In Huck's Hands

bonus chapter King H--/ The Crimson Searing

"I beg you...Please King H--" 6 cubits of gorgeous hot Vascsteele blade ended the ruination of my name. Buritian tongue was not meant to utter such scalding Noble syllables that encased my magnific name, I would see to that more thoroughly.

My grip reversed, yanking the sword from the gaping wound that gushed impure blood onto the glistening sands while sending this filthy animal-man before me to Dhira's inferno. "Send another...BRING ME THE TAHULI!"

A small man no larger than the average Buritian stood before me, the quaking knees behind his provided armor gave way to a fit of sobbing. Weakness and pity were marks of shriveled men.

I sent my hand forward with a jagged motion, penetrating the temple of the crying man's helmet with a blow to the head. Large golden claws were my preferred weapon--The feeling of blood matting my regal hair was exhilarating!

He stumbled back as the collision registered to him, horror showing on his now exposed face. "Yamari (Devil)!" Sand blasted into my eyes causing me to double over. Fury. Fury! HOW DARE THIS BEAST OF BURDEN PLAY SUCH DIRTY TRICKS!

I threw the blade with all my might. Though he tried to run out of the way he failed, his body becoming stuck greviously with the King's Wrath. My father's sword spun as it whittled its serrated edges deeper into the convulsing Tahuli savage. "BRING ME MORE! BRING ME THE WARRIORS!"

The roar of the crowd was music to my ears, a symphony of fear and adoration that fed the inferno of my ego. I stood tall, my seven-foot frame casting a shadow across the blood-soaked sands. Let them gaze upon perfection, I thought, let them tremble before the might of Vasca incarnate.

The gates groaned open once more, disgorging two Buritian warriors into my domain. Their oiled skin glistened beneath the merciless sun, muscles rippling with each step. I sneered at their elaborate tattoos, pitiful attempts to mark themselves as worthy. There was only one mark that mattered in this arena...the mark of my claws rending their flesh.

"Come, dogs of Buriti," I growled, flexing my fingers. The golden claws caught the light, and I saw my reflection in their polished surface - crimson eyes blazing with bloodlust, dreadlocks freshly matted with the gore of fallen foes. "Let us see if your blades are as sharp as your tongues."

They circled me like the curs they were, eyes darting between me and each other. I could smell their anxiety, taste their anguish in the air. It was intoxicating.

One of them finally found his courage, lunging at my exposed flank with a curved blade. Fool. Did he think me some lumbering oaf, slow and stupid? I pivoted with the grace of a Doigan dancer and the speed of a striking sandviper, my right hand's claws catching his blade and sending it skyward.

Before he could blink, my left hand raked across his face. The sensation of flesh parting beneath my claws sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. His scream of agony was sweeter than any court musician's melody.