Thread: Claim (Closed for Methos and FK)

A king and his power like all things deteriorated with time. For the king grew old. No longer did he stand in the shield wall, or don his armour and his sword and lead the men to victories as the once did. He did not give them the arm rings that spoke of their heroics or honour as they desired, nor fill their pockets with plunder as they craved. Many felt a fondness for the aging man and yet they were not content. Who fought the kings battles? His bastard son mostly. A wiser man would like as not have made him heir whatever side of the sheets he had been born on. For as one man waned the other waxed with each battle and raid. Yet Brand had been scorned and the throne was to be passed to King Olafs daughter Annalea and the generally useless braggart that she had married. Very few outside of seemingly father, daughter and son-in-law seemed terribly pleased by this particular arrangement. Olaf was too old. Alfred, the son in law who would be king, was deemed a coward whom was ruled over by his wife. A man easily held in contempt by all of his peers. That left the war bands restless and agitated, very little had been needed to set off full blown rebellion. Then the King, naturally at his daughters prompting, had banished his bastard son. Dutifully the guards had tossed him from the castle yet after doing so, many had simply deserted their posts and dashed to catch up with him. The bastard prince was not so easily disposed of. The warrior had grabbed shield, sword and spear as the word of his fate had travelled. There was no need for him to ask it of them, they came on their own and soon hailed him king. Very little formality had followed. The gathered men had moved from the woods where they had assembled and marched upon the castle itself. The castle guards whom had left, first approached the gates and called out to their former colleagues that they were returning from the tavern in the town and to let them in. Hardly an unusual occurrence so the castles gates were throne open. Perhaps to the dismay of the guards within their fellows drew swords and attacked them straight away only to be followed by the warriors that had tarried just out of site. The hard dark eyes of the man whom had inspired this civil war looked upon what transpired about him. His helmet was pulled down snugly over his rugged features, although locks of long black hair trailed down to his shoulders. His tall form moved nimbly through the courtyard with his sword in one hand and shield in the other. His was a tall and powerful frame. He stood a good six feet and three inches in height, and a broad span at the shoulder coupled with a muscular built had made him a rather impressive warrior. Immediately he found where the guards whom had stayed loyal to the king were organizing some manner of resistance. With a yell of To me! He gathered a group of his own warriors and smashed into the guards with reckless abandon. His shield crashed against them and soon his sword probed past their line of shields and found flesh. The dark haired warrior leaned into his opponent, letting his weight push him back onto his heels. Then his sword was stabbed forward hard and low to slice into the other mans gullet. As the body crumbled her turned to the nearest adversary and his numbers began to overwhelm those that resisted. As more men died, the guards within the courtyard simply began to surrender for few thought their much honour in dying for those they gave not a wit. The castles doors were then thrown open and the warriors began to fan out inside it. Bring them too me. He ordered and there was no question as to whom he meant. Warriors by the dozen spread out through the castle seizing first the king from his bed. Then Alfred from his supper, and finally after the resistance of her guards a dozen warriors stormed into the princess bedroom. Undoubtedly it was a confusing sight for the princess. Her soldiers had just killed her guards, and now they stood before her rather hostilely with blood splattered upon their weapons and hate in their eyes. The warriors would draw closer to her and spear point were extended to her as she was rather curtly told Youll come with us or well kill you. The warriors smirked as they noted The King wants to see you. Although their gloating tone seemed to suggest that King was not her father. Indeed they were rather insistent that the blonde woman drop her dagger and then surrounded by spear points she was escorted to the throne room. There shed find her father and husband, similarly under guard. Perhaps unnervingly sitting upon the throne and smiling like a Cheshire cat was her half brother. The crown from her fathers head now rested rather easily upon his brow. He looked at his half sister and simply smirked. What a difference a few hours makes eh?