Honor in death: Mortis' demonstration of power

Sabalef appeared in the center of the arena and said with a sinister smile, "It seems we made a small mistake. It seems that the protective measures were not thoroughly checked, and this bloody result occurred. But don't worry, the arena will be cleared now and the next fight will start soon. To make sure that something like this doesn't happen again, of course, we will take precautions. It will be interesting to see if anyone wants to challenge Thrain Stoneheart now. After all, he has divided his clan chief. But that need not be our concern. So, everyone off the stage so we can clean up. After all, the spectators still want to see spectacle." 

Thrain put away his axe and turned around. A giant loomed before him. The older dwarf snorted contemptuously at Mortis. What exactly Thrain was thinking, no one could know, but he moved toward the stands. There his daughter had changed back and was now sitting, full of shame and visibly nervous, next to his wife Brynhild. Brynhild, however, hardly glanced at her daughter. She seemed disappointed and looked rigidly into the arena. 

King Gror Steinbart trembled with rage and roared toward the arena, "Are you mad, Thrain? How could you kill your clan chief, the clan that is under my rule? Have you no respect for your kind or me? Kaldig may have been a cunning bastard, but he was your prince, and I am your king! What were you thinking?"

Thrain turned his gaze to one of the lodges from which the voice came, and replied in an icy voice, "My kind is my family. And anyone who dares to go against them, I will dismember. Perhaps after hundreds of years, a worthy prince for Felshain will finally emerge, instead of the corrupt bastards you have tolerated."

Without so much as another glance at King Gror, Thrain resolutely went on his way.

King Gror felt Thrain's words resonate. He was well aware that there was a lot wrong in Felshain. But in order not to become the next target of Thrain's wrath, he kept his cool. He ordered his guards to pick up Nominene and get her medical attention. He also ordered Kaldig's body to be removed from the arena with respect.

Mortis, on the other hand, removed himself from the arena for the time being so as not to get in the way of the dwarves. He watched from a distance as the older dwarf slowly approached his daughter Edna. With each step he took, his stern gaze softened, and when he finally saw his daughter alive and well before him, a happy smile could be seen on his face.

The warlike dwarf was unsure how to address his daughter. Edna looked at him with sad and guilty eyes, but did not dare to look him directly in the eyes. Thrain sat down beside her, did not say a word, and waited patiently for Edna to find the courage to speak. The whole family remained in silence, watching the stage where Kaldig was wrapped in a flag. Other dwarves joined in a chorus to pay proper tribute to the deceased prince. 

The other peoples also joined in the chorus, rising from their seats to honor the dwarf. Perhaps Kaldig posthumously received more respect and honor than he might have deserved. But all peoples united in that moment to fill the hearts of the dwarves and share their grief. 

When the song had faded and there were no more dwarves to be seen in the arena, Terrion, the God of Earth, stepped forward. He thanked them in a deep voice for this respectful gesture, which was close to him, as the God of Dwarves and Dark Alves. "It touches my heart to see you standing together today," he said. Then he assured that arrangements had been made to prevent further interference in the arena battles. In his thunderous voice, he announced the next big event: the "Clash of Kings."

Mortis, who had been preparing for the upcoming battle, dressed anew, determined not to be inferior to his companions in appearance and presence. He wore black, tight-fitting leather armor that accentuated every muscle and contour of his body. An impressive, gleaming silver scythe adorned his back, while his shoulder pads resembled shimmering white feathers. With this impressive appearance, Mortis confidently made his way to the arena, ready to confront his opponents and show every spectator that he could impress not only with his fighting skills, but also with his charisma and appearance. 

Mortis entered the arena with a presence that dwarfed anything he had ever seen before. His every step echoed with a power that came from the dark energy he controlled. The black of his armor stood in stark contrast to the bright arena, and his silver scythe reflected the light with a dazzling brilliance.

The arena was caught in awed silence as he reached the center.

With a deep, thunderous laugh, Mortis fixed his eyes on the entrance from which his opponent was to step. He folded his arms and leaned the mighty scythe against his shoulder.

"Come out, you coward!" he shouted mockingly, his voice echoing throughout the arena, leaving the audience in tense anticipation. "Are you hiding from me? Or do you need another moment to prepare for the inevitable?"

A few moments passed in tense silence before Mortis raised his voice again, this time louder and more threatening, "COME OUT, YOU BAD BODY! Today you may survive the battle. But take note of what I say: it will be a powerful memory. One you will never forget."

The arena was filled with a thick, oppressive tension as everyone present stared at the entrance from which Mortis' opponent was to step. Whoever dared to face him would certainly not have an easy task.

A cold wind blew through the arena, stirring up the sand as the massive gates opened with a loud creak. Four figures stepped out, each of them in full battle gear. The sunlight reflected off their armor, giving them a menacing glow. Their eyes sparkled with anticipation and determination, and it was clear that they were ready for this fight.

The audience roared, some cheering the newcomers, others shouting insults. The tension was palpable as Mortis and the four warriors eyed each other appraisingly, each ready to give their best and carry off the victory.

Mortis slowly drew his silver scythe from his back, the blade reflecting the light and casting dazzling patterns on the sandy ground. He grinned at the four challengers. "Are you ready for your lesson?" he asked mockingly.

The four warriors drew their weapons in unison and lined up in formation as a sign of their unity and determination to win this battle. The arena was filled with the shouts and cheers of the spectators, everyone eagerly awaiting the first blow.