Lord Polvark was no warrior. He was a statesmen, a great reformer, beloved by the citizens of the Empire for his tender care to their needs and welfare; despised by an Emperor whom only cared for the iron fist of oppression. His assignment at Castle Rivergate was nothing short of a collection of negative variables and circumstances. As the battle raged on around him, he took time to reflect upon his life. He had no sons, or daughters - nor a wife. Lord Polvark was a demonic creation, or so his father had often told him, for his love was for other men. Whilst not a crime in the Empire, homosexuality carried an intense stigma, especially amongst the ruling classes. Perhaps if, as his father had put it, he was born "normal", then he could have risen to greatness. Though, as another of his Praetorians fell with a cleaved neck, the Lord of Castle Rivergate wondered why he had burdened himself with life at all. Had he ever known happiness? Denied his parents' love, scolded by an Emperor who sought to see his people suffer needlessly, and now abandoned in his moment of greatest need by the Gods of old - Gods that he had dedicated a great deal to, and at great risk, to receive deliverance. Why should he fight? Why should he waste his lifeblood upon the blades of his enemy, terrified and helpless, when he could just submit? Snatching the silver trumpet from his sergeant-at-arms, whom stood beside him nervously as the battle turned against the Praetorians, Lord Jaques Polvark, son of Frandalmir the Great, heaved the strength of his lungs into the mouthpiece. A piercing sound echoed through the hall, drowning out the sound of bloody slaughter and dancing weapons. The Praetorians, understanding the signal as one of retreat, backed away from the melee and locked their shields. Their enemy pursued them, but they maintained formation as they circled their master in a protective ring. Lord Polvark shrugged off his sergeant's grip, and pushed his way to the front of his men. Throwing his ancestral sceptre down at the foot of the hulking giant; the hastily emerging Empire's greatest threat, he bowed his head. "My castle is yours. Do what you will with me, but I ask you to spare those who have fought tirelessly to keep this fortress in the hands of its rightful owner. Their courage and bravery should be apt price, for their safe return to Imperial lands. If you are a warrior of any honour at all, you will pay me this small mercy," he said, with a wavering voice. "My Lord," hissed the sergeant. "Do not soil your name in the quagmire of surrender. Die proudly, with the Emperor's name on your lips." "I will not have any more of my men die protecting me," shot back Lord Polvark. "Our cause is lost, we have been bested. Now carry out my final order, and throw down your weapons - all of you!" The Praetorians hesitated; caught between instinct and duty. One by one, they chucked down their swords and spears. Many closed their eyes, expecting at any moment a foriegn blade to pierce their exposed bodies, or a mace to implode their skull. Stepping forwards, Lord Polvark was not attacked by the barbarians, even as they yelled their jeers and curses at the surrendered Praetorians. He unclipped his armour, and threw the chest plate to the ground. "Do we have terms?" He asked the giant. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Antonius shrugged at Rinack, "how many families did you destroy in your path of so called justice? How many orphans, widows and bastards did you create? The Empire would have brought enlightenment to the far reaches of the world, were it not for your selfishness; for your blinded rage. Prepare to die, Rinack." Summoning his power, Antonius threw out an open palm. Rinack's memory shattered around them, as if made from glass, until they both stood in a black void. He hefted his staff, and pointed at the warlock. "Let us end this; the Emperor has no command over my magic here," he spat. A large ball of orange flame, twisting and turning, appeared at the head of his simple oaken staff. As the seconds passed, it grew larger, until it was the size of a small child. "DIE!" The ball of flame shot forwards, directly towards Rinack. Antonius smiled victoriously; expecting any moment that the last of his enemy's mental defences would crumble.