Darkness fell upon the world, and the day-time animals fled to their nests and the nocturnal emerged from their dens, stalking the woods for unwary travelers. The men, women, and children of Marn filled the wide streets of the walled city as the shops closed, and everyone wandered through the dim, torch-lit streets for home.
Marn was a grand city, and the capital of the Thoth empire. The city was very large and decorated with smooth cobblestone streets and marble statues and fountains in every district. The Buildings were made mostly of stone, though some were brick, and they were all either connected or loosely separated from each other, creating small, thin alleyways that were also kept partially clean, though the Street Workers tended to avoid them, as the stores and houses would often keep their trash and bodily wastes there in large buckets, awaiting to be taken by the farmers in their wagons, to be used for their fields.
Tall metal posts lined the streets and doors of shops, hanging elaborate glass and metal lanterns above the streets, casting their light onto the stones and houses of Marn, keeping its beauty visible even in the night. They were tall enough for even a wagon to pass under, and they were well maintained and cleaned regularly by street workers, who would roam around their district at night, cleaning the streets and reporting any stones that needed to be replaced, as well as reporting anything particularly odd they found.
Owls often perched themselves on the roofs and posts of Marn, scanning the streets for anything to eat. They seemed to be more attracted to the Ware District, where all the Storehouses were located. There were several rodents that made this district their home, and could often be found scuttering from building to building along the streets and roofs. The poor would often wander these streets, looking for anything to eat, and would often find a place to sleep here, often taking shelter in the alleyways of these streets to escape the weather. These alleyways were different from the rest of the city, as no one lived in this district - the merchants used it as storage, often preferring to set up their shops in the other, more populated districts.
Tori, the king of Marn, had tried to feed the poor and had even converted a couple empty buildings into cheap dwellings for them, which were quickly filled. He had converted nearly all the empty or abandoned buildings, but after seeing the mass of the poor that swarmed to them, he had made plans to construct a completely new district. This project was eating the treasury very rapidly, and though Marn was amongst the wealthiest cities in the land (and the most populated), they were quickly losing this status, and giving Tori the name “Tori the Good”.
The Barons had objected to this project, but the rest of the castle staff supported Tori in his decision.
Tori hated the Barons, but his father had loved them, and they him. He had dedicated a part of the courtyard to the construction of the House of Barons, and that itself had made them like him. His father would often turn to them when he was unsure, and they would debate about what to do, keeping their profits in mind. His father didn’t much care for the finances, and was poor with them, but the Barons knew exactly what to do to increase their own while making the city progressively more wealthy and miserable for anyone else living in it. The only reason Tori had put up with them is because he couldn’t disband them, otherwise they would leave the city, taking their stores and money with them. They hated Tori within two months of his rule, and if they were disbanded, he doubted anything good would come from it, but he wished it, all the same.
Tori entered the Throne Room dressed in his regal ware, a blue silk robe with white puffy seams that started half way down the chest, and continued to spread outward toward the bottom, making a sort of upside down “v”, the underlying silk of which was red. On his feet he wore black leather boots, two buckles on the sides, and under his robe he wore white silk leggings and shirt. Around his shoulders he wore a red silk cape, Marn’s symbol on the back - a lion lunging at a knight, who held a raised sword, ready to strike, and a cross on his shoulder, letting out a battlecry.
That is one thing Tori was proud of his father for - before his reign, the symbol was of a growling lion, but during his reign he had constructed several guild houses for his few allies, allowing housing for their soldiers. Soon, the word had spread throughout all of the land, extending past Thoth’s borders, and attracting men of several different kingdoms and groups to the city. However, with each group came their flag, and it had become apparent that Marn may need to modify its own flag to accommodate this variety of people and cultures. There had been several suggestions by his people and the foreigners, but there was only one that had struck his father as particularly interesting - it pictured Marn (the lion), along with two other of the most predominant guilds: Heaven’s Band (the holy knight), and a smaller band of men, who didn’t belong to an empire, but instead roamed the land, looking for what they called a “Proving”, which was any form of bloodshed they could find, be it slaying bandits and rebels, or one of the mighty nocturnal beasts of the land, which the forests around Marn was famous for. These men called themselves the Mak Stwomi, meaning “The Purveyors” (the battlecry).
