ibellica to claim his rightful throne. The humans on the continent thought otherwise.
The heir to the Demos throne, Alpha Yar Attila, was the son of Seleukos and was considered too young to rule. He too had Valiente blood in his veins and that meant a war with the Valiente could not be avoided.
There were some prophecies that this next Alpha will be the one who will bleed us the most, even more so than the last.
Only time will tell. Until then, we soldiers must follow.



* Usually, Uruks are very resilient, shrugging off many wounds that would incapacitate a man. However, if an Uruk is too badly damaged, he is given the Alpha's Mercy, a finishing blow to the back of the head

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Seventeen




'No Romuli man cares if an animal lives or dies. '
-Gaius Caesar, when asked about the rights of Uruks living in the Empire




The funeral pire burned, sending ashes into the heavens. The heat of the flames made her eyes water, so much so that the servants thought she was crying. But she was not.
She had no reason to cry. Heavy with child, she still cherished the memory of the old warrior, their leader, whom she knew in a different light.
'Give me a warrior's death' he asked her, on their wedding night.
Branwen thought it was some kind of mating ritual, but the beastman was not joking. She could see it in his eyes. He was dead serious.
'Why?' she asked, feeling apprehensive at the prospect of a fight against a man the size of a mountain gorilla.
'It's the way of my people.' Slavos said to her.' I am old' he admitted. 'Far too old to be leading an army. I will die on this island. But you...'
His bestial eyes filled with all-too human love.
'You must survive. For your people, for both our tribes. Without a child, they will kill you. Blood will fall in rivers. I've seen it happen to other princesses. The Alpha will gladly make war upon your nation and he will send armies on your land just as easily as on any other land.'
He held out his black hand.
'Please, let's compromise. This will keep you safe from harm.'
Branwen O'Neil lowered the dagger. She had second thoughts about slicing his throat now. The monster makes sense. However ugly he may be, he's right.
There would've been bloodshed between their peoples, if the marriage was not consummated. It was a test. An old, blood thirsty tyrant's ploy to seek out new lands, new victims to slaughter. And the old veteran before her had no interest in playing this game.
'So be it.' she conceited. 'But if you harm me in any way, this goes into your throat.'
'I promise I'll be gentle. '
Branwen loosened the laces on her back. Slavos' wolfish yellow eyes turned from the dagger in her hand to her exposed body. She closed her eyes and allowed the senses to do their part. And strangely, in the moments that followed, it wasn't a monster that she held in her arms, but a man, heavy with regrets and worries, just like any other person she had ever met. And the dagger fell from her palm, eventually.
'Truly, beasts can love.' she addressed the chilling winds.
Her brother stood beside her, holding his hand on her shoulder.
'Good to know that. Time to go home.'
'Not yet.' Branwen's green eyes sparkled with mischief. 'It would be a shame to leave all these brave warriors behind.'
She gestured towards the Uruk guards.
'Besides, Verstov has a Queen now.'

*

After Alpha Yar Slavos died, the Dominion was in turmoil. Recently left without a leader, now the heir was missing too. Orders were given, clerks were rushed from place to place, until the Council finally reached an agreement. The Rudis would go to the grandson of Alpha Seleukos the Malevolent, an Uruk named Kaga.
He had Valiente blood in his veins, from his grandmother: Mencia of Ducado de Sangre Valiente. It was customary for Uruk royals to marry human princesses.
It kept the foreigners at bay.
A relatively unknown general, no royal blood in his veins, was named heir. Then, war started and this new Alpha Yar was tested.

*

The mountain-pass was filled with ice and silence. Recently appointed Yar, Jovinius scanned the mountain-side for signs of ambush. It was one thing to lay in wait, another to be caught off-guard.
One could never be too sure.
'General, the humans are advancing, just as predicted. ' a lowly grunt delivered the report.
'What of their reinforcements?'
The Uruk soldier smiled.
'None in sight, sire. We await your command.'
It could be a trap, thought Jovinius. He'd spend years fighting the humans, on two continents. The Chevaliers were tough and unpredictable. The Avalons were no better. Their honor makes them hard to kill. We'll have to finish them off, one by one.
'Remember lads, leave none alive. Let the crows have their due!' he growled to the surrounding troops. 'Now, to your places! You know what to do.'
Every Uruk, every spearman knew what was expected of him.
If we fail here, we die.
And they go down and kill the rest of our people, their general said to them, before the battle.
There was still time to listen to the wind whistling through the high pines. There was no time for prayers. They could hear them coming up the hill. Horses panting, heavy with equipment. Carrying armored knights, most likely.
Jovinius ordered his crossbowmen to load their bolts. In other conditions, he would have ordered his Uruks to raise shields, so as to deflect enemy arrows.
But when a gust of wind spread the mists apart, Jovinius could not believe his eyes.
'Those are not Avalon banners!' he roared.

