A Song of Fire and Water

"A Song of Fire and Water" is a Season 5 thread written on April 6, 2015. 
== Summary ==
== Full Text ==
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: The devastation that was caused by Hel’s sweeping tail was ridiculous. The grounded had folded over itself like paper and sent multiple people reeling, including Haddock and his bodyguard. Spitting dirt, Stonegit pushed away the mound of earth pinning down his legs, and then looked over at a Haddock, who was stuck under a small tree. Thankfully the end of the log was propped up, so it was easy for the King to wriggle himself out. Stonegit ducked his head, tromping over, relieved that his charge was unharmed. He grabbed his dirty wrist, helping him up. He looked up at the two fighting gods, shaking his head. “They’re too close,” he breathed. “We have to pull back. All of us, or we’ll be crushed!” 
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock shook his head. “There’s not enough time for everyone to pull back safely.” And this his eyes steeled. He slowly straightened himself, staring straight at where Hel and her adversary had disappeared.
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: “Then we have to move!” Stonegit said, turning around and yelling at the top of his lungs. “Fall back! Get away from the gods! Pull back to retaliate! Just get away from those giants!” he faced Haddock again as Snag run up to the two of them. He grabbed his shoulder and helped him on to Snag’s back. “We’re not running away,” he assured him. “We’re just making a tactical withdraw, hiya Snag!” 
The Changwing hissed and flew into the air with the two of them.
“Hold on!” Stonegit called to Haddock. 
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock was more than a little frustrated at Stonegit for the rush onto the dragon’s back. “Fly the dragon around. I’m not making a ‘tactical withdrawal, Stonegit!” He didi not seem to notice Stonegit’s shout to ‘hold on’. 
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: “Like Hel you are!” Stonegit barked back. “One side step from Hel or Odin and we’re dead! And I’m sorry Haddock but enough people have tried to kill you today for me to bother being polite! I have to do my jo-!” 
There was a violent jolt as a chunk of the ground was flung through the air, hitting Snag in the side and sending her faltering. Stonegit cried out as his dragon tumbled to the earth, pitching him and Haddock off into the snow harshly.  
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock groaned, pulling himself up slowly. His arm was in great pain from earlier fighting injuries, and the crash had helped none. He still used it to push himself to his feet. Running over to Stonegit, he shouted, “Stonegit! Are you alright?”  
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: “Winded…” Stonegit whizzed, allowing himself to be helped up. He grinned  when he saw Snag was ok, and in the process of shaking herself off. He blinked. “Haddock…” he said, swallowing. Three Valhallan soldiers were approaching them rapidly. Stonegit gripped his ax, glancing up at his King, he suddenly felt a feeling of perfect solidarity. There would be no protecting him this time…but just two men, fighting beside one another.    
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock nodded, stepping up aside Stonegit, their minds as one. His sword spun, and he began to dance, spinning adroitly to confront the first Valhallan man. Blade whisked through, sweeping and twisting, each movement meaningful, precise, but also dancing to a rhythm, an elegance.  
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: Stonegit by contract let out a yell, swinging his ax in ruthless precision. He blocked a downward stroke from a soldier, parrying off to the side and shoving him back, swinging his weapon in a powerful long swipe.  
Stonegit and Haddock got back to back, beating off their foes, each in their own unique style. At one point, Haddock’s blade spun into the air and Stonegit tossed his ax to Haddock so he could block a side slash, ducked past his opponent’s attack, caught the blade and tossed it back to his King, his own ax landing back in his hands in return.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Then Haddock, with his sword back in hand, swept low, gliding along with the moment the blade was already steering. It cut straight into the soldier’s thigh, and he began falling. Blade spun, pierced chest, in, out, and Haddock stepped immediately back to ram the hilt back of his jerking sword into the other Valhallan soldier’s gut. As the man hunched down with a shout, Stonegit came in.
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: With an upwards swing Stonegit cut the man from the tip of his chin up through his head. He heaved a sigh when he fell, giving Haddock an appreciative look. “Well…at this rate we may just make it.” he said, and then his eyes widened.
They heard the crack of thunder, and then Hel, literally, went flying over their heads, crashing and rolling out of sight. With a feeling of dread sinking into the two men’s stomachs, they saw as Odin turned, beginning to make his way towards the area were the others rebels were pulling away, rapidly closing the distance between the two.