Heaven’s Band was a sort of holy empire, who also commanded the strongest military in all the land, the holy Knights. They were not really an ally, but they were on good terms with Thoth. The Mak Stwomi, however, were brutes who killed for sport, and had an insatiable bloodlust. They roamed the lands looking for battle, and they settled in Marn only for the beasts that roam the forests.
They would frequently get into brawls with others, mainly members from Heaven’s Band, being that their beliefs were so different. They had short tempers, and the Holy Knights would often insult them, and being that the Mak Stwomi were not known for word play, they would often confront with force.
This had caused some unrest in Marn, and Tori was having a hard time keeping order. Eventually he had to separate the two on opposite sides of the city, breaking from the cities organization. They both wanted to stay, the Mak Stwomi for the beasts, Heaven’s Band for the sake of conversion. They had said they were to protect Marn from invaders, but the only fights and skirmishes that happened within the Thoth empire were at its borders, for if an inner city was attacked, the invaders would be quickly surrounded.
Tori had accepted these Holy Knights, regardless. Marn was not filled with a single religion, but a mass of several. Many of the people seemed to believe simply in The Great Fate, and not any religion - they believed it was just fate, and not a designated path. Heaven’s Band had seen this as an opportunity to convert Thoth through their capital, Marn. Their guild house had been converted into a temple, the ground floor being a place of worship and sermons, the upper levels being housing for their knights. They had even gotten permission from Tori to construct a small training camp just outside the walls.
Tori did not think much on these Holy Knights - he cared not for the beliefs of the people, only that they may practice what they so desire, as long as it did not harm others. He saw this only as a chance to build his cities guard. The knights wouldn’t patrol, like the guards, but they would often act to civil disputes and the occasional fight, taking the chance to convert the people. It had seemed to Tori that Heaven’s Band meant to control his empire through simple religious conversion, but he doubted that would do much. If anything, it would make him allies with the strongest military power in the land.



Tori entered the throne room and approached the large stone throne, purple silk draped over the middle. His steward, Thorin, stood by the throne, bowing his head as he approached.
“Mi’lord.”
Tori nodded at him. “Thorin. Any news to report?”
“Yes, mi’lord”
“Let me guess: Heaven’s Band and Mak Stowmi, again?”
“Yes, mi’lord, but it is not as usual.”
“What do you mean? Have they killed each other?”
“Yes, mi’lord. The Mak Stwomi raided the Holy Knights training camp and killed the initiates.”
“Gods…” Tori let his mouth drop a little, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised - they had hated each other since Tori allowed them in Marn. Heaven’s Band had once even petitioned to Tori to banish the Mak Stwomi from all of Thoth. They hadn’t threatened Tori, and for that he was glad, but it was a surprise to him, then, as they had no knowledge of each other until they entered Marn, but now Tori had almost expected this. He knew he would have to banish them, but he feared how they would react - they loved this area, and they would not take kindly to being banished from it. Nevertheless, this was inexcusable, and required immediate action, but Tori wasn’t sure it would be immediate. If the were not gone within a month, then Heaven’s Band would no doubt threaten them. They would threaten the Thoth empire, and go to war with the Mak Stwomi. They may just be a scattered group of men, but they would hunt them down.
“Mi’lord?”
“We cannot tolerate this…”
“What should we do, mi’lord?”
“Call a meeting with the War Council. Heaven’s Band is sure to act to this...hopefully the Paladins won’t come.”
“Paladins, mi’lord?”
“Yes, the highest rank of the Holy Knights - the peace keepers, the champions, the commanders and generals. If they come, there will be war - perhaps with us, perhaps with the Mak Stwomi.” Tori said, turning toward his chambers. “Either way, it’s bad.”
“But if they go to war with the Mak Stwomi, then we would be rid of them without their retaliation.”
Tori did not respond. He walked toward the left wall of the Throne Room and walked through an open doorway to his chambers.



“We must act!” Trager yelled, slamming his fist into the long table, shaking the goblets of wine which sat mostly untouched throughout the meeting. He was a large man, tall and burly, and it was a surprise his goblet didn’t fly from the table. “The time for negotiations has ended - now is the time for war!”
