(2) Sons of Terrinore v (23) Songs of Sorrow

[Thoracis]

((Italics in this post are mostly paraphrased from my own work or posts made by Dirks or Redrick in The Nobodies vs. The Untouchables. Bold and italics are Thoracis’ thoughts.))

“Son of a bitch, Kornis. NO!”

Hashin Gert and Wohan Kold had been their names. They were “The Untouchables”.

It was already too late. The dwarven prince had engaged Dirks in combat.

Gert had been about Thoracis’ size, small, fast, and elusive. Kold was a monster of a man, a tower of brute force the opposite of his partner. That was until, out of nowhere, the giant’s head fell to the ground. The shadow stood mocking, daring Gert to attack. He went for his weapon, but it was not nearly fast enough. No sooner had his hands closed on the hilt of the weapon then hid head too, was severed, and his body fell lifeless to the ground.

Perhaps today would not end so badly for those who were caught between them. Kornis was holding his own against Dirks, whom he had just head butted and sent sprawling to the ground. “He’s nothing to worry about!” the dwarf called back to Thoracis.

He’s nothing to worry about….

”I’m just here to protect my investments.” Dirks had proclaimed upon emerging in the forest… just before the butt of his gun had slammed into Thoracis’ back. Everything became a blur as Thoracis fought Mazrith, Dirks fought Azrael, and innocent victims lay dead on the ground. But the fight had gone in favor of The Nobodies. They had the upper hand and seemed to be winning handily. Max Dirks was no match for Thoracis.

The mage was stunned as Kornis approached Dirks, his axe held like a bat, seemingly about to decapitate the criminal. The tables had turned completely. This time innocence would not be lost. Those with no place in the struggle would be spared. Today it was Max Dirks who would taste cold, steel defeat.

He’s nothing to worry about….

But you could never count Max Dirks out… Dirks quietly raised his gun once more and slowly crept towards Thoracis. Once the gun was but a mirror foot away from Thoracis, Dirks pulled the trigger, sending an iron bullet straight towards the ice mage’s skull.

Kornis is going to die…

The wooden handle of the axe tore before the prevalida blade. The katana pierced the dwarf’s armor and a steady flow of crimson dripped from the metal and to the ground. Kornis turned to Thoracis, clutching his torso. It would be hard to forget the look in his eyes. It was not a look of fear or pain. It was the look of shame and disappointment. With his last living breath the Prince of Kachuk apologized to Thoracis Rakarth with one awful look.

Anger replaced composure instantly. Thoracis had just broken a promise. Even worse it had been broken by the man he despised more then any other and the last man who should have ever had a chance to have broken it. Without thought the Beretta 950 was drawn and pointed directly at Dirks, who was turning back to Thoracis at that very moment.

“Was the bitch really worth all this trouble?”