Stonegit saw Haddock take a step forward and he hurried after him, grabbing the back of his shirt. “What are you doing?” he asked. 
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock, indignant, continued stepping forward. “I am not backing down now. We need to stop that - THING - from reaching the rebels! I can buy them a few minutes if I give that thing someone to hunt.” 
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: Stonegit’s hand slid away from his shirt, grabbing his hand instead. “Then I will double that time…” he said, giving him a grin.   
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock nodded in return, giving something halfway resembling a responding grin. Then with a belligerent shout Haddock ran straight to Odin, blade in hand, waving it to the skies with the full intent of being spotted. “COME AT ME YOU MALFORMED FREAK!"
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: “OhO NO YOU DON’T!” Stonegit called, running off to the side. “COME AFTER ME!” 
Odin blinked. Well this was odd, humans didn’t normally call to him personally. He turned to face them. What was all this? He was about to step on Hel’s army and considered himself rather busy. Why were these numskulls yelling at him?
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: “YOU HEARD ME? YOU ENTER RAGNAROK AND HAVE ALL THE HUMANS FIGHTING? WELL COME FIGHT THEN YOURSELF AND GET YOUR OWN PAWS DIRTY!” Haddock continued his charge.
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: Stonegit saw Odin’s eyes turn on Haddock, and he panicked. Extending his hand, he warmed up a fire blast in his palm. Without the Warden, doing this would take away precious energy, but it would be worth it, if…it made a difference.
Haddock’s shout was interrupted as a fire ball whizzed by his head, going up and hitting Odin in his good eye. 
The god hissed as he felt the burn, and blinked a few time. Aaaaand that was enough for him. Barking a quick roar, Odin lifted a foot and slammed it into the ground, sending a wave of earth and rubble their way. 
Stonegit gasped, seeing that the god intended to get them both aside at once. At least by now the other rebels had recuperated. His head snapped to the side. “Haddock…” he breathed, and then quickly began trying to close the gap between them as the attack rushed towards them from across the plain. 
His breathing became heavy as he ran towards his King, and he threw off what little armor he had in an attempt to lighten himself, so that he could speed up. “Haddock!” he called.  
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: “JUST GO!” the king shouted, rushing as much as he could himself, wasting no more energy to shout out any other words.  
Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: “Sir!” Stonegit called, looking fearfully at the oncoming wall. He pushed himself as hard as he could, surging forward and then tackling Haddock to the ground, curling over him so that his body served as a shield.  
A second later, the wave of earth smacked into them, sending them reeling.
In the chaos, Stonegit gripped his fingers around Haddock tightly, but then the swirling force pulled him away, and tossed him away like a rag doll.
The dust settled…. 
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock could feel his body tremble from the adrenaline, shaking against the ground, making the very ground itself shake alongside him. That was all he felt, all he knew, for a moment… the dust burned in his tight-squeezed eyes, and he coughed, unable to see or hear or think anything. 
But when the dirt settled and Haddock could finally blink, he rose his eyes, sought out Stonegit. Where was he? Collapsed tree roots and debris scattered across the landscape tumbled all around him, but where was…
…he saw a form, a form lying still, there on the ground out of reach.
He saw a pair of boots standing right beside it.
Haddock’s eyes rose. Took in the clothing. The hands. The face. 
Good gods above…
Above Stonegit’s unmoving form was a weather faced old man, eyes locking into his.
Haddock felt his heart pound once, a heavy drum, as shock and recognition bowled into him. 
Orskaf.
Orskaf Donz: The man was as dirty and blood stained as the King himself. In one hand he held his saber, in the other his helmet, which he held by the horn. It had a split in it, rendering it useless. His armor was chinked as his eyes were tired, but underneath them, there was an underlying, burning passion. Never was there a time when two men like this looked at one another with such unparalleled hatred.
There was a cold moment of silence.
Today was different.
Today…someone could die.
His hand allowed the helmet to slip away, the object seemingly falling in slow motion, Orskaf never breaking eye contact with Haddock. 
The hard, cast iron metal dropped, striking Stonegit’s fallen form in the dented part of his head, the body of the boy jerking slightly in reaction to the pain. 
