Covered in blood and guts, Irzen spat upon the corpse of the fallen Ashuruk and stumbled across the battlefield nearly exhausted from the fight. Off in the distance, his Elven eyes spotted Gruumasht hiding in a tree line observing the battle and its terrible result.

With his blood-soaked sword in hand, the Swordsman pounded his blade against his chest, opened his arms in open challenge and screamed the Drow cry of victory, "WESTFALL VICTA!!!!"

++++Drow to Common Translation: "WESTFALL VICTORIOUS!"++++

Captain Andaerean rode over to Irzen nodding with approval, "One less to deal with. We've gathered our wounded and our dead. Come join us later if you will, Lord Irzen."

With a wild-eyed look, the Swordsman turned towards the mounted calvaryman, "Siyo! Siyo! Usstan orn valm dos! Udos inbal casexiggus victa nindol tangi!"

++++Drow to Common Translation: "Yes! Yes! I will join you! We have emerged victorious this day!"++++

Seizing the head of Ashuruk by a single tuff of hair on its head, Irzen marched wearily over to the wargoat, "Doer! Ori'gato udossa yutsu ulu udossta abbanen l'amith udossta ultrinnan nindol tangi."

++++Drow to Common Translation: "Come! Let us return to our allies and enjoy our victory."++++

The wargoat snorted at the stench of the dead orc's head in protest. Once Irzen mounted again, the wargoat galloped back to the city of Westfall where the gold dragon watched all of them return alive. Well most of them.

Satisfied the immediate danger had passed, Perthonexio left and returned to the gauntlets once more leaving a very tired elementalist walking through the main gate. Lazheros was already there waiting for her when she collapsed and caught her just in time. One of the handmaidens watched from the wall in silence as the bronze man brought the elementalist up and past her.

Lazheros stopped for a moment, "Is there something you, or the princess needs?"

The handmaiden said nothing backing out of the way, her hand on the hilt of her weapon. There was a nervous twitch in her eye as sweat poured down on one side.

The bronze man now faced her, his gaze bore into her mind and she resisted him, "My apologies," And he stepped past her setting the elementalist down on a bench just as she drew her jagged blade. Her strike was blindingly fast swinging to and fro but the armor that the bronze man wore deflected it.

The sounds of a weapon hitting armor drew out the ranger.

"What is going on here?" The Prince stepped toward the confrontation between The Cleric and the Hand Maiden with his hand upon the hilt of his sword.

The hand maiden's expression turned maddening and crazed now, her eyes wild and filled with an uncontrolled rage since her first target was unfazed by her killing stroke. Whirling around, Willow now faced another broken puppet of Gruumasht. Out of one sword came another identical jagged blade slashing wildly at the ranger forcing him backwards. Quick hard strokes from the assailant dropped two of the royal guards before they could intercept. Blood soaked eyes continued to rage from the handmaiden screaming uncontrollably when she charged the ranger with intent to kill him and everyone else now.

"Whoa!" Willow ducked, bobbed and weaved as best he could to avoid the slashing, jabbing and stabbing motions of the Hand Maiden's lethal attack. She was on him so quickly and so furiously that he barely had enough time to pull his blade free of his scabbard to defend himself.

Princess Liliandra came out now, she was utterly mortified at the sudden carnage, and more so as one of her most trusted handmaidens turned into a blood thirsty maddening killer. It was a scene from John Carpenter's Ghosts of Mars slightly scaled down but still scary as hell with an elf consumed on killing everyone around her. Using her own magic, the princess was able to Hold the handmaiden long enough for Willow to put down the assailant before anyone else fell.

The Prince quickly ran her through with his sword and took a step back as he gasped, "Thank you, Lili! She was so fast and so quick. I barely had time to do anything."

Looking at the two fallen royal guardsmen, Willow ran over to them to check and see if they were still alive. One of them was dead yet the other was barely clinging to life. The Prince turned to his sister-in-law, "Get the Cleric! NOW!"

"Willow," The elementalist opened her eyes leaning against the stone wall, "He's right here."

Lazheros went over to the fallen guards and healed the one he could save. Sadly though, the other guard was gone, "He has gone to join his ancestors, Prince Willow. The other will be fine after some rest, and for that creature, I have seen this before and only once. She may of been an elf once but when her mind is broken, there's only instinct and blind rage. There is a being capable of bringing out the evil in a soul, and he is very good at it. A half orc Brujah-warlock who specializes in creating Meat puppets, and if I miss my guess, he's the one behind this."