“The Holy Knights here are sure to act, but perhaps Heaven’s Band won’t...” said Tori, a bit worriedly.
“My Lord, as much as I may not want to agree with Trager, he is right.” said Arthas.
Trager glared at Arthas. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“You are a warmonger.”
“Oh, and you w-”
“Please,” said Tori, uncomfortably. “Let us be civil about this.”
Trager turned on Tori, pointing at him. “Do you really think there is any hope of ending this civilly? How are we to-”
“Shut your mouth, you brute! Your speaking to the king.” yelled Thorin.
“Please, everyone, calm down!” Tori yelled.
They all sat in silence for a while, Trager glaring around the table, Arthas looking saddened by the recent happenings.
“Now, we all know that something must be done, and it has gone too far for us to go back.” Tori said.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to say! The only option is to pick a side and fight!” Trager yelled, annoyed.
“And which side would you have us take?” Arthas asked, angrily.
“Oh, come on! You all know who to side with - the Mak Stwomi are-”
“We will not side with those brutes! I don’t ev-”
“SHUT UP AND LISTEN!” Trager screamed.
Silence.
“Why do you think they are both here?” Tori said. “They want this place and its territory, and the Mak Stwomi will stop at no means to get it. Heaven’s Band will have their revenge, and with both fighting over our city, we are now forced into the conflict.”
Trager nodded. “Yes, but now we must pick a side: The Mak Stwomi are brutal killers, but they are few and scattered, making it easy for them to attack us unexpectedly from almost anywhere; The Holy Knights, however, are hardened warriors, skilled in melee combat and tracking down their opponents. They are also the largest military force in the land, and should they see fit, all of Thoth could very well be destroyed.”
“Oh, hardly!” Thorin scoffed. “Thoth will not fall t-”
“Open your eyes! We have been walking a fine line between destruction and conversion for ages! We cannot stay out of this any longer - we must act!”
Tori let his head drop, studying his hands. No one said anything, but they knew what they had to do. “Then it has been decided,” Tori said, dully.
Everyone nodded in silence.
“We must act,” Tori said, looking around the table. “Arthas - take a band of soldiers and see to the guild. Trager - rally the remaining troops. Thorin - notify the guards...the time has come to defend our empire.”
Trager glared at the men, then, with purposeful indignity, slammed his hands upon the long table, shaking the dishes. He squeezed his goblet in his hand, then quickly brought it to his mouth and drank it quickly and roughly, letting much of it fall from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, dripping onto his robed chest. He finished his wine, then tossed the goblet back onto the table, bouncing and rattling across his clean, empty plate, then smashing into another goblet, spilling it and splashing its contents onto the uncut bird before rolling off the table and clattering against the stone floor, the other goblet falling after it.
Trager shoved himself from the table and stormed across the dining room toward the large wooden doors, slamming them shut upon his exit, sending ripples through the wine across the table and shaking the fallen goblets. Tori grimaced and turned his face from the door, angry yet saddened.
“Mi’lord? Are you okay?” Thorin asked, extending a concerned hand.
“Assemble the Palace Guards - I have use of them.”
“Mi’lord? Are you certain?”
Tori looked at him from the corner of his eye, then turned his gaze toward the fallen goblets, turned, and left the dining room, heading for his chambers, opening his robe outer cover-robe, and let it fall against the cold floor.



Arthas walked through the Rain District, a band of 12 soldiers following behind him. He wasn’t in his usual battle armor - a full plate suit of steel - but was dressed in lightweight studded leather, from head to toe. It was odd wearing this opposed to his full plate suit, and he felt extremely light, and he wasn’t comfortable with it. He wished he had put on his usual armor, but the Mak Stwomi were ferocious, that is true, but they were also quick. If he wore his full plate suit, his mobility would be hindered, and their speed would win him over.
He glanced over his shoulder at his band of soldiers. They were all dressed in their usual armor - chain mail with mostly leather armor, small plates of steel covering it in the most vital places, such as the torso, outside the arms, and front of the legs and top of the boots.