*

Karl von Balk looked up, towards the snow covered mountain crest. Sure enough, bolts were flying down. Hundreds of them. He turned and yelled:
'Shields! Schnell!'
But his men were not prepared. Many brothers fell, their white cloaks flowering crimson. His rage filled him, pushed aside all reason and he urged his horse up the hill. 'Bloody animals! I'll kill them all!'
'Mein Herr, wait!' Johann, his adjutant called to him, to no avail. 'It is a trap!'
Too late. The Teuton Knight was surrounded, like many of his brethren. Dark Uruks, together with Borgia Guardia mercenaries cut down the proud Teutonic cavalry.
The sound of each horse dying, halberd to the neck and head, was a wound on Karl von Balk' soul. 'Nein, not the Halbbruder!'
He begged to the heavens for the Uruks to stop slaughtering the young squires. But it was too late. He was trapped under a dead horse, waiting to be captured like so many others and all he could do was watch.
We blew our cover, we went in too soon... he thought bitterly as two massive Dominion soldiers approached. We could've had them all, if we attacked from the rear...
But it was too late, far too late.

*

Jovinius heard the horses before he could react. His command center was wiped out, in a instant, a blink of an eye, by remaining Teutonic cavalry charge. He was thrown off the cliff, into the abyss below.
His last words were: 'At them! At them!' as he cheered the bands of Rogues diminishing the Order spearmen. Green on white, they fought, until white was no more. From the many prisoners lined up for slaughter, one was Karl von Balk.
He made no claims of his noble origins, he offered no ransom demands.
It was Free Company Pistoleers that captured him, in the end.
The Uruks saw his lavishly adorned mantle and recognized him as the commander.
They pushed him off the cliff, in the same manner his rival perished.
There were no last words, no epitaphs.
But the Teutons were now at war with the Dominion.
All because a Teuton commander wanted to preserve chivalric honor, by helping out a doomed Avalon troop, caught in a valley below.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Eighteen




'Weapons are merely tools, there to do a job, not pretty ornaments.'
-Toke One-Eye of Demos



After Battle of High Mountain, all Uruks cheered for a new chance of employment. New enemy meant new lands to plunder, new women to kidnap!
Celebrations were held all throughout the Dominion. Even with the Yar dead, Uruks and Reptarri alike welcomed this new state of affairs. Only the human minority felt against this new choice, fearing that the nonhumans might grow too bold in their rulership.
A new Yar was named, Attila, the infamous father of Alpha Kaga.
For the first time in Dominion history, the heir was older than the leader himself!
This fact only strengthened Attila's faith in his own destiny, him, a lowly general, born out of wedlock. Rumor has it that Seleukos the Malevolent was not his real father. Nonetheless, Seleukos was himself a mercenary, at heart. So no royal blood was to be found in this new, emergent dynasty. And there were voices speaking against it, already.
One of those voices was Heidindrudis Hades.

*

The boy read on, under her watchful surveillance.
'Fay Hades married a human.'
He stopped, swallowed and looked up from the yellow pages of the chronicle. 'Go on!' his aunt urged him on.
'Heinz Guderian he... he was called, a general from a faraway kingdom. By the time the couple arrived in Demos, the capital was wraught by bitter in-fighting between various factions. So it was that Heinz became Alpha, with all other descendants dead or missing.'
'How was my mother like?' asked Jubal the Bastard, taking his eyes off the text. This annoyed Heidindrudis greatly so she snorted a reply.
'Weak.' Heidindrudis felt the word fly out her mouth.
Jubal's aunt had very little to say about his mother. She remembered Vespa quite clearly.
A scrawny little thing, crying her eyes out at her wedding as if she was marrying the devil himself.
Of course, she could not confide this to the boy. Due to Alpha Argus decision to marry a foreign princess, the Dominion had assured itself an ally on distant shores.
Avalon. Queer name for a kingdom, she thought. Now the bastards are at war with us and Vespa's spawn is asking me stupid questions! How the wheel turns...
' Like any other human female.' she continued. ' But as fate would have it, you have your father's blood in your veins. You'll be a strong warrior someday.'
The boy's face flared up with excitement.
'When will I see a battlefield?'
'Soon, my young one, soon. Have patience.'
The lad's expectations were high, but the truth be told, due to his questionable origin, he would never become anything more than a general, a mere peon in the true Alpha's game. You're no danger to my son.
'Will I marry a foreign prince?' asked Agnes, Jubal's sister. More idiotic questions that I have no mood to answer.
The Snob, the soldiers call this one. Callisto's breasts, they were right!
Just the sight of her childish pout and all-too human eyes made Heidindrudis feel sick to her stomach. She hated the position her family placed her in, with a vengeance.
Matriarch? Bah, more like wet-nurse. A glorified wet-nurse to sniveling brats, that's what I become
From behind the shades, she felt her son was watching.
Atlas... You will rule them all one day.

