2 Chapter 2: Lothær the Mighty

As winter approaches, in the frost-ridden summits of the Felmor mountains, a sizable tribe of the Darlarii people prepare for their end of the year celebration where their strongest warriors go head to head in a battle for supremacy. The men all line up along the edge of the pit where this battle will take place. As the drums begin to beat, they all leap into the pit and greet each other. The current leader, Lothær enters the pit wielding his splitting axes of Darkblood, a weapon he had earned through the power he had shown culling the demonic beasts in the nightshade wars when he was young, gifted to him by the god of rage Stälgrim. When split his axes absorb the blood of those he grazes and give him the ability to take on the power of Stälgrim, giving him god-like strength, agility, and regenerative abilities. In honor of the games, Lothær puts his axe away on his back and picks up a club.

"You think we can't handle your power brother?" one of his clansmen says

"How little do you think of us?" another retorts

"I am just doing this in the interest of fairness so none of you children can say that I have cheated you on this day, I have no doubts that I will be the last one standing" Lothær jests in return.

"I'll have your head and your throne for that!" the first man yells in anger, then spitting to the ground he says "I will see you in the Elder Plains, you prideful fool."

As the drums begin to get louder, the clansman who are not participating lower the cage over the pit. The men all look to their sides in preparation for what is to come, and with a loud beat of the drums, fire shoots from the top of the pit, signifying that the battle has begun. All of the men begin battling each other, kicking up dust within the pit. The two men who had talked to Lothær before the start of the battle rush him. Before they reach him, Lothær smacks the ground with the club with so much power that the club shatters and a huge plume of dust flies in the air, hiding Lothær's location. As the men strike down their weapons where Lothær once was, they look around to see that he has disappeared.

"Too slow children," Lothær whispers behind them and he raises his hand to strike them.

"Impossib-"

With one fell swoop. Both men are launched into the wall of the pit, knocking them out. Lothær turns to see the rest of his clansman still battling and laughs in enjoyment.

"The All-Mother would be proud of you all for fighting so valiantly brothers!" he screams as he runs into the thick of the battle with just his fists, nearly mowing down the rest of the competition with ease.

As he comes to his youngest brother Bulrah who is also excelling within the battle, they lock eyes and smile at one another.

"I am surprised your aging body has not failed you, brother!" Bulrah says to his brother.

"And your hot-headedness has yet to fail you!" Lothær replies as he prepares to fight.

"You call me hotheaded and yet you come at me with only fists? How dull. You must underestimate me" Bulrah replies as he prepares as well, throwing his axe to the floor. "Let us settle this and show who is the strongest brother," Bulrah called out as he begins to run towards Lothær.

The rest of the fighting stops as all the clan lays in wait to witness this battle of true blood. Bulrah tackles Lothær to the ground and begins to wail on his brother while on top of him. Lothær then grabs Bulrah by the waist and throws him off. As Bulrah recovers, he looks up to see Lothær leaping down onto him. Bulrah rolls to the left and gets up. As he stands, Lothær punches him in between his eyes, knocking him back and off balance. As he regains his composure, Lothær grabs him by the ankles and begins to spin him and throw him against the wall of the pit, creating a large hole and a huge plume of dust. Coughing, Bulrah slowly exits the hole. He then charges Lothær to try and tackle him again. Lothær sidesteps and collapses on top of Bulrah, bringing him to the ground.

"Concede, brother," Lothær says as he pins Bulrah to the ground, holding both of this arms behind his back.

"You have fought well today and there is no doubt in my mind that you will take the throne next" he continues.

Bulrah, clearly angered, sighs and admits defeat. As he does this the crowd cheers and the rest of the clansman concede, knowing that they will have to train much harder to compete within the league of Lothær and Bulrah. With this, the cage is lifted from the pit and the clansmen are all brought up. Lothær congratulates everyone who had participated. And calls the winter's feast to begin.