Arthas thought he was more well protected, as he wore chain mail under his studded leather, as the soldiers, but he also had steel studs about most of his body, while the soldiers only had small plates here and there.
All of them had a blade of some kind, Arthas wielding his usual reinforced, double-edged steel sword, which was a bit longer and lighter than the usual sword the soldiers had, which was surprising given its size and strength. Two of the soldiers wielded a strong, single-edged sword, with a very slight curve, but Arthas knew not what they were called - only that they were foreign weapons, which they only recently acquired through trade. They hadn’t wanted these swords at first, but after seeing their effectiveness through demonstration, they had leaped at the opportunity, and spent a week having some soldiers trained in wielding this sword by the very man who demonstrated their deadliness.
Six of the soldiers wielded the usual, simple, double-edged sword, which were plentiful and quick to make in times of war. The remaining four soldiers wielded a reinforced crossbow and a small, double-edged dagger.
Arthas continued to walk through the Rain District, heading for the Mak Stwomi guild house. He rounded a corner and saw three Holy Knights ahead of him: one a high ranking Angelic Knight (which were quite noticeable with their white full plate steel armor and their small, upward-bent wings), wielding a very large, two-handed sword; one a mid-ranged Grey Knight, wielding a simple sword and a shield depicting Heaven’s Band’s symbol; the last an initiate, wearing the same armor Arthas was wearing, wielding a simple sword and small, rounded shield with no depiction.
Arthas quickened his pace. “Hey, knights!” he yelled, coming to a halt. They stopped and looked at him. “What are you doing here? Your guild house is on the other end of the city!”
The Angelic Knight began to walk again, shooing Arthas. “Our business is our own.”
People began to stop and look at the confrontation, and wagon riders slowed their pace to watch.
Arthas began to walk toward them, again. “By order of the king, I order you to halt!”
The Angelic Knight turned to him. “You are no king.”
A voice came from down a street to their left. “No, but I am.”
Everyone turned to see the source, and the crowd grew larger. People gasped and began to bicker amongst themselves. Arthas turned his head and saw Tori, hand on his sword’s hilt, a band of six Palace Guards behind him, standing at attention with pikes facing upward, chain mail under a tunic bearing Thoth’s new symbol.
“Very well, then,” the Angelic Knight said. “What do you want?”
“As king of all of Thoth, I order you to report back to your guild house,” Tori said, his right hand still resting on his sword’s hilt. “I will have no more bloodshed in my city.”
“They have raided our training grounds, killed three of our initiates, and wounded our Warden - I will not let them go unpunished.”
“I assure you, they will be punished for their actions, but I will not have you creating more chaos in my city. If you are to start a war, do it in your own empire.”
Silence hung over them, and the crowd stared on in awe, making Tori tense, causing him to squeeze his hilt, firmly.
Finally, the lead knight waved his hand, and they began to walk back. He shoved his shoulder past Arthas, causing him to stumble, and he immediately reached for his sword, waiting for him to turn back before he drew it, but he never did, never even looked back.
The crowd began disperse, and the sounds of the city began to fill the streets, once again. Arthas loosened his grip and looked at Tori. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he approached.
“I came to ensure all went smoothly,” Tori said. “And obviously, it worked.”
Arthas lowered his head in shame. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Tori put his hand on his shoulder. “Worry not - they wouldn’t listen to anyone else, and if you weren’t here, I doubt it would have gone as well as it did.”
“Yeah…”
Tori took his arm from his shoulder. “Now, we must continue with our little errand.” - he stressed ‘errand’
“Yes, sir,” Arthas said, straightening. He waved to his troops and he took the lead, dispersing the rest of the crowd, Tori following behind.
A small family called to Tori, and he turned, waving at them. He saw a man hurrying up the street, looking a bit worried, the same direction they were headed. He approached Arthas and told him to quicken his pace. Arthas began to ask why, but Tori sped ahead of him before he could.
They rounded a corner and Tori saw the man hurry into a building. As he approached he saw it was the Mak Stwomi guild house, and he stopped 15 paces away, putting his hand up.
All the soldiers stopped behind him, and Arthas came to his side. “What’s wrong?”