*

The camp was in disarray. Drunken soldiers staggering everywhere. Uruk and human alike, not one of them sober. Geru felt like he was in a bad dream. All notions of order were flowing down the drain, alongside goat entrails and puke.
Every now and then, a grunt would pass by, inviting him to join in the debauchery, he'd smash his eyes closed and wait for another to come. So far, he'd put to sleep eight of his comrades. He tried his best to stay awake.
Wake up! his mind would whisper. But his senses would tell him otherwise.
The master has gone mad. It was a reality he'd long feared.
The day would come when you'll have to put me down, the Conqueror once told him but he didn't believe, he didn't want to. They were kings, they were better then kings, living on top of the world, gathering more riches than they could spend, killing more enemies than any of the heroes from the old chronicles, they were vanquishers of peoples, destroyers of nations yet still, something was missing.
From all this slaughter, nothing new and good can rise. We are truly cursed! Arcadius said to his troops. Monsters in a world that doesn't want us, intruders in our own country. They don't want us back. We will never be loved. So we might as well drown this world in blood!
And that they did. Until there was no more blood to shed. No widows crying over dead husbands. No high mountains to climb over. No cities on the horizon to siege. Nothing but dust and crows for miles.
They've reached the end of their journey.
Must find my master, Geru pulled himself up. I'm not going to die in this place. And neither will he.
He found Arcadius imperial tent easily enough, all the sigils and the bear insignia dwarfed by the giant red claw of the Dominion posted at the entrance. Inside there was chaos: pillows torn apart, the slave women were scared out of their minds.
They gathered around him as if he was a saviour, their naked form quivering with fear.
'The master went mad again!' Ava, the leader of the pack, a sultry Hadesian brunette dared to tell the tale. 'He threw the servants out, he... he wrecked the furniture, he even bit Yasha!'
The girl showed Geru her wounded arm.
'What are we to do?'
'Enough mewling!' the Uruk cut her words short. 'Which way did he left?'
Ava's face grew white with fear.
'He was heading for the Baracks. Stop him, Geru! Before he undone us all!'

*

The curtain moved, revealing the shadowy figure behind it. Purple, the color of Emperors, Heidindrudis thought, observing the drapes and their golden laces. Another wretched remnant from the time of the Romuli that the Alphas of Demos were quick to imitate.
Power must be preserved, her grandfather once told her. Symbols of fallen empires aside, her son looked the picture of health, as he stepped out from the shadows.
'Come here, boy. Let me take a look at you.'
Her hand touched his cheek, relishing in the youthful freshness of it.
My son, my heir, my future lord.
She studied his slender frame, bewitched by the sight of natural robustness. Bone-white hair flowed across muscular shoulders, the weakling lineage of his patriarch made evident only in those willowy joints of his. But other than that, her son, Atlas Cerberus, was tall, strong and warlike.
He should be so, she thought. For his father, Kaokan, was a Chieftain among the Sycorax.She hated that marriage with all her guts, but there was no opposing Alpha Cerberus' will. Her father conquered nations and his word was law across the Dominion.

And now, his nephew bears his name, soon to be greater than he ever was and...

