Wulf the Eternal Warrior

Amosis, the high priest of Kemet had spent a relaxing night. The black lotus leaf had helped, as had also the dried myrrh that accompanied it. He had connected with many deities of the Afterlife: he felt contented with his otherworldly accomplishments…

For, it turns out, that to employ the black arts, that necromancy that will effect magic of the type to conquer swords, it is draining. To spend time in his dark chamber, inhaling the leaf of the black lotus was reviving of his powers. It was not sleep- no, far from it- he had spent the past 12 hours in the darkness of the depths of space, communing with evil deities never meant to live on earth. The extreme coldness; coldness so frigid that it felt white hot, had revived him.

His dark, slitted eyes were flecked with red now, and power seemed to radiate over the priest. With a swirl of dark robes, he exited his chambers, and headed towards the throne room. It was time to deal with the northern barbarian, to avenge Kos the serpent, and to inflict such pain that-

What appeared before the priest as he entered the throne room was the last that he could have expected! Instead of a helpless captive in a cage, he saw a massively muscled barbarian, holding a massive sword, and armored from head to foot with the best bronze armor of Kemet.

“Ho, priest- I’ve awaited your arrival. Have you come to avenge your snake?” And Wulf laughed gustily, in real pleasure. To his mind, this priest was just another snake in human form, one that he would be happy to hack asunder.

The priest Amosis, to his credit, did not blanche or panic. The full flood of his sorcerous powers was upon him, after all- he merely raised his serpent staff, and grinned maliciously as the twin beams of red shot from those glowing serpent eyes at the barbarian.

However, Wulf was prepared. As the beams shot forth, he produced the final piece of his armor- a highly polished shield of bronze, with a mirror-like finish- the twin scarlet lights struck the shield, and reflected backwards.

With a most unwizardly bound, Amosis the high priest of Kemet barely avoided the twin blast- not so did his treasured staff! The double beams of death from the eyes of the serpent coiled about his magical staff reflected back on that very staff- and it sprang into flames, and disintegrated in the priest’s hands.

Amosis screamed, and invoked all of his powers. Rage beyond that of humankind flooded his countenance, and a nimbus of red light played about his head, like an unholy halo. Vengeance would be his; not only for Kos, but also for his staff, which had been acquired from a demon of the night, long ago and at great price.

Even Wulf drew back, briefly, from the incredible violence of that awful scream. That is what saved his life, as a huge ball of flaming scarlet flew from the priest’ hand, directly where his head had been briefly before.

The flaming ball shot past the barbarian, and evaporated the wall behind him; a wall of solid marble that disappeared into nothing, leaving a gaping hole in the wall of the palace.

At this very moment, King Den entered into the throne room, his retinue behind him. “Oh, there you are Amara,” he said, spying his queen within the room. “But what-”

He broke off, since nothing was as he expected it to be! He expected his usual throne room, a barbarian to torture in a cage, and his complacent, golden-haired wife sitting quietly beside him…

Instead- here was that same barbarian, clad in armor and holding a sword, while his priest (of whom he was more than a little afraid), was actually rising up into the air, a flaming fireball of bright red forming in his hand, confronting that barbarian- and strangest of all, here was his complacent wife he had got from Hellas, armored from head-to-toe similarly to the barbarian, and looking at him with defiance!

Many men would have reacted with rage, or defiance. King Den, longtime king by inheritance of a dynasty of kings- fainted straightaway. So did several of his retinue, just behind him. The rest, just scattered and ran!

Amosis the priest was so consumed with rage and righteous anger, that he positively relished his position. Here he was, at the height of his powers, rejuvenated and ready to inflict the ultimate revenge. He had lost his pet, Kos, it is true- but there were other gaunts of darkness that he could bring down to replace her- even his precious staff could be replaced, but vengeance was paramount now…

He felt the power build in his hands, the red balls built within both hands now- there was nowhere this inconsequential northern barbarian could go to escape his magical might! Relishing the moment, he drank in the dark power, the power from between the stars that he had absorbed, and smiled- hideously, as the golden bronze clad Wulf ran directly towards him, sword in hand, ready to slay- he drew back both arms- there was no escape now- that worthless barbarian would die-

All thought ceased then, as a spear blossomed from the back of Amosis. In the height of his powers, he had felt invulnerable- and nearly was! But he had never suspected the queen of Kemet, the lovely Amara of the Hellenes, to have any agenda at all- women in Kemet were of a lower order, they had no plans or anything other than obedience to consider…

But then, all thought ceased, as Amara, ex-queen of Kemet, pulled her spear from the back of the priest, putting her foot on his back to help pull. Her armor gleaming reddish gold, she looked over at Wulf, also clad in bronze.

“I thought his blood would be black- my people say wizards blood is, but it’s red.”

Back to the North

Looking down at the king, who had fainted, and over to his wife, queen Amara, Wulf knew what they should do.

“I need to take my people, and get out of this benighted land. Wizards, kings- Bah! I need none of either. A clean sword, a clean land is what I need, as do all of our breed. Will you join us?” He was speaking to Amara, standing like Athena in golden armor, as was he- a barbaric Apollo.

Amara paused, thinking as her race was want to do. ‘Overthinking’, as Wulf thought it. He was ready to plunge his sword into the king, lying on the floor senseless.

“Nay,” said Amara, divining his intention. “He is a harmless fool, through no fault of his own. Let him live.”

“But he will set soldiers on our trail, if he lives,” said Wulf, but even he looked doubtful as he looked at the flabby backside of King Den. He had never been one who preyed on the helpless- he would have thought it as being like a carrion eater- a jackal. Wulf was not one of them!

Amara came up to Wulf, and gazed into his eyes. They were like two gods of Northern mythology, armor clad and ready for battle. They embraced, and Wulf spoke:

“You are right- let’s just be rid of this infernal place! Black arts, snakes and courtiers- I want none of it. Palaces and thrones- rot and decadence- too much government, which is politicians sucking the lifeblood of the people. TAXES! Just blood money, I say- let’s head north, to Hellas, where the people rule themselves.”

Amara nodded, and the two of them strode off, back to the campsite of the Allemani, to reorganize those that were left.

Within that campsite, the dispirited remnants of the Allemeni saw this vision as they approached- a golden warrior, and his queen, entering their shattered lives, ready to lend leadership and direction to them all. They let our a paean of gratitude, and knew that in future all would be well.