“Back there a man saw us coming and ran up here. He just entered the guild house.”
Arthas didn’t respond, but by his face Tori could tell he knew what was to happen.
“How many do you think there are?” Tori asked.
“I don’t know. It’s a pretty big building, so there could be up to 20, or even 30 of them.”
“Hmm...what if we cleared the streets, then lured them out into archer fire?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll have to hide them well, otherwise they’ll just retreat back into the building.”
“Ah, but if we hid them in these buildings, they could hide in the windows, and once we get them all out we could block their path back into the house and slaughter them all.”
“And how do you suppose we do that? Just shove the people out of their own homes?”
“I don’t think they need to go anywhere - we’ll only be using it momentarily.”
“I’m not sure they would agree to that…”
“Then they can leave, but either way, we need this area.” Tori said, turning toward the men. “Send for Trager.”
One of Arthas’ men immediately turned and ran back to the center of the city, heading for the barracks.
Trager was there in five minutes. He had brought 12 crossbowmen and seven swordsmen. He sent the crossbowmen into the buildings across from the guildhouse, approaching from the alleyways as to avoid arousing suspicion. The swordsmen he sent into the building left of the guildhouse. Tori’s men were positioned around the entrance to the guild house, and Arthas’ men were to be sent in to lure them out. They didn’t hide the pikemen - the Mak Stwomi were bloodthirsty brutes, and they doubted more melee soldiers would stop them from pursuing the swordsmen.
They hadn’t bothered to clear the area - no one expected this to last long. The people were mad to stay in the far end of their homes, away from the areas the soldiers were in. They gave a bird call, signalling they were in position. Trager returned it, telling them to ready.
Tori nodded to Arthas, and he nodded back, waving his troops forward, into the guild house. He followed behind, sword ready in hand.
Tori stood with Trager behind the pikemen, waiting for the men to fill the streets.
Arthas entered the building. Many of the shutters were closed, keeping out much of the light, but there was enough to see where he was going. There wasn’t any sound, either, aside from their own footsteps. They entered into a hallway, which got increasingly dark due to the lack of windows. The men spread out, searching the rooms that stemmed from it. Arthas could make out a staircase at the end of the hall, and he approached it, not getting too close until all his men were ready. Almost immediately when he turned back he saw his men filling the halls, again. “We didn’t find anyone, my lord,” whispered Dagun, his lead swordsman. “Who shall lead us upstairs?”
“I will,” Arthas said, turning back toward the staircase. He held his sword in his right hand, but didn’t carry a shield - he worked best without one, preferring to use his sword for parrying his enemies blows, allowing him to quickly follow up.
“Send two swordsmen into each of these rooms,” Arthas said, signalling to the two rooms to his sides. “Keep the crossbowmen at the end of the hall with the two scimitars.”
“You mean the single-edged guys?”
“Yes, whatever it’s called - close enough to a scimitar.”
“Very well,” Dagun said, signalling to the men his orders.
Arthas began up the stairs, Dagun following immediately behind, the two extra soldiers following. It slowly began to brighten, and as Arthas rounded a corner he saw a few shaded figures, unmoving. He slowly approached, then heard a yell from one of the soldiers. Turning, he saw a great battleaxe buried in his back, a large, muscular man yanking it out.
He looked forward again and sidestepped just in time to avoid a large sword. He swung widely to the left, cutting into what felt like a man’s side, a loud cry coming from the shadows.
Another cry from behind, the clash of steel, the thump of falling bodies. Arthas thrusted his sword forward into the belly of another. “Retreat! Retreat!” he yelled.
Arthas began to pull back to the stairs, stumbling over the body of one of his soldiers. He got to the stairs and ran down, waiting for his men to catch up. Dagun shifted to the left, avoiding another blade, but stumbled on the stairs and fell in Arthas’ arms, who hoisted him back to his feet. The other soldier was cut deeply on his arm, and he fell backward, a loud crack coming from the thud of his fall, and he was unmoving. Arthas swung his sword at the large men’s feet, nearly cutting one off. The man yelled and fell forward onto Dagun’s sword, piercing through his chest, ripping the blade out of his hands.