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock knew he should have felt a chill at the sight of Orskaf. He knew he should have felt fear. Should have felt so much more than the determined coldness that coursed through him. He had had no intentions of fighting Orskaf before now or finding this man on the battlefield. 
But now, now he knew he could not turn aside.
This man had done so much against his people. The Rebellion. Those he cared about. Himself.
And so he pulled out his sword, metal rasping. “How about you try to harm someone still conscious?” he threatened, and began stepping forward to confront carefully but with no fear. What happened would happen, but the future concerned him not. His duty now was to fight.
Orskaf Donz: Orskaf shifted one foot behind himself to ground his stance. He looked down at Stonegit, and then back up at Haddock. His metal clad boot came back, and then swung sharply into the side of Stonegit’s head, his face unflinching. 
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: That was enough to enrage Haddock. He rushed.
Orskaf Donz: Immediately Orskaf’s face changed, his mouth fell open in a yell of rage and he surged forward as well. His saber swung from his side, and bashed into Haddock’s blade. Almost right away Orskaf had to back up, slashing sideways twice to parry Haddock’s attacks. His shoulder came up, delivering a brief, harsh over hand blow.
Their swords locked, and the world seemed to spin around Orskaf as he struggled with his opponent. The slave king was skilled that was for sure. But he would not outdo him. 
Orskaf’s saber was jerked to the side, and he quickly swung it back, jarring both his and Haddock’s arm with the force of the attack. 
Well…Orskaf hoped he would not be outdone. 
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock fell out of the elegance of his other fights. To his internal astonishment, one he hid well behind his enraged face, Orskaf was far superior a sword fighter than any else he had yet faced in battle. Instead, he fell to brute blows, strong and precise, each trying to quickly, efficiently, harshly knock down his opponent immediately. 
His arm rattled at the power of Orskaf’s attack, but he quickly bit back with his own offensive strike.
Orskaf Donz: The light rain falling from the sky was not the only reason Orskaf found his face moist, and dripping. Heat was trapped in his armor, and sweat poured from his face, streaking the dirt on his skin. He paced in a circle around Haddock, his foot stepping into the shallow waters of a small forest river.
Yelling again, he swung his blade, mustering as much strength as he could manage into the attack. The clang of metal was deafening as the blades scrapped against one another. The blades locked and pushed themselves to the side, and Orskaf stepped forward, hitting Haddock with a shoulder check to get him some room. He backed up a pace, panting heavily, and then stepped in again, stabbing at Haddock rapidly before twirling the saber around in vicious circular cuts, even though the movement drained his energy.
Mud stuck in between his armor, the chilling rain and sweat caused his undershirt to stick to his back, his mouth was dry and hair dirty from the earth and blood that had been flung into it. But the man in front of Orskaf was the man who held responsibility for his son’s death, so Orskaf pursued him for his head.    
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock found himself backing up, feet squelching in the mud. It was all he could do to get his arm up in time to block the attack, and with every blow, he could feel himself tiring even more. In a great hope to get through Orskaf’s defenses he took a daring lunge at the man’s side, hoping he would break skin before Orskaf could take an opportunity at the defense gap Haddock opened.    
Orskaf Donz: There was a quick set of two clangs as Orskaf smacked at the incoming blade with his, stepping forward, and then stumbling. As he and Haddock passed one another, Orskaf felt his opponent’s blade touch on the side of his rib cage, and then jerked violently across it as he moved away from Haddock.    
He gasped.
The two men stood still for a moment, and Orskaf slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder, meeting Haddock’s gaze once again. “Haddock…” he breathed.
Eyes wide, Orskaf shuffled his feet so he turned around, pulling his shaking had slowly away from his upper side. His breath caught slightly, his voice hitching as he looked down at the stream of crimson that was slowly seeping through the cracks of his armored gloves. “I’m bleeding…” he whimpered, his voice soft, and old. 
He sniffed, coughing once, and then shook his head. Growling with anger he stumbled back over towards Haddock, yelling as he swung his saber again, but cried out as his side throbbed, and the stumbled off to the side. 
He regained his composure as best he could, and then quick as lighting jabbed at Haddock with a rapid thrust.   
