Daramlhoardd’s War

Defiant and looking as beautiful as ever, Angvaradel, dressed in gleaming chain mail stood at her husband, Alldelham’s right side.
The great sword “Dark Helm,” was held in her white knuckled left hand.  In her right there was a golden helmet, a plume of tail feathers from the blue Ostari on the crest waved back and forth in wind.
Prince Karodem, dressed in armour that was emblazoned with two crimson roses on a field of blue stood at her right side. The look upon his youthful face was as defiant as the one his mother wore.
“So it is true,” anger grew to be a mighty thing, filling Daramlhoardd’s body and soul with an overwhelming fullness. “The fruit of my loins has betrayed me.” For a moment another thought intruded into his dark, evil mind and brought with it a tiny ray of hope. “That loathsome witch, that cursed bitch Angvaradel, has cast a spell onto my son.”
“Well brother dear it is kind of you to visit me but you didn’t need to bring so many with you. I doubt if my larder can provide all of you with meat.” Alldelham, quelled his quacking limbs and gazed with steady, unblinking blue eyes into his brother’s green one.
“I did not come to dine,” Daramlhoardd roared.
“Pray tell, what did you come for?”
“Your head will do for a start,” Daramlhoardd spat the words, “And then I’ll have that of your bitch, your whelp and that of my son.”

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