More men barreled down the stairs, large blades and axes crashing into the walls and stairs of the guildhouse. Arthas held them off at the stairs while Dagun wrestled his sword from the man’s chest, spattering blood everywhere. He gave one final tug, and the sword pulled free, sending him stumbling backward into a side room. The soldiers there caught his fall, helping him back to his feet, and he immediately lunged back into the fight.
Arthas slowly fell backward until they reached the side rooms. “Duck!” he yelled as he fell to his knees, thrusting his sword into the gut of another brute. Dagun collapsed immediately and bolts flew forward into the chests of the brutes. Arthas rose again and continued to parry the blows of the brutes, falling backward. Once he reached the end of the first doorway he gave the order to fire again, ducking down, thrusting his sword forward, but this time he was parried. Even so, he fell backward, two crossbow bolts buried deeply in his chest.
Once the two brutes fell from the small volley, more men immediately replaced their place, stumbling over their bodies, swinging their heavy weapons. “Attack one!” Arthas yelled, and four blades were immediately buried into the sides of three brutes, Arthas and Dagun finishing them.
The brutes let out a battlecry, banding together, thrusting and swinging their large blades in a flurry of blood, almost immediately cutting down two of the four men in the opposite rooms, and wounding Dagun, who Arthas yelled to get outside.
“Duck!” Arthas yelled again, crouching down, barely blocking a blow from above. As he heard the release of the crossbows, he saw a large boot of one of the brutes kick upward with great speed and force. He tried to maneuver his head out of its path, but was too late, and it collided with his upper right cheek, spreading a fine mist of blood across his face, breaking his nose with a loud crack.
As the brutes fell, he rose, attempting to parry the many blows of the brutes. He soon realized he couldn’t see out of his right eye, and could feel immense pain with each pump of his heart. It felt as if his face was in a fire, and the swelling was already starting.
“Pull back! Retreat!” Arthas yelled, stumbling backward.
The crossbow men stopped reloading and immediately turned out the door, the two single-edged men waiting just outside the door for Arthas. As he approached the doorway he thought he heard the dying cries of his men behind the loud bellowing of the brutes.
He stumbled out the door, shuffling past the pikemen and out of the crossbowmen's aim. He shimmied past two of the pikemen, falling to the ground in front of Tori.
Tori was horrified - he was not a warrior, and he knew that, but he wanted to come and witness this confrontation. He had hoped there wouldn’t be too much violence, and he had readied himself for bloody battle, but it wasn’t enough.
Dagun smirked at Tori. “You underestimated battle, eh? You’re never ready for it, not even after 12 years of service. You never get used to it.”
Tori tried to keep himself from shaking - he tried to to look strong, but it was too much for him. He collapsed to the ground, conscience, yet unable to move. He was terror struck, and he tried as hard as he could to break out of it.
Arthas put a weak hand on Tori’s leg. “It consumes you.” he said simply.
The brutes began to spill out of the guild house, and the pikemen kept their weapons pointed at them. As the brutes raised their weapons, the pikemen lunged, stabbing them wherever was open. One of them stabbed upward through a brutes neck, sending blood spattering on his fellow soldiers behind him. This had clearly broke the moral of one of them, causing him to stare on in shock and terror. Most of the others didn’t pay any mind to it, however, and kept up their onslaught.
Soon, the entire circle of pikemen had been filled with brutes, and Arthas raised himself to his knees, staring into Tori’s eyes. “Give the word, sire - we’ve almost won. Just give the word.”
Tori barely heard Arthas, still frozen in fear. He was thinking about the blood Arthas has thrown on him, and the screams of dying men. He couldn’t take his mind off it, but suddenly he thought of Arthas’ valor and bravery. He looked toward the battle and saw Trager, sword in hand, fending off three brutes at once. He dodged each blow, and followed it up with a strike of his own. He was clearly exhausted, sweat dripping from his face and flying off his arms. He was covered in blood, and the movements he made were quick but rough and choppy, a clear sign of fatigue, but still he fought on.
Arthas bent closer to Tori. “Sire, you must give the order. they are all out in the open, now. Give the order before they break through our lines.”
