Arthus, the one man who stood against many challenged the king atop horse back as he road to the tower of Batterhorn. His horse wounded, walking dumb footed to the side he had to dismount and brave the rest of the task on foot. His horse collapsed as soon as he got off, sealing it's fate. "May the fates shine upon you, trusty stead." A utterance, a prayer and then he gently knelt down to touch the horse's eyelids, closing them forevermore. Arthus put his hand on the horse head and let out a sorrowful yell of anger and rage. "Arrrr! I'll get thee Rythas of Batterhorn."
He eventually forced himself up and many times he felt as if the the creature still followed him, much like a severed limb in a way that people call phantom limbs. "Preposterous, a phantom horse. I haveth no such belief in silly child stories." He said to himself, crossing the witch's bog not too far off in the distance. Sword's of slain men lay down on the ground everywhere and there was worse, so much worse. The contorted faces of the dead were sunk into the tree's and their some heads were on pikes. Arthus grasped his claymore with both hands and took a swing at a tree, chopping some firewood. The trees here were dry and old, dead if you will. They would make good firewood if he didn't burn down the whole brush and tree area. He tore off the bottom part of his loinclothe up to the top and tied it around the firewood he gathered.
Arthus wasn't about to stop until he got somewhere a bit more homely. He held the loincloth over his shoulder and suddenly saw a witch walk by, he assumed it was a witch, well he decked her pretty good using the the firewood as a weapon. It made a crack and split all over the place as the witch screamed and hit the ground like cinder blocks. "H-hold on, S'stranga. don't gut me like a fish, I know ye be planin. I can get ye to the king, fasta then walken." Arthus looked at her, he pulled at his chin stubble while thinking. "Ye get a deal. " He offered her his hand and then she put something in it, suddenly he felt a flying sensation.
It seemed as if he had went unconscious for a moment but woke up on the roof of Batterhorn tower. The fierce winds were blowing him around and he saw that soon it was to rain. Using his sword like his best friend before he lost his footing he stabbed it into the the keep of Batterhorn tower. His feet flew out from under him and like being on a fierce titan the sky roared and howled at him with thunder and wind. He manage to break into the area under the roof of the tower by using his claymore to stab at weak stone. The area gave way and suddenly he was in Rythas' room, a sudden shake startled Rythas from his slumber from the roof caving in. Rythas got up from his bed quickly with a blade of an opposite house to Arthus', the thieving wolf that stole his homeland from him was evident in both Rythas and the wolf on his sword.
Arthas' blade however had the pride of a lion and to show off the pride and his own personal fury from his vendetta Arthas let out a roar, then he ran forward. Rythas slashed for his enemy's face, but Arthas slashed his sword towards the other. As they locked swords the Arthas slammed his head against Rythas' un-armored head. He stepped back and Arthas got him under his foot as Rythas began to fall. "Give up, there is no honor in dyeing this way, brother." Rythas slashed Arthas' leg and Arthas dove his sword down, blood splashed his face.
The tyrant king was no more. Now was a new age of prosperity in all of Eldarhum, as the rightful ruler took the throne.