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock blocked quick, barely raising his blade in time. To his surprise he could find no more defensive maneuvers; Orskaf, though injured, was still incredibly tough to fight. He could see the man’s body contort slightly in pain of the blow; he could hear the man cry out; yet he could not land another blow. He parried after a stream of quick, short attacks, nearly tripping on the root of a tree at one point.   
He found his opening. Turned back to offensive. Block. Attempt again, seeking to make Orskaf work the muscles around the injury more, feel the fullness of the pain. The man should tire quicker now. Haddock could do this.
Just… no… mistakes.
Ringing blades. Slapping rain on his cheeks. Sweat, blood, boiling hate. Stream of blows. Panting.
I’m wearing down too.
He needed to make another strike and fast.
Orskaf Donz: They both swung at the same time, and things seemed to stop for a second. The blades came together, Orskaf’s blade had fought against a rebels mace early that day, and Orskaf had not blocked properly. Now, as Haddock’s blade came to his, Orskaf put too much brunt force into it, Haddock’s blade found the nitch, and was swung with more expertise. Orskaf’s blade fracture, snapping it in half and sending it flying out of his hand.
Instantly Orskaf reeled back to dodge Haddock’s follow up attack, and bent down, grabbing up a stone, pulling it back, but then paused. He stared at Haddock something not adding up in his mind. The King was looking at him, there was something in his eyes Orskaf could not comprehend. What could it be? As the two men stood in the center of the river, Orskaf slowly lowered the stone. 
He looked away from Haddock. “You didn’t kill my son Haddock…” he muttered, tossing the stone off to the side. “And my grandson is still alive.” he drew a long breath, his breathing shallow. “My quarrel with you…is done…we would be wise to…see the rest of this battle separate.”        
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock huffed for a moment, watching the stone fall. It would be easy to attack Orskaf now while he was defenseless, but he found himself instead responding to the man. He could not, would not, kill a man like Orskaf when he did not have a weapon pulled out. Not when the man reminded him so much of himself.
“In another time, perhaps,” the king said, keeping his blade bared but not advancing. He stared evenly into Orskaf’s eyes. 
He took a step forward, water sloshing. “Yet this is Ragnarok, and our people are at war against each other. I want my people, every one of them, to survive as best they can. You I would imagine desire the same. But one of the greatest barriers I have seen to protecting my people is that you stand against us.
“For I would not go so far to say my quarrel is done with you. Not after your treatment of my people. My bodyguard. The witch hunter. Even the elf. The longer I let you aside, the more my people could suffer. I may not have the power to save everyone from the forces of the gods - I know that full-well from the mistakes I have made in the past.
“But I am determined to protect them as much as I can. Protect them against you. And for that reason, no. I will do nothing but fight you right here, right now, at this time.”
Orskaf Donz: Orskaf’s head jerked up, fury flooding into his eyes.
And he lost it.
 “You would murdered an unarmed old man!?” he hollered, thrusting a fist off to the side in an uncontrolled display of anger. He clenched his teeth and fist, his jaw shaking. “You’re no better than that ruthless, defiled, boy slave you have a collar on!” he staggered a few paces away from Haddock, his eyes slowly calming. He began circling him, raising a finger. 
“I….I know men like you…I’v seen your kind…I saw that look when I first met you.” Orskaf raised his chin. “Oooh…Stonegit…” he breathed. “Young…naive, plenty of places and things for a frustrated King to do and experience. Oh I bet he was firm and yet soft in all the right places, a perfect tie over till your wife could get back.” he spat, leering at him. “Tell me…and be honest…was what I had my men do to that bitch really any worse than the nightmares he saw every time you ordered him to your bedchamber?”    
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: “The only nightmare he has is from you!” Haddock shouted, and did exactly what Orskaf derided him for: attack an unarmed old man with the intent to kill.    
Orskaf Donz: Orskaf’s foot stepped back, and then spun him on the outside of Haddock’s attack. He grabbed his sword handle with one hand, and gripped his elbow with the other. Stepping forward, Orskaf jammed the hilt of Haddock’s sword into his chest harshly, right on his old injury from Stonegit’s blast, and jolting his heart. 
A loud ringing filled Haddock’s ears as the attack on the old injuries summoned painful flashback. 