Tori looked back up at Arthas with sad, dedicated eyes. He focused on his swollen, bloody cheek and broken nose. He tried to mumble something, but it came out as a moan.
“What?” Arthas asked, leaning in ever closer.
“Uh..give...fire…” Tori mumbled.
“Tell the men.”
“Fire.” He said at just above a whisper.
“Louder, sire!”
“Fire!” It exploded from Tori, as if all him might had bursted through his cloak of terror and sorrow.
Arthas smiled and patted him on the shoulder. Bolts flew from the window, cutting through the air with a hiss. Crossbows released their strings, vibrating with an almost harmonious sound. The screams of men seemed to form a choir, and the clashing of weapons and hiss of bolts filled the background.
The brutes began to quickly fall, and the two single-edged men blocked the way back into the guild house, as Trager pursued the ones hiding inside.
Arthas forced himself to his feet, scrunching his face with sore pain. He then offered Tori his hand, and he took it, trembling. Arthas pulled him to his feet, then patted the dirt off of his royal uniform. “You know, you should have worn some kind of armor, or at least cheap clothing instead of that nice robe.”
Tori tried to laugh, but all he could manage was a smirk. He looked back to the battle, which was filled mostly with dead men covered in blood and dirt. He began to walk toward the bodies, and Arthas put out his arm. “Whoa, wait a minute. Where are you going?”
“If I am to be king, then I must know the terrors of war and death, lest I underestimate them.”
“You’re talking awfully bold for someone who just collapsed! Now come,” Arthas said, signaling toward Dagun, who still in the back as men attended to his wounds, mainly in his shoulder. “let us go back and rest.”
“I’ve been resting the entire battle!” Tori exploded. He was suddenly and unexplainably angry. “I must see the terror I’ve caused!”
Arthas took a step back, surprised at the outburst. “Very well,” he submitted, head down. “But I shall accompany you.”
Tori turned and walked off toward the guildhouse as soldiers already began to clean the area, piling the dead. He walked past them, stepping over the large, brutish figures. He approached the guildhouse as the single-edged men slayed the last of the brutes outside. Tori brushed past them as the men looked at each other curiously. Arthas stepped by them, giving them an almost apologetic look.
Tori continued on through the blood soaked halls. Already it reeked of death, and bodies littered the hallway. He heard fighting upstairs, and he rushed toward the stairs as Arthas called to him. He paid no mind to him and continued up the stairs, rounding a corner. By the shuttered window he saw Trager standing over a brute, sword pointed at his neck.
“Halt what you’re doing!” Tori yelled.
Trager looked toward Tori, surprised.
“You heard me - got off of him.”
Trager looked at the brute, then back at Tori. He withdrew his sword and stepped back. Tori approached him, then drew his own sword. He wielded it sloppily, and fumbled with it while he took it from its sheath. Trager and Arthas were still, looking from Tori to each other, surprised, almost awestruck.
Tori stepped over the brute, holding the sword in both of his hands, blade pointed down. He raised it above his head, pointed at the brute’s neck. Arthas stared on, then noticed the brute he gotten his hand on the dead soldier’s sword. He drew his sword, yelling, rushing toward the brute, but he was too late. Tori’s hand was cut clean off, his neck deeply slit, blood spilling from both his wounds as he coughed up blood. He collapsed to the side of the brute as he shuffled to his feet. Trager was in shock, watching as his king fell to the ground. The brute got to his feet, turning toward Arthas, attempting to block it, but he was too fast. He swung his sword hard and wide, cutting the brutes head off at the top of the neck.
Trager stepped toward his dead king. Blood continued to pool around him, and Arthas was seething. He began to stab the brute’s body repeatedly, but Trager didn’t try to stop him - he understood the feeling.
Three minutes later, after Arthas had stopped massacring the body, he fell to his knees in front of Tori, cradling his head in his arms. Trager sat on his knees next to him, and Arthas began to weep. Trager tried to stay strong, then Arthas embraced him. Having Arthas weep on his shoulder almost made him break down, but he managed to keep it back.
Trager lightly pushed Arthas from him, turning toward Tori. He cradled his body in his arms, then rose, carrying his body out of the building to the unwary soldiers.