With the Battle over, Lothær and the other clansman begin their feast. The night is filled with the sounds of laughter and singing. As the clansman make their rounds to congratulate Lothær on his winning of the battle for his 4th year in a row, they await his plan for the raids of the coming year. Lothær stands up and walks to the bonfire at the center of the feast. He raises his drink and calls for the music to stop.

"For this year's raids," he says as the clan quiets.

"We will be journeying far from our usual raids of the marshlands, for I have learned of a place with walls of silver and gold deep within the mainland. This land is called Ralstrog!"

The clan begins to cheer and chant "Ralstrog, Ralstrog, Ralstrog!"

Lothær laughs and returns to his throne telling the musicians to carry on with the music and the clan to carry on the celebration. Bulrah comes to Lothær's throne

"I didn't get the chance to do this earlier, but I am here to congratulate you on your win, you bested me, brother," he says to Lothær while looking towards the ground.

"Brother, why do you look ashamed? You nearly bested me and put up one of the best fights I have ever had, be proud of your strength, look me in the eyes, and do not think yourself a failure." Lothær tells his brother as he lifts his chin. "You are the strongest of our brethren, hold that close to your heart and don't let that go." he continues. "Now, go enjoy yourself on this night, there is much planning to be done tomorrow," Lothær says as he sits back into his throne.

As the night continued, Lothær notices a beautiful woman standing on her own near the edge of the summit. He gets up from his throne and walks towards her.

"I don't believe I have ever seen you here, what is your name?" he asks the woman as he approaches her.

"My name is not important," she replied

"What should I call you then? I try to know all of my clansmen" Lothær says

"I am not of your clan, I am here bearing you a message. Your strength is needed, dark times are in store for Kal, you will be at the head of those times." the mysterious woman says.

"Speaking so vaguely will give me no information. Who are you, and what do you mean that I will be at the head of the dark times?" Lothær asked the woman.

"Pledge your strength to me," she replied.

Lothær laughs and says "I think you may have had too much mead for one night, I will be returning to the festivities now."

"You will regret this refusal." the woman says as Lothær began to walk back.

Hearing this, Lothær turned back towards the woman, but she was no longer there, he ran back to the edge believing this woman had jumped to her death, but when he peered over the edge, she was not there. "Where could she have gone so quickly?" he thought to himself while looking over the edge. As he is in thought, a loud crash echoes from behind Lothær, shaking the ground as he turns around, he sees his home burning and meteors raining upon the ground, followed by the screams of his people. Lothær runs back to the camp to see it covered in a flame of a greenish hue. "I know these flames, but we have already culled the Fallen. What is happening?" all of his clansman burning away and turning into the grotesque demons known as the Fallen of which he and his clan had spent their lives fighting to extinction. He falls to his knees, helpless as he sees his own brother looks into his eyes, screaming in agony as he was also slowly transformed. As his skin began to smoke and crack, revealing bright green blood leaking out of the cracks until all of Bulrah's skin had melted away, leaving only a demonic scorched body.

"Black magic," Lothær says to himself.

"That woman.."

As he is in thought he looks and sees the once brothers and sisters of his clan who are now demons charging him. Crying, he slowly stands and takes his splitting axes from his back. "Bulrah, I am sorry, I have failed you.." He hangs his head low as he splits his axe. Roots spread from the handles of the now two axes, and dig into his forearms, smoke permeate from his skin as it begins to inflate and glow red. Lothær let out a scream in agony that could be heard for miles as he charged into his former clansmen. As he spends the night chopping away at what was once his own family. Slaying them all. He again falls to his knees as he kills what was once Bulrah. "Rest now, brother. May the All-Mother grant you eternal power." Lothær whispers, after a moment, all goes silent. Taking the cloak that Bulrah was wearing and throws it over his back. He walks away, looking one last time to the place he had once called home. Never to return, he begins his journey to find the being who had done that to his kin and exact revenge for his brother and his clansman.