“A military strategist of great renown, teaching a group of eager young cadets hoping to one day lead men gloriously upon the battlefield, once asked his class how to describe how one might utterly shatter the back of a pack mule using nothing more than a single twig. The class at first thought the request to be quite bizarre, but – believing fully that the instructor would not waste their time idly – they set about devising a solution to the problem all the same. Almost a half hour later, after much discussion had went down amongst the ranks of students present, they at long last put forth their agreed upon course of action for the teacher’s approval. Although there was much mechanical and magical ingenuity described in their plans to construct an apparatus that would accelerate the twig to a speed sufficient to harm anything that it might collide with, the man standing before them seemed less than pleased with their final answer.

As he chased every last one of them from his classroom, by way of his sword, he angrily made it known to those whom it was no longer in his interest to instruct, ‘You shatter the backbone of a pack mule - with naught more than a single twig - by first loading it up to the greatest capacity it could ever reasonably endure, and then finally dropping the twig on top of all that is already present. If you can’t see the practical solutions that are already in front of you, then you will never be capable of leading any foolish enough to follow in your lead towards anything other than their own demise!’”

- A Well Known Therian Parable

Chapter 26: “The Gamble Was Snake Eyes”

Despite his previously over aggressive desire to throw himself head first towards the assassins from Skrande, whom had at long last resurfaced from the woodwork, despite any such concerns from his mentor that he was not yet skilled enough in the ways of the blade; the fact of the matter was that all Terus had just seen was of so much shock to him, he could do naught but stand for a while staring dumbfoundly at the scene before him. Despite the fact he had previously witnessed the heathens warriors from afar murder a man back in Elpsiod with little more justification than the fact he had seen them, none of the vitriol that his master had often spouted towards the Skrandonese people could ever have prepared him for the sight of someone suddenly – without any provocation whatsoever – turning upon his own comrade as malevolently as he had just witnessed from the emerald haired Naun’tkch. If he had actually been privy to knowledge of how to use the Skrandonese language, he may very well have expired right then and there; for if he had but known that the assassin killed just now in a disgusting bout of betrayal was the brother of the watching Reoisce’aihr – something the assailant was very much aware of when he struck the cyan-haired man down – then his rage would surely have bursted a blood vessel in his head.

Fortunately for the fate of the Skradonese priestess, as we as Latte, Jysalef was not so greatly astounded by all that had just transpired that he could no longer maintain a hold upon his faculties. The second that the undulating magical blue walls that had comprised the Cage of Velf’sthram began to collapse - as the spell maintaining concentration of the one whom had erected them had been shattered utterly - the former Corsinthian soldier charged grimly forward, with sword drawn, towards his opponent. It was actually somewhat of a surprise to Naun’tkch that his quarry had been of fleet enough foot to reach him before he could reach the two women that had, only a few moments earlier, been of roughly equal distance from them both.

“You are a most idiotic sort of grand defiler, are you not?!” screamed out Naun’tkch angrily towards Jysalef as the spark showering exchange of flashing steel prevented him from finishing his intended path towards the two women present. “Even though you insist on defiling the afterlives of those who served valiantly in her glorious name, I would have thought even one such as you would have known an easy escape opportunity – so at to live in hiding a day longer – as you could have just had!”

One would have expected that during the clashing of blades that was transpiring before her, that the cyan-haired priestess known as Reoisce’aihr might have been wise enough herself to turn and flee; however, this was not the case presently at hand. Fact is, she simply could not allow herself to run and leave her betrayed brother bleeding on the ground as he presently was; if she was going to do anything at all about his current condition, she knew all too well that it was going to have to be done as soon as possible. Still, even though she had fully resolved to not run away from the fellow countryman whom now desired her demise, she still had the daunting problem of how to get to her fallen family member; if she were to simply try and sprint past the two warriors battling in front of her, she knew all too well that Naun’tkch would disengage Jysalef and move to reach her long before she could ever hope to close the distance between Lahkt and herself… let alone conduct the necessary rituals.

The young Latte, on the other hand, simply did not take the opportunity flee because the fear that currently had struck her down was so immense that it precluded the possibility of such actions being implemented; that, and Naun’tkch was not nearly close enough for his ankle to be bitten.

After a few more clashes of steel, the emerald haired assassin from the lands of Skrande further put forth towards the man standing between him and the Skrandonese women present, “In fact, defiler, you still can turn tail and live for another night or so before I ultimately find you again and finally end your blightful continued existence upon the Goddesses’ glorious creation! I promise that all you need do is turn now and I will not give chase, or at least not until I have rendered ultimate justice upon those whom have betrayed the very homeland itself of the Goddess’s chosen people!”

