Jacques felt ecstasy and sorrow in equal measure, as his body gorged itself on primal energy. Instincts had swamped his rationale, and it seemed to him that he had forsaken a lifetime commitment to peace and compassion for a bloody hour of battle; killing and dying for a cause he no longer savoured, for an Emperor he no longer favoured. The savage giant, riddled with injures as he was, came to Jacques in a speed that defied his stature. 

[i]"Why is mother crying, father?" 

"You know why, you little shit, you ungrateful fucking demon spawn!" 

"Father, I don'-"

"I SAW YOU, did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"What did you se-"

"To think, Frandalmir the Great, famed warrior and legendary commander, sprung from his manhood an afflicted brat. How the Old Gods mock me." [/i]

The giant's fist surged forwards as if carried by a tempest, and Jacques for the first time realised his peril. He was no warrior, he had floundered through this fight on a mixture of adrenaline and forlorn hope. His enemy, towering above him, and constructed from the souls of a thousand warriors like a patchwork quilt of fallen heroes, was going to kill him. There was nothing to be done. Jacques closed his eyes, and clenched the axe tightly with both hands. It would be over soon. 

[i]"Polvark! Polvark! Polvark!" 

The crowds lined either side of the street, making way for an immaculate chariot of burnished steel and prized mares. 

"Polvark! Polvark! Polvark!" 

Pox ridden faces, with toothless mouths, yelled their applause to the man that had broken the Emperor's heavy taxes. [/i]

Jacques brought the axe up at the last second, and his enemy's fist, almost as large as his head, crashed into the weapon's shaft. The sheer force of impact was enough to send him flying several feet until the solid stone of the keep's wall broke his flight. He fell to the floor in a heap; his body surged with lightning, as his muscles and bones quickly registered the innumerable busted blood vessels and torn fibres. 

[i]"The Emperor will not take kindly to your popularity with the mob, he will see your charitable actions as an effort to undermine him." 

"The Emperor is not as pitiful or as tyranical as you think, Wizard, he favours my actions, he has told me so." 

"I have known that man since he was a child, if there is one thing he does not favour, it is someone whose name is shouted more than his." 

"Enough. I have two more hospices to visit before the day is done, we will talk of this later." [/i]

Curse the Emperor. That aged, withered crone with half the mind worthy of his station. People could sing to the high heavens that it was the Emperor's Bane, that brought the Empire to its knees, but in truth it was all traceable back to that one miserable wretch. If only Jacques had been in a position of strength, if only he had seen the world for what it was those few years ago, then maybe he could have made a difference. Had his assignment to the Empire's frail frontiers been the result of his inaction? 

The giant stalked towards him mockingly, stopping to show a hint of disappointment that Jacques had given up the fight too early. He struggled to his feet, and saw with dismay that the axe was out of his reach. He looked down at his fists, and clenched them. 

"We fight as equals, barbarian, and the Gods will decide who is stronger," sneered Jacques. He spat blood and teeth onto the tiles beneath him, and stalked forwards. 

The giant seemed almost amused at Jacques' suicidal proposition, though there was also something else in those evil eyes; respect maybe? He grunted, and moved to meet him. A large fist came down from above, and Jacques moved to avoid it, coming across on the giant's left and launching his own into the monster's rippling torso. They were good, strong hits, but they were ultimately ineffectual. Jacques scooted backwards, avoiding a clumsy counter jab. He noticed that the giant appeared to be tiring, and even his feet were starting to lag with the accumulation of his many injuries. Seizing the advantage, Jacques shot forwards, ducking another powerful but ill-coordinated swing, and brought his right hand up into the giant's chin. 

The impact made an audible click, and the giant stumbled backwards. Jacques could hardly believe his luck, and for the first time since the fight had started, he saw a window for victory. It was narrow, and horribly blurred - but it was there. He moved in again, but this time the giant did not swing; instead he seized Polvark by the shoulder and lifted him off the floor with a snarling growl. Jacques fought desperately for release, and wailed on the giant's face with several hooks, but the iron grip did not ease - it only tightened.