Orskaf jerked his arms back and forth, jamming the hilt of the sword into him over and over again, the metal cracking against his chest bone. He flung Haddock’s weapon away and brought up his fist, smacking it into Haddock’s slave mark. Once, twice, three times the sharp metal glove slammed into the cooled brand. 
The two men fell into the river, both of them struggling with one another. Orskaf panted and gasped as he tried wrestling Haddock down, his hand shot over, grabbing for something, anything to use against him. His finger tips bushed up against the broken tree root as Haddock resisted him. Orskaf gritted his teeth, straining to get a hold of it. 
His knee shot forward striking Haddock in the thigh, giving him enough moment to grab a hold of the root. 
Orskaf fell forward
Haddock pushed him back with his foot.
Feeling the last of his strength leaving him, Orskaf let out one last desperate cry, and shoved the sharp ended stick down, puncturing and pushing it into Haddock’s bad leg, right on top of his previous scar.      
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock stumbled, gasping from both the pain of the blows and the shock of where they hit. His heart. Near-death from Frosti’s assassination attempt. He found himself clutching, clutching the chest, feeling cold again. Cold… he was in the river… the water cold… he was feeling frozen again… cold. And his leg was burning, the wound stabbed anew. He felt the leg give way… Where was his sword? Wait… gone. He gasped. 
This short instance in time… his pause, his shock - it would be enough for Orskaf to kill him now.      
Orskaf Donz: Orskaf watched as Haddock fell back, the King’s eyes glazing over as his muscles spasmed. Orskaf lowered his head, letting out a small dry sob or relief. He lifted his head, inhaling deeply to calm himself. He bent over, grabbing Haddock’s shirt and hauling him to the bank of the river, dumping him. He stepped a few paces back, and his eyebrows drew together. He looked down at the man and slowly shook his head. “Who….are you?” he whispered. He carefully sat down on a stone protruding from the waters level. “You know don’t you boy?…So why don’t you tell me?” he licked his lips, coming to a decision. “I’m going to let you get up ok boy?” Orskaf muttered. “My quarrel is done with you…”
Orskad sat there for a minute or two, his face growing paler as the seconds went by, and then he a creak of wood, and the sound of flapping wing, and a series of shadows became to creep over the white snow that layered the ground. The old man frown, slowly standing to his feet and turning in a circle. The sounds got louder, and as the shapes became to become seen, Orskaf lifted his eyes to the sky, and could not help his mouth from falling open.
It…was…ships!
Dozens upon dozens of dragon’s flew high above, all tethered to the long warships bellow them. Now less than six, well crafted sea ships were floating in the sky, supported by dragons, and as they entered the battlefield, arrows and harpoons began to fly out of the sides, striking down Valhallan soldiers in a volley of projectiles.
The tethers were cut and the boats dropped to the ground, sailing over Orskaf’s head and landing with a crash. As they were still skidding across the snow, Port Krum’s finest warriors leapt from the sides with a tremendous battle cry, and began to attack Odin’s forces. They lined up and surged forward with power spear charges, and among the chaos, a single figure jumped from the stern of one of the leading ships.
His thick pale hair was long and coarse…
His nose long and skin olive…
War hammer firmly grasped in his hand, Blunt Donz landed on both his feet and looked up to face the open battlefield.
He turned his head, and he and his grandfather’s eyes met. He gave him a smug smirk, which broke into a toothy grin, and then, motioning with his hammer, Blunt ran into the fray.
Orskaf starred after him in shock, his body leaning forward, and then he stopped, inhaled sharply as he felt the gaze on the back of his head, and turned around quickly.          
Gareth Haddock…was standing up.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: There was a stoop to his posture, but he seemed somehow proud nonetheless. Even as he hunched over his injuries and struggled mentally to cope with the flashback, he had a certainty about him. A certainty. His eyes bore right into Orskaf, a clear intent shown within his hazel-brown irises.
Down at his side, tucked aside in hopes Orskaf could not see it, was a small knife. The one Stonegit had given him once as a token.
Orskaf Donz: Orskaf’s eyes glanced down, seeing the weapon, and he took a step forward. He gasped again as his stomach turned as a fresh sweat broke out over his brow. He gripped at his injury, seeing how badly he had been cut.