The blade struck hard and deep, embedding itself into her royal being. She stared into her son's eyes. Words failed to leave her mouth.
'What...what are you doing?' Heidindrudis struggled to say.
Atlas' stare was a cold one.
'Leaving you, mother.'
He turned and left the room, drapes flapping in his wake. She fell to the floor, her legs too weak from the blood loss.
Shock was settling in, aloowing her limbs to sleep.
Heidindrudis looked down, at the murder weapon, still in her side. A kitchen knife?! Bastard couldn't've offered me the honor of a real sword...
She turned on her back, gasping for air.
No decency... Not a shred of it left.
Something wet, warm was trickling down her throat, forming in a small rivulet that ran all the way down, between her proeminent breasts.
Blood. I'm dying. Why is this happening to me? After all my struggles...
Heidindrudis heard footsteps on the marble floor. Someone's coming! Good. Anyone would do fine, even a filthy human!
She turned to look, muscles straining on her long pale, neck. It was no slave, no palace guard coming to her rescue.
Instead, all she saw was Jubal the Bastard, staring at her, with glowing eyes.
Her throat was dry.
'Help...help me...'
Go get someone! Hurry! Don't just stand there!
She wanted to scream. But the boy did not move.
Heidindrudis, her mind clouded by pain, understood in that final moment, with perfect clarity.
He won't get help. He'll just stay there... Watch me bleed to death.

[Lord of the Drunk Penguin]

Chapter Nineteen




'Do not talk about my eye. Do not stare into my eye. Do not think about my eye.'
-Toke One-Eye of Demos addressing new recruits




Wolfsburg, fortress-capital of the Teutons.
High in the mountains she stands, towering above the countryside with her grim, snow clad battlements. Inside its Main Hall, the knights are gathering. Stern black crosses splayed on white cloaks everywhere.
'Borgia Guardia withstood the charge of our Order's cavalry.' Lord Theodoricus stopped for a moment then continued his battle-report.
'We... we could not break through their second line of defense. After that, it was all over. They caught our Longbowmen by surprise and massacred them. The Chevalliers Vexille killed many of our brethren. None were shown mercy.'
The lords and Ritterbruder present at the round table kept their silence.
'They will not leave .'
Frail looking in his Order master armor, Hochmeister Ludwig broke the quiet, hand kept to a weary brow.
'Borgia, Vexille, Medici. All these dogs must be hunted down and expunged from the face of the earth.'
The knights all agreed with murmurs and grunts.
'They crawled out of their holes once the Black Fiends of Demos landed on our shores. In these dire times, we shall be vigilant. Our enemies have shown their true colors. After this defeat, they will only grow bolder. We should've extinguished their families along time ago., when we had the chance...'
'Meister, lend me a Kommende! I'll scour the countryside and bring you the heads of these traitors!' Ordenmarschall Hugo intervened, eyes flashing with fervor.
'Nein, mein Herr! You will do no such thing!' Ludwig exploded. 'You will not deprive us of much needed steel, now, in this dire hour! Why, if we send you on this fool's errant, who'll protect the towns and villages? Who will man the forts? No one! Not a soul! I will not allow that to happen!'
The Hochmeister's mailed fist struck the table.
'Nein. If we are to prevail, we must show guile. These are not simple Livonian peasants that we are facing. No, these are veterans of many campaigns. Warlike and proud. That...shall be their undoing. '
The brethren could see a scheme hatching in his mind. The Hochmeister smiled and it was terrifying.
Ludwig stood, pulling out his sword and placing its hilt upon his forehead.
'As the Lord above is my witness and Protector, I shall not stop until all our fallen brethren are revenged. '
More swords were unsheathed. Steel struck steel in brotherly fashion.
'Your wish is mein command. ' Ordenmarschall Hugo bowed his head.
And so did the others.

*

The ice broke under their toes as they crossed into enemy territory. Herakles Argu was angry at his troops for not moving more swiftly inland.
'Faster, you gits! What, you want to live forever?'
After landing in Northern Europa, the Uruk commander knew that if surprise was to be achieved, time was of the essence. The rapid advance he had hoped for was bogged down under tons of snow. What made him more angry was that he could see the prize, looming above the tall pines in the far distance.

Fortress Wolfsburg, capital of the Teutons.

