The Castle [Concluded]

[Killfr3nzy]

The man known as Tiberius sagged as his name was called out, leaning on his metal stave to support his weight. Only three people wanted him dead, but with everyone else who cared to vote squabbling amongst themselves, that was enough. An elite began to head through the crowd towards him, drawing a shortsword as he went. No need for more force against one who had so obviously accepted his fate.
Suddenly, the blue-robed man straightened to his full height and thrust his stave forward while yelling a word of power, a ball of fire flying towards Craterus with a rushing roar. Taken by surprise, the red-cloaked man was hit in his breastplate, slammed to the ground and sliding along his back for several feet before coming to a rest. Tiberius let out a cry of victory and sent a quick trio of fireballs at the fallen man, the rest of the Hall momentarily stunned into inaction.
Craterus moved with incredible speed, sitting partially upright to unsling the shield from across his back and bringing it up into guard position without a moment to spare. The first attack washed over the rim of the shield and singed his armour, leaving the face of it cracked and molten. The second proved too much for the battered shield, shattering it and flinging debris and flame at Craterus, while the third impacted harmlessly on a golden shield of light.
Spitting curses, Tiberius flew at the two brown-robed men just then pushing their way through to the front of the crowd, flinging fire and drawing a long-knife from under his robes. Waldinger and Ephrum stumbled backwards, each chanting holy words and raising shields to block the attacks, but then Tiberius was among them. Waldinger was hit across the temple with the stave, but Ephrum’s jugular was parted, spurting blood as he collapsed. Spinning to continue his rampage, Tiberius was confronted by a snarlingCraterus, longsword flashing and ripping the stave out of his hand.
In a blur of successive blows which most of the assorted crowd could not follow, Tiberius was laid low, knife dropping from nerveless fingers as he fell, held up only by Craterus’ hand around his wrist and sword through his heart. Craterus grunted and tugged his sword free, Tiberius’ head lolling on his half-decapitated neck as he was unceremoniously dumped to the ground.
Every eye in the Hall watched Craterus as he cut the straps holding his breastplate with the dead man’s blade, letting the plate of dully glowing steel clatter to the ground.
Panting slightly, tendrils of smoke rising from his once-fine armour, blood still dripping from his sword and shield-hand flexing constantly to keep his hand limber, Craterus stared right back at them.
“I really don’t like mages.”