And then suddenly realization dawned on Orskaf and his eyes widened. Moisture coming to his eyes and lips moving in almost a stammering motion, his eyes darted once more to his side, then to the knife, and then met Haddock’s.
He gave a short half cry that caught in his throat, and then turned, fleeing up the river. Pain flared in his side and his retreat was clumsy. But he needed to run, he had to run, if he didn’t he would…  
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock rushed forward, charging at full speed. No! He would not let Orskaf run away! He bowled forward, grabbing the man and tackling him to the ground, trying to yank the man’s hands behind him, trying to prepare the knife, readying to stab him. It was a horrid scramble of limbs. Orskaf was kicking at him and Haddock wrestling back.    
Orskaf Donz: “No! NO!” Orskaf screeched horsey, pushing away at Haddock’s arms and trying to pull away. But he felt the man’s legs on either side of his torso and he reached up, grabbing Haddock’s wrists, starring fearfully at the point of the knife which was getting all too close to him.
A tear ran down his face as he gritted his teeth. “Noooooooo!” he said, the word turning into a yell as he pushed against him, his feet kicking.
He tossed his head back and forth, craning his head head back as if he could will himself away from that awful knife. Orskaf felt his strength failing him, and he face Haddock. Gritting his teeth with anger, he leaned his head up, his mouth opening with another long, enraged yell of desperation and hatred.    
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock’s knife hand plunged.    
As Orskaf jerked and screamed, Haddock’s knife plunged into his mouth and out the side of the jaw; he dragged downward, cutting along the neck. It dug deeper as it trailed into the collar bone. It came all at once, a long cut made in the jerk of one quick motion, a movement most surely lethal.
Orskaf Donz: A bellow of pain and anger ripped from Orskaf’s lungs, blood spurting from the slice in his neck due to the airflow, flex of the blood peppering Haddock’s face. The screamed died away, leaving Orskaf gasping and choking. His hand grabbing Haddock’s wrist, pulling him closer, his eyes flickering in a blind panic.
“Ikm sorkghy!”  
He choked, his voice growing more desperate by the second.  
“Img sorgree!”
“Tell the boykgh…I’m sorry!”
He shook his head at the last words, his eyes searching Haddock’s face as two tears streamed from either eye. His mouth opened wide, his jaw hanging oddly as his raspy calls became intelligible as he continued to pull Haddock closer and closer towards his face, a face that was quickly being overtaken by death.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock, haunted, shocked, freaking out as Orskaf dragged him toward him, threw the knife forward again. He dug in even more deeply this time, the adrenaline and shock forcing his blade at the inner elbow, cutting through, cutting the arm off as Orskaf pulled him forward. He said nothing, but jerked away as soon as the arm was destroyed, eyes wide, chest heaving.
Orskaf Donz: Orskaf’s last breath caught at the pain, and then his head dropped straight back, stiff necked, into the shallow river bed. A stream of red interrupted the rest of the grey water as blood flowed from his severed arm. His mouth was stretched open and his eyes were wide, and dead. Orskaf lay un-moving as the water slowly lapped at his hair.   
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock staggered backwards, leaving the man dead. He felt more than a little numbed. Now that he was no longer fighting, fatigue rushed through his body, and every blow that Orskaf had landed came back to smart at him full force.
He limped back on his pained leg, clutching his teeth to prevent from crying out. Good Hel, I’ll have to be back on crutches for this.
 But there would be no respite yet. As he stepped through the trees, hoping to make his way back toward Stonegit, he saw another person.
Nalaagura Ep'ha: There was a soft thump of earth as the Warden’s knees hit the ground. The carnage of the battle had been horrific. Hours earlier she had felt an awful wrenching within her, as though something dear had been lost, and she’d spent the rest of the day making her way around to each rebel, ensuring their safety. Every single rebel.
Except one.
And now she knew why she had been unable to find him. He had stayed beside his king. And…now…
The porcelain demon seemed to stay frozen for an eternity, years upon years of sitting and staring at the boy’s battered, broken form. Instead of reaching out to him, she sealed her consciousness deep behind walls that no one would be able to reach, so she did not have to feel the dark emptiness that surely lay within his head. Her quivering, jointed fingers reached out, ligaments clicking and shaking, but she was unable to place her hand on Stonegit’s forehead. And her face remained as white and expressionless as ever. But the violet that had once colored her hair began to heat and turn a violent scarlet at the tips. Her head slowly, slowly tilted upwards until she was staring at the wounded king, fingers slowly curling into her fist and hand drawn to her chest.
