King of Lions

“My love, the mortals are heading towards your realm…” Naala crooned, since the Ghostlord’s
demise she had regained some of the wild vitality, she had once possessed. To the unaware she
would seem much like the king himself, a simulacrum of what they once were, but not quite right.

“Oh, not a year passes, and they seek to break their word. I admire the gall if not the honour, do
they depart from the ruins we left? Or perhaps that Sun-worm’s temple?”

“No, my king, they depart the forest, it seems even Heroes of Aedros have more word for their
Mortal Sword.”

“Ah… him…” the king was silent for a moment, he watched his Pride before him, likewise returned to
a semblance of their lycanthropic power, as they brawled and cavorted. But once again, the
wrongness irked him, one of his champions struck his comrade, breaking the warrior’s neck, yet the
dead leonine laughed and pulled his head to face the right way again.

He broke his silence with a low growl, that sent shiver through the mesa’s hall, causing a silence to
fall. “We shall meet with him, my love, I wish to hear what this barbarian would say. And if he
desires war…” the heat in the chamber rose as the dead warriors’ passion for violence stirred “then
let our Pride tear apart these lands once again! My warriors, what are our words?”

“NO GODS! NO EMPEROR! NO DRAGONS! ONLY THE KING!” They chorused with roars and howls,
shifting to their bestial forms.

No, he thought to himself, it is still wrong… and he raised a fist in salute and sank back into his
throne wrapped in his black armour.

Ambition
The door closed with a slam, rattling the office, he heard the music pause and whispers from below
even as his guest left…

With a shaky hand, Erasmus poured himself a drink and sank it, “Francois wasn’t kidding, I wonder if
he even knows how he looks faces up against.” He muttered to himself, but he held himself together
somehow. Say one thing for Erasmus Panas, say he has a good poker face. “now what to write to a
crime-syndicate running Archess, that expresses you’re willingness to be on her payroll, without
angering the local heroes of the realm…” he sighs.

A shadow reaches forward and sweeps up his bottle of vintage Tor Whiskey, taking a deep slug with
a purr, “if you’re worried about the Archess, don’t be, we’re going to play this one out for a while.
Focus on recouping your losses Praetor, now is a time for recruitment and lazy guard shifts” the
clawed hand places the bottle back on the Praetor’s desk and the cloaked shadow pauses only
slightly as it leaves the room “surely you can do that can’t you?”

The closes, with a whisper, and Erasmus shivers again. Say one thing for Erasmus Panas, Praetor of
the Foxtail Firebrands, Bearer of the Rod of Silvius, say he was fucked right between two hard
places…