If he captured it, the glory would be immense.
They'll give me lands in Ibellica, a proper title and hundreds of slaves! That was what drove him on, through thick and thin. His Uruks, who braved the blizzard at his side, were all hoping for a quick victory or an even quicker death. More were suffering from frostbite than they would've liked to admit.
Some had fingers frozen stiff to the hilts of their axe-swords.
None complained however. When victory was in sight, it was a foolish thing to do.
'I said faster!' Herakles Argu roared in front of the column. 'If one peasant sees us, this raid is over!'
Then they heard trumpets. Loud and clear, coming at them through the storm as a wailing of banshees.
'What in Tartarus is that?!'
Herakles bared his fangs against the blinding snowfall.
'Those are not the warhorns of Demos.'added his half frozen second-in-command.
'I know, fool!'
There is no time to waste.
'Shields up! Defensive formation!' bellowed Herakles Argu to his troops.
Soon enough, they heard the horses trampling the frozen snow. From all sides, they came. Teutons dressed for battle, wearing the entire panoply of war. The black bronze shields of Uruk soon lay in the snow.
In the thick of the fight, their massive leader found himself stranded. A few of his guard still lived so he gathered them for one last push.
'Come on, you brave bastards! Let's show these pigs how Uruks die!'
Yelling their warcry, they plunged into the fray. Once, twice, to no avail. The horned, white knights on their tall horses were cutting them down, one by one. Though heavily outnumbered, Herakles Argu managed to slip out.
His massive stature marked him out as a target of importance, so all the Teutons around tried to fell him with sword, halberd and bolt. Shrugging arrows aside from his back, the gargantuan leader reached the snowy hill-top from which he could survey the onslaught.
An ambush, no doubt. He could see white clad Teutons cutting his men down in the valley below.
They were waiting for us.
Herakles cursed through his teeth. Vapor flowed freely from his mouth and wounds. But just as he pondered one last suicidal charge, he saw the enemy commander,leading his men for another charge against some doomed Ly Kan spears.
'There you are, worm! ' Herakles growled. 'I spit at thee!'
He rolled down the hill, more falling than running, pushing his strained muscles to their limit. The Teutonic commander didn't see him until it was too late. Herakles Argu jumped, high above the heads of horses, his scimitar shinning in the wind.
A last roar of defiance and the beast fell, on top of the Teutons' lord and commander. They rolled down the crest, white mantle against black carapace. For a while, none of the combatants watching the scene knew which one was the winner.
In the end, only Herakles Argu rose to his feet. He held the Teuton's head in one hand, and his broken, bloody axe-sword in the other. Arms outstretched in the air, he gave out one last roar of defiance.
Halbbruders brought him down, cutting into his stature with massive halberds.
The Uruks scattered in the wind. But the Teutonic Knights did not celebrate.
Theodoricus von Wolfsburg, esteemed military commander and a member of the ruling family was dead, decapitated by the monstrous chieftain of the black beasts.
The battle's end remained undecided.

*


The waves broke against the jagged rocks of the shoreline. One by one, or in pairs, the mighty soldiers of a conquering army were coming ashore.
'Nothing but seashells!' groaned Alpha Kaga, bored out of his mind.
He'd expected some sort of resistance to be presented to him. Anything or anyone might've done nicely, instead all he got was fishermen and friendly common folk welcoming him. No foes to wet his appetite for miles on end.
'This is outrageous!' the black brute yelled to his captain. 'What's left to conquer here?! Nothing but rocks and dead fish! I'm on a conquering mission, not a fishing expedition!'
He kicked sand into his men faces. Watching this sad show was Draganos Hades, son of Gennadius Hades who was the oldest son of the legendary Sulla Hades, Conqueror of Constantium.
Tall, massively built, blue skinned, with long black hair, he knew when to shut up and when to talk. He, like others beside him, felt unappreciated.
They disliked their current leader, who was prone to acting like a petulant child more often than not. But, unlike his fellow generals, Draganos was a member of a dying dynasty, so he had more reasons to hate than anybody else.
'Sire, we've landed on Dominion soil. ' he spoke, taking the brunt of his master's bad mood, as always. 'It is natural that no resistance is given. It means that the people want us here.'
This got the great leader's attention.
'Natural? You call this natural?!' roared Kaga, gesturing towards the fishing village.
Draganos grinned.
'They seem happy.'
'They don't know what life is! Look at them, rolling in the muck for a few trinkets, collecting sea weed in their nets! You call that living?'
'No, I call that surviving. May I remind you, sire , that you're standing on the very same place that our glorious ancestor Spartacus once landed. He paved the way for us to stand here and watch these peaceful sailors do their fishing.'
Kaga snorted.
'Your ancestor maybe, not mine.'
'Noble Alpha' Draganos insisted. ' we will arrive at the gates of the Valiente soon enough. Their neighbours, the Faustians, have already pledged their support to them, so there will be plenty of glory for everyone once we get there.'
'Once we get there....' Kaga mockingly repeated. 'By the time I'm there, Arcadius would have subdued all the humans left on this continent. I'm sick and tired of hearing about your glorious relatives.'
Draganos held his tongue. Undoubtedly, the Alpha was already informed of the Saint's latest victory, the taking of Castello de Bandajoz. It became Kala Arcadia, the seventh city to bear the conqueror's name, inside the Dominion.
They were already calling him the Alexander of Uruks, at court. Sometimes, Draganos wondered if the Hades family would've been better off had his uncle proven himself less successful in battle. But talent is talent and there was no denying it, Arcadius was a great military commander, no matter how many Alphas envied him.
Kaga was no exception.
'It seems I have developed a reputation among the rank and file, for flogging my inferiors. Seeing how talking against your Alpha's better judgment is considered insubordination, that leaves me no choice but to correct your behavior, noble Draganos.'
The leader licked his lips.
'Atilius, fetch me my whip.'
Looking on with wet eyes, Atilius Ragnvald had no choice but to obbey. He and Draganos were friends since childhood, growing up together and training under the same instructor.
Bald, pale and meek-looking, he brought his master's instrument of choice.
Draganos Hades did not permit the Uruk guards to touch him and undressed his upper body half by himself. He kept his head high for he knew this would only set a bad example.
The whip whizzed through the air, its spiky barbs soon biting into flesh.
'So, tell me more about your famous uncle.' Alpha Kaga smiled.