What…have…you…done.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock trembled in anger at the sight of the Warden. Now, of all times?
“What do you mean what have I done, you demon filth? Get away from him and get away from me! Do we need to face off like we did all that time ago when I first left the dungeon? Let. us. all. alone. Him first and foremost.”
WHAT…HAVE…YOU…DONE!?
There was a blast of pure force, a push of invisible energy, and Haddock stumbled backwards as Nalaagura rose to her feet, gaze burning. The red creeped through her faster, faster, flushing through her hair and starting to course through her veins as a dim scarlet pulse.
YOU LED HIM HERE. YOU LED HIM HERE ON SOME HALF-WITTED ADVENTURE AND LOOK WHERE IT’S LEFT HIM!! She stepped over his body, placing one foot after another as she started to advance on him. The rage pulsing through her was unimaginably forceful, more anger than she’d ever felt in her entire life, pressure building like flames in a capsule.
STONEGIT IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU–YOU SLUG-MINDED, SACRIFICIAL, RECKLESS OAF OF A KING! DON’T YOU DARE ORDER ME AROUND!!
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: “I will order you around however I please. I am the KING of the WILDERWEST, and you are nothing but a demon who has harmed more people than him alone. You have done more slaughter than anything I ever have done, given more torment, more pain to the people around you.”
Haddock was done. He was so done with all this, her, Orskaf, the war, everything. He snapped, anger burning.
“I can go off and list one by one every wrong thing you have done. EVERY LAST ONE. I have done nothing but care for Stonegit. I have made my mistakes but all in good intentions. What have you done? Broken a man’s mind when you possessed him? Forced Tree to kill her lover? Trapped us in a dungeon in the first place? Over and over and over again… YOU are the one who should have been locked away! YOU are the one who should step aside!”
Nalaagura Ep'ha: You are nothing.
She had almost closed the distance in between them. 
What about every foul deed you have ever committed, Gareth? You haven’t considered those? A shorter lifespan does not guarantee a cleaner conscience and yours isfar from being spotless! You are no better than me! Her finger jabbed out at the corpse bleeding its life into the dirtied river. You are no better than him! And you mostcertainly, she continued in a fury, hand groping at her side,don’t deserve HIM!! Her hand flew back at Stonegit.
You deserve nothing! You are nothing!! 
THIS IS ALL…YOUR…F̳̤̘͚A͙̞͈̼̠͗U̫̦̫̖͎ͬͩ̔L̗ͪ̏̅ͮ͑͆̋T̳̹̝̞̲͚̈!!!
And with a raging scream, she drew her sword in a flash and slammed the flat of the blade into his back, and there was a horrific, splintering, cracking sound.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Without even a word, Haddock crumpled, legs buckling. His eyes widened at the shock of the pierced back, but no other reaction came. He fell straight forward, hit his head on a rock…. and never moved.
Nalaagura Ep'ha: She wanted it back. She wanted to take it all back.
The sword fell out of her hand and fell to the ground with a muffled thud. Her aggressive stance loosened and all of the pounding anger vanished in a second. The scarlet faded away again, replaced with a dark, dark purple. She thrust into the king’s mind but it was a blinding confusion of darkness and pure, intense pain, and she withdrew with a choked gasp, shaking her head.
No–I didn’t–I didn’t mean–Gareth–deities, please, no–
Something flickered at the edge of her awareness and she snapped around to sense the barest trace of light…coming from Stonegit.
He’s still…alive…? Then…that means I…
Everything slammed into her at once, every implication and realization of her actions, and she crumpled to the ground, eyes wide and staring.
No. No, no, no.
She slowly sunk her face into her hands, shoulders beginning to quiver, and she fell to her knees and then to her face, hunched over and shaking, and all that could be heard above the rushing of the river was a soft sobbing.
I’m s-s-sorry…
Category:Season 5
Category:Events
Category:Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second
Category:Orskaf Donz
Category:Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss
Category:The Warden
Category:BOTGD