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Silas stared through the cracked windows of his Summoning Chamber, watching the meagre force of ratguard bustle about as they tried to spruce up the place in preparation for the King's arrival.
He smiled to see it. Ants, toiling under his vision.
Only a week ago they had looked on him as an...
“We’re gonna make it, son!” Marvin screamed above the death-rattle of the rocket that was currently on course to turn them both into mincemeat.
No, Marcus thought again as he looked into the black column homing in on their position. Not this time…
Marcus’s hand flared up of its own accord...
The First-Talon watched the eyes of the Talon-Commander of Clan Red-Eye in the split second he had before the latter lunged with his machete, killing instincts well and truly taking over now.
Marcus's hand flew of its own accord to protect him, firing an arc of chained green lightning at...
The unlit staircase of the Grindlefecht West Tower seemed to stretch on forever as he stumbled up its dank, dust-strewn steps.
“How much farther?” he asked his companion.
“To the top of the tower, Marcus!” Silas shouted up at him as they peered around the bend in the staircase column. “We...
Silas licked his lips in the face of Marcus’s pain and the urgency of his question.
His answer was no less urgent: “In exchange for your transportation, I will require some small payment.”
Marcus’s raised brows asked his next question for him.
“That,” Silas said, nodding hungrily at the...
“Quite a thing, isn’t it? To live in terror.”
Marcus looked into the dark beyond his cell, trying to make out the creature that spoke in clearer tones than anyone he’d ever heard down here.
The cracking green light from his throbbing hand afforded him just enough luminosity to bathe the face...
"'Honor'?" Marcus spat back at Skeever. "You have a funny way of showing it, Skeever Steelclaw."
The Talon-Commander shook his proud snout. Whatever his aspirations were, he clearly didn't imagine that the man sitting across from him had the moral high ground here.
"You think I am a traitor...
A single torch sconce burned bright against the darkness of Grindlefecht's fourth dungeon.
Most of its underground chambers had survived the initial assault and the subsequent collapse. The etched carvings on the cold iron walls were untouched by the chaos that had erupted above. Through two...
Marcus stared through his groggy eyes at his servant, watching the high priest work his magic, weaving threads of restorative energy through his gnarled fingertips. Energy that he sorely needed himself, by the looks of his pallid features.
“We are born…in rot,” he said with an almost serene...
"How do you do it?"
He asked her the question in what felt like a vacuum, the stars above serving as the only reminders that he was still on earth.
"Do what?" Mari replied, turning over on the grassy knoll to face him. "If this is about my looks, I wake up in the morning like this. And –...
As he let Ix’s limp arm fall from his hand, Marcus felt only a dull numbness take over him.
He ignored Deekius’ words meant to console his fading spirit, and instead stumbled away from the Kobold’s fallen form in silence, lumbering back up the crater to see the seven or so still-living...
"-ire! Sire!"
The world was a blur of sound and fury.
Marcus's eyes opened to reveal the bloody form of Deekius above him, his hood long since singed and discarded, revealing a face scarred by the remnants of the explosion.
Around him was a field of burning ratman corpses – the ratguard...
The once sprinting Kobolds of Grindlefecht had dropped their weapons before Talon-Commander Ix. They threw themselves to the ground, faces twisted, doubled-over with fear. As soon as the ashen cover had dropped, it seemed they had finally succumbed to rationality. They had realized just how...
"FIRE!"
The cannons roars ripped through the dank, dust-filled air, tearing into the Kobold's uncoordinated mass with the ease of an eagle in a dovecot. The cannonballs struck true, splintering pieces of Kobold skulls and torsos and then rolling along a deadly path that cut right into the...
“D-Dekius!”
Marcus stumbled his way through the thick ash cloud that had enveloped the ratman forces, hearing the sounds of sporadic combat echo and weave through the battlefield.
“C-cough complete madness!” Skeever shrieked beside him. “MEN! IF YOU ARE HAVING EARS TO HEAR ME, BE FORMING...
They often said that the moments of calm before battle was where fear struck most men’s hearts.
But personally, Marcus found that the sprinting towards the enemy was generally worse.
He urged his Spineripper on, nestled amongst the inner ranks of Skeever’s advancing ratguard, and looked up...
-Grindlefect perimeter, Sire Marcus Graham's War Camp-
Marcus looked upon the army assembled in his name – a patchwork force compiled of creatures that could turn the stomach of a seasoned Green Baret.
Spinerippers, spearmen, swordbearers and ratguards all bearing implements of war, flanked by...
When Marcus opened his tent flap and breathed in the smog of the Underkingdom, he wasted no time in getting right back into where the fighting would be thickest.
It would be better than trying to justify all this, and it would take his mind off of Skeever's words which, like it or not, were...
"Truth, eh?" Marcus smiled.
Skeever approached him cautiously, like a sick cow approaching its driver.
"You once told me to trust you, Sire," he said, weapon suspiciously absent from his hip.
A sign of trust? Marcus thought. He's never been seen dead without Gatskeek's cleaver…
"I did,"...
WE ARE BACK
--NEW SCHEDULE: M-W-F-Sun. This is so I can maintain chapter quality while avoiding the dreaded author burnout--
"Those of you who still value your lives," Marcus said, in a voice that would reverberate through the ears of every Kobold child from that day forward. "Pledge yourself...