Not once pausing to relent in his bladed onslaught to hold back the emerald haired man, the vagrant swordsman happily declared through heavily gritted teeth, “I don’t think I ever see the existence of a world, you unfathomably godless Skrandonese butcher, where I might make a single motion – even to be done for my own sake – that would enable any joy upon your part!”

“Then know this,” frothingly screamed back Naun’tkch at the top of his lungs into the face of the man whom had defiled the soul of his former commander, “Once I have brought back honor to the soul of commander Draezooh’nyawc - and this is something that I will accomplish, you heathen – to reward your insistence on standing between myself and divine justice against those who have betrayed Skrande, I will pounce down upon that young boy following you and end his life in such a slow fashion as is befitting everyone alive in your heretical country! I know that you wish for me not to do this, I saw how worryingly you watched him last time when my comrade Dansk’sgou was about to cut him down, so just take the opportunity to run and leave the enemies of the Goddess herself to me!”

At this very moment someone did indeed take the offer to run, but it was not quite the entity that Naun’tkch had hoped would take him up on what he had envisioned as a truly magnanimous proposition. Running not away from him - but towards him instead, with his blade raised high - was the very same Terus Kyreon he had just attempted to use as a bargaining chip with Jysalef Soresh. The young swordsman in training had finally recovered his senses after the initial shock of all that he had just seen, and knew precisely what he was going to do next; any such fears that his master might have had about him not yet being ready for such a course of action be damned. Here before him was a raving mad man, whom would kill friend or foe alike at the drop of a hat, that wanted to end all their lives over the death of some disgusting heathen known as the Death Hawk; this man wanted all of them to die just to bring honor to the memory of the one whom had killed his father, the person whom - in doing so - had caused his mother to afterwards lose the very will to live itself when she had received word of dad’s death.

This was not someone that the son of Stalson Kyreon would suffer to live any longer, “You murderous bastard, back away from everyone now!”

A tremor of concern passed violently through the body of Naun’tkch when he noticed that the boy was no longer stricken down with fear; although he knew he could have easily killed the defiler’s travelling companion on any day of the week without so much as breaking a sweat, the fact that he was currently locked in combat with the defiler himself made this suddenly a somewhat dire situation. He was currently giving his all to maintain the pace at with which Jysalef Soresh was presently working his sword, but this had up until now not concerned him very much; after all, the Goddess herself – whom had just moments earlier granted him the means to take down the magical barrier erected by one whom would spit in the face of all things holy – would surely bring forth a crack in the swordplay of the defiler if he just kept his belief up through it all. However, to have to deal with both Jysalef Soresh and the annoying pup at the same time brought to his mind recollections of a particularly famous military parable that had once been told about pack mules and tiny twigs; surely the hand of the eternally condemned one was at work in all of this, there could be no other possible explanations

Although he dangerously weakened his ability to deflect incoming blows by doing so, Naun’tkch switched to holding his Skrandonese blade in a one handed fashion so that his other hand could quickly rummage about his robes for another throwing dagger. All he needed for the Goddess to grant him was one good deflection of Terus Kyreon’s blade – which shouldn’t be that hard to do, the boy wasn’t really that good with a sword - after which he would immediately throw the knife into the face of the defiler’s companion; thusly would both of his arms be freed up for Jysalef Soresh, assuredly permitting him to eventually topple both him and the traitorous people he was keeping him from. This was a very dangerous gamble to make, but one that he thought for sure would go down in his favor; after all, wherever his blade fell was the work of the glorious Goddess herself!

Alas, to the horrifying dismay of Naun’tkch, he discovered that the gamble was snake eyes; a hard blow from Jysalef which had pushed him both back and off his balance, as he was no longer using both his arms to deflect the blade of the former Corsinthian soldier, threw his move to deflect Jysalef’s ward with nothing more than a dagger completely off course. There was little he could do but watch as the young heathen’s blade ran clear into his lungs up to the hilt, knowing that full well he was now going to have answer for the charges of murdering Reoisce’lahkt - assuming the defiler didn’t first perform the damnifying ritual of Phal’muenstaqk on him - as he had failed to make the implementation of his comrade’s death have any meaning at al here today.

Speaking quickly - over the blood that he was violently coughing up, of which he knew would all too soon choke to death on – the emerald haired man turned over to Reoisce’aihr as he spoke his final words in the tongue of his people, “Why are you just standing there and watching as this defiler does all these things? You know full well that your fiancé was a part of Commander Draezooh’s unit on the day they were all killed by these heathens, chief of which is that man!”

Then Naun’tkch, the emerald haired assassin from Skrande, collapsed to the ground never to speak again.