*

Geru found Arcadius at last, standing at the edge of the Great Dugout, where they would typically bury the dead after a great battle. Night had fallen and he could see clearly what his master was doing.
By Callisto, he's burning standards!
'Master, stop!'
His servant's hand upon his arm awakened him.
'What... what is it? Are the humans attacking?'
Arcadius reached for his scimitar. Geru held him by the back of the head, as he always did at times such as these.
'No, master, you've won! The castle is ours! The humans have surrendered. We are lords and masters here!'
Arcadius' tormented face showed no relief. He looked like he was about to cry. Just like a filthy human.
'Then, why... why is there fire? What is this burning in my hand?'
The Greystoke Banner. Or, what was left of it. Decades of glorious battles, lost in the wind.
'Master, you've suffered another stroke. ' Geru struggled to seem reasonable. 'Your mind, master, it plays tricks on you. Don't listen to it. Come back to us! We're all here.'
Truth be told, the men and Uruks under Arcadius command were faraway, drinking and feasting in the camp. It was only him by his side. Waiting for the great leader to come to his senses.
'Geru, is that... is that you? Gods, how long has it been? Weeks, months? Years?'
Geru smiled, tears rushing down his cheeks.
'No master, just hours. You're missing the feast. The men are worried. Come, let's join them.'
He held his master by the arm, like a soldier drags a wounded comrade. It was fortunate that the master didn't find some human mercenaries tent, for then it would've been a slaughter. This time.
Lucky I was here.
'Geru, who's left to fight us? The Tahars? The Hispanics? The Greystokes? Gone, all gone... All I have left, is ... dirt. And... memories.'
The tattered remains of the banner flapped in the breeze. Arcadius inspected the markings, his brow frowning from the effort of remembering.
'Easy, master. One step at a time. We're almost there.'
'Geru, I've lost so many. You're the only one left. Geru, my faithful servant!'
Arcadius struggled with the hazes of his mind. There were never enemies around that night. There was only Geru, always Geru, carrying him back to his tent, like he did, on so many nights.
'I'm not worthy of servants such as you...'
He could barely speak. His body trembled, not from cold, but from the shame of knowing. Memories flooded back. He could see how many times Geru had saved his life, in each siege, there he was, standing beside his ruler like a guardian demigod.
'I did it because of you, master.' Geru admitted. ' If you were any different, I would've let you to rot!'
Arcadius gave a throaty laugh.
'Callisto's mercy! How we have found each other! The servant and the madman!'
They could see the camp fires now. They could hear the music.
Minstrels and camp wenches were amusing the soldiers. They could hear laughter.
'Promise me one thing, Geru.'
'Anything, master.'
Arcadius' scowl turned into a menacing grin.
'Promise me you won't save me next time.'
Geru smiled and said the same thing he did before, on each of those nights.
'I will, master. I promise.'