War Scribe merely looked on and did what she always did--record all that she saw in her tome.

"Who is this half Orc Warlock?" The Prince clenched his fist in anger, "What is its name? I want to know who this creature is before I run him through!"

The bronze man narrowed his eyes for a moment, "Barakas is his name and unlike Gruumasht, who is easy to spot on the battle field, this half orc prefers to remain hidden. There was a terrible rumor years ago that he made a pact with the Shadow Realm. The Hells aren't much different, however, at least you see what your facing before you die, or am I wrong Chronicler?"

"You are absolutely correct," War Scribe replied looking up from her work, "Barakas made a pact with Shar, Mistress of the Night and Lady of Loss, to be precise. The Half-Orc literally sold his soul to her in exchange for the power to create Meat Puppets." The Drowling wistfully continued, "Personally, I think she got the better end of the deal. He wasn't REALLY asking for much and Shar was WAY TOO eager to stake a claim on his soul. Hell, she probably thought it was a good down payment for all of the misery she knew he would cause in The Realm."

****

Irzen proudly rode back into the castle, dismounted from Billy and handed the reins of the wargoat over to Caliaphy, "Plynn bwael kyon d'ukta, qunnessaa, uk uriu ussen'me uns'aa al nindol tangi."

++++Drow to Common Translation "Take good care of him, fairy, he has served me well this day."++++

Caliaphy waved her hand back and forth, "P.U! You stink! You need a bath!"

Irzen sniffed himself and smiled at the Fairy, "Usstan qua'l"

++++Drow to Common Translation "I agree."

Then the Dark Elf walked towards the ramparts to find Prince Willow and Princess Liliandra with the head of Ashuruk still clutched in his hands.

The Swordsman came into a new scene of carnage normally saved for the battle field with one very disturbing and vicious and very dead hand maiden.

Irzen saw Princess Liliandra, proudly approached the Elven ruler, dropped to one knee before her and offered up the head of Ashuruk, "Usstan belbau dos l'karliik d'dosst ogglin! Uk ssuule nau mzild! Dosst hosse f'rear victa! Westfall victa!"

+++Drow to Common Translation: "Behold the head of your enemy! He breathes no more! Your army stands triumphant! Westfall victorious!"

Liliandra stared at the Swordsman, "Get that thing out of here at once! We do not celebrate our victories by carrying the head of an enemy around for all to see!"

"Ah, Scribe, translation please before things get worse." The elementalist asked the drowling.

"WOW! It's been a long time since I've seen him stuck in Irzen mode," War Scribe cooed, "This should be fun! But, first, a translation."

Both Lazheros and Alyson grumbled.

The Drowling turned towards The Princess, "Your Majesty, Lord Irzen means you no harm. For the moment, he can only speak in the Drow tongue and these are the words he just said, 'Behold the head of your enemy! He breathes no more! Your army stands triumphant! Westfall victorious!'"

"We understood that part," Alyson leaned forward a bit, "you know with the head case there."

"Now, I'll tell him exactly what you said," War Scribe turned towards Irzen and spoke eloquently in the Drow tongue, "Inbau nindel klez doeb d'ghil a h'uena! Udos xun naut celebrate udossta victas a kurross l'karliik d'biu ogglin bauth whol jal ulu kyorl."

Irzen rose to his feet and without a moment's hesitation tossed the head of the fallen Orc up and over the rampart to the ground beyond the castle walls, "Evagna uns'aa, Qu'essan, Usstan zhaun naut l'liaden d'dosst lodias. Usstan jaklu'zin lac ulu bel'la udossta ultrinnan nindol tangi."

"Lord Irzen says--" War Scribe began before Irzen cut her off.

"Venta'kyorl Irzen!" The Drow insisted, "Udos ph'a thalack."

"--Captain Irzen says," The Drowling corrected herself, "He insists on me referring to him by his military rank because we are at war. Anyhoo, Captain Irzen says 'Forgive me, Princess Liliandra, I know not the customs of your people. I merely seek to honor our victory this day.'"

The princess looked at Willow, "He's your ally, this is your call but I'd prefer not to have that thing anywhere near our people living and dead."

"Is there anything you would like to say to him other than the fact he needs a bath?" War Scribe hunched her shoulders.

"I will help Alyson to the guest quarters for now and return to help with any healing that is required," Lazheros told Willow and Liliandra as he turned and picked up the elementalist again.

Down by the stables, the kurori shouted, "THE SWORDSMAN NEEDS A BATTTTTTTTTTHHHH!!!"