Forks in hands, a table full of tall, black as ash men pound their fists on the scarred wood. Snarls fill the air as a man, taller and stronger than the rest, stands at the table's head, all sound ceases as they wait.
He rakes his pale eyes over them and says, "Battles won, wars lost, a queen found, a kingdom bound, slaughter, kill, catch, stretch!"
The men begin to pound their fists again, faster and faster, they began to repeat their king's words. Bouts of laughter erupted and echoed off the walls of the dining hall.
The king spun around to a small closed door, the kitchen, and arms raised, yelled," Ssserve our poor sssoldiers! Come!"
A man, bound and conscious was carried into the room by low ranking Thylendrians and thrown onto the table.
"A Dietérian. A guard to the kingdom'sss entrance! With each guard we are clossser to a victory. One that will expand our landsss and give you, my people, a queen," he smiled. "Now eat," he whispered.
The king's soldiers threw themselves on top of the man, their forks and knives forgotten; some held him down as he continued to squirm, the others began to untie him.
"Remove hisss gag. I want to heeear him ssscreeeeam," a hiss floated through the mesh of bodies in an ancient language spoken by many, but forgotten some.
As horse hair ropes were untied, a white light began to emanate from the prisoner's body. Arms, legs, hands began to expand two, four, six times their normal size. The black skin creatures began to roll off the table, and pressed their backs against cement walls, a safe distance away, as they watched in fear. Their king stood his ground, not moving or showing signs of emotion.
The prisoner's eyes were now silver and his hair the color of a cloud's underbelly; a sly smile crept across the prisoner's mouth. His feet sat firmly on the ground, seated on the table, elbows resting on his thighs and hands dangling in between, he leaned towards the king, his face six times the king's.
In a voice all too recognizable, he spoke, "You kill my people. I will make you suffer." The voice was low and cool, it was a voice of royalty, of a woman that was as familiar with receiving threats as she was to distributing.
A chill ran down the king's back. Posture straight, face blank; this was his home, his territory, the queen of Diertéri had no pull on his lands.
"Possessing one of your men; scared to face me in person? If you wish to kill me, first you must declare war on us, and sssweetheart, your people cannot risk what they do not have by participating in a war." His voice shook slightly, but he was otherwise steady.
He retreated a step as the giant man's face began to turn black, then crumble as if someone had sped up the decomposition of a body. The blackened, crumbly nose, then arms fell to the floor with a thump as it hit. A smirk still graced the giant's mouth, the whites of his eyes contrasting with what was left of him.
Then, on a random gust of wind, the clumps of blackened flesh and muscles fell apart, the ash now covering half the table and most of the floor.
