A Grey Warden: A Short Story

"Honestly, I don't plan to kill you," Charles murmured, stepping past Brandon with the anti-necrolyze rifle in his hands. "You took away my ability to take care of my family, so I guess it's just fair if I do the same to you. Now, you get to feel the helplessness I've experienced." And he walked away with a guffaw. "How satisfying!"

"They're is nothing to be afraid of, nothing to fear" I then noticed the very large kitchen knife in his hand.

“He wanted to help. He was a leader and he wanted to help and combat injustice,” she said.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Now you’re going to slide your pistol toward me, and if you try anything, my men will kill you.”

He let out a chuff of laughter. "...it's kinda funny, Gize." he withdrew the dagger from his pocket, it was old but well maintained, "the same guy responsible for making us leave, in a way he's also responsible for getting us home." A tear rolled down his cheek.

“If I’ve learned anything from cases like these, it’s that people will kill for just about any reason,” he offered as a means of

“H-hey, kid… You have to get out of here” The old janitor sputtered, as he coughed blood all over his uniform. “It’s not safe anymore” The janitor spat a large globule of blood to the floor. “Take this knife and run, there’s nothing here for you now.” The janitor pulled free a long silver dagger from the inside of his uniform, and handed it over to Tristin.

“I do.” Ulrich patted his calf, to which his knives were strapped. “You have your hand axe, I see.”

Jack was on top of the sow, stabbing downward with his knife. Roger found a lodgment for his point and began to push till he was leaning with his whole weight. The spear moved forward inch by inch and the terrified squealing became a high pitched scream. Then Jack found the throat and the hot blood spouted over his hands. The sow collapsed under them and they were heavy and fulfilled upon her...

He was amazed at the scorching wind that erupted from the forge and the resounding clang of metal on metal. He observed as Avery swung his hammer into a glowing sword which threw glowing sparks across the room. Nodding toward Ironias Avery finished the sword and thrust it into a pool of some liquid. Noticing the state of Ironias’ armor Avery dragged him over to a wall and grabbed a gleaming set of armor. Thrusting Ironias the chest plate he told him to switch suits. Ironias equipped the new suit of armor after it was adjusted to him. Each piece was made of hardened iron, which was hammered into place by Avery’s hammer. On the shoulder pieces there was a capital “A” connected to a smaller “A”. Blacksmiths had an autograph for their equipment he figured that this was his. Ironias unsheathed his sword, or more accurately what was left of it. The sword had been shattered halfway down the blade. Avery gave a look of surprise at the immense damage done to the sword. After all, he had made it. Ironias responded “You should see the other guy”. Nodding in acknowledgement Avery walked into a back room with the shattered sword. In a minute he returned with a broadsword. It was a plain steel blade and crosspiece with a hand grip made from wood covered in leather. It had a plain leather sheath. “I’ll fix your blade. Maybe you won’t break this one while I do!” Avery said with mock anger. He always enjoyed a challenge. After

Gemma made an angry noise in the back of her throat, and glanced down at the man in her arms. "Sir... and I mean this in the most respectful way, but really, this man has just been run though by a foot long jagged... arm... sword.... thing... after battling a dragon and an entire army of orcs, and he's got maybe twenty minutes to live. For fucks sake, don't ask questions, just grab his goddamn feet!"

“I ought to kill you where you stand,” he snarled. “You really think your father cares about you? He barely remembers you!” I shrug. “Do you really want to take that chance, sir?” He rises, and for a moment, I think he’s about to make good on his

“What will you do to them? They broke the peace treaty. What will be their punishment?”Braden asked.The father didn’t answer just then, but thought for a minute.

“To what purpose? How could I face them?” His response was quiet and devoid of emotion, but the gentle tremble of guilt glided along the surface.

One of his hand rested on the blackened wound he inflicted earlier while he reached for more oil. "If I try to get what I want from you through force, I'll create unnecessary headaches for myself and waste time."