In the Land of the Linnorm Kings… a mockery of a trial with a real execution.

In the Land of the Linnorm Kings… a mockery of a trial with a real execution.

The smoke hazed feast hall had been cleared its oval chamber lit by a hole atop the roof to let out the fire pits emanations’. A shaft lit Vognar, kicked to his knees by burly guards, a large block of wood and chains held his immense arms securely aloft.

“We are here to convene on a troubling matter. One of our own thru his actions has precipitated a war without the approval of the fates and this council!”

The large salt and pepper haired Ulfen, richly dressed, orator gestured to the Kings on the far side of the room, sitting in the shadows.

Darkly regarding the young Ulfen whose head hung low in shame, “This impetuous WHELP, has taken it upon himself to claim a prize out of a noble she elf, further precipitating the ire of the elves of Celwynvian.” Nodding gravely to Lythar who sat like stone to the side of the dark room with other lookers on.

“The world regards us as savages, and this warriors actions and those of ‘his men’ have damaged relations and trade with a friendly nation who we wished nothing but peace”.

‘Peace and trade’, scoffed the elf. Not less than a hundred years ago the Ulfen horde poured into Meirani Forest for looting and pillaging. Most likely this very mans grandfather.

‘Hypocrites’ Lythar mused.

The orator listed many other felonious flaws in Vognars character none of which Lythar had noticed even since capturing and nearly killing the Orodae several months ago.

The only real fault his people could levy against the Ulfen is foolishness that bordered on suicidal tendencies when it came to lack of wisdom in decisions. Trespassing in Elven lands does not warrant death, and although he did not kill a single elf in their forest, he did lay with a noble elven woman, of her own accord, again not a crime where the penalty of death would be warranted, a sound thrashing and banishment from their lands.

The thought of the barbarian and a noble elf lying together still repulsed Lythar. He only glimpsed the sanity of her choice the day Vognar told Lady Evianna and the council of Lords, he would take the blame for the deaths of the Elves of Crying leaf and keep their private war with the Dark Elves secret even unto his death.

‘Impressive for one so young and foolish, this is what the Orodae must mean by ‘Noble Savage’.’
Lythars reverie was broken by the change in tone among the Ulfen, a dangerous change.

‘This did not look good, many of the Kings where there all but the actual one who led his men onto Mierani shores uninvited, Ingimundr the Unruly King of Bildt. That means no one would speak on his behalf.

Speaking in their strange mix of bastardized dwarven / Varisian the leaders debated Vognar’s fate and Lythar could only make out every third word.

The accuser and orator leaned forward to hear the counsel of King’s decision; his large frame went rigid as if not expecting the verdict.

With less pomp to his gate the old warrior stood before Vognar grave tone, “Vognar son of Gilbere and Valda you have been judged by this council to be guilty of all the crimes listed and although the elves of Celwynvian have spared you we will grant them justice to keep the peace between us”.

“The punishment is DEATH, by beheading”! Shocked roar of voices filled the room of on lookers, never has a Ulfen been meted out death for the attack on a non-ulfen, it has been their right to die in combat with honor.

Cries of the unruly crowd only magnified the shocked expression on Lythars face, for the first time Vognars head raised and their eyes met. A strange, look of pain mixed with resignation played across the young condemned orodae.

The room was being cleared by the councils soldiers, Lythar noted the orator leaning forward quietly talking to the young man, a hand on his shoulders comfortingly.

“Is there nothing you wish to say to your defense, my son”?

“I know you, this situation is not of your making, speak truth and they will reconsider”!

Vognar’s blue eyes welled, setting his jaw, “Forgive me father but I have given my word, I cannot speak to my defense on this, I will see you in the afterlife”.

Shaking his head at his boy, the old warrior, his accuser and father stood eyes locked with his son nodding to him, Gilbere father of Vognar strode from the hall to drown his pain in mead and comfort his wife.

Lythar sat frozen during their exchange, only his acute hearing could pick up their words.

As Vognar was led to away, await his execution the following day.

‘By Ketephys, I cannot let this happen’; a plan was forming for Lythar one that would surely be as foolish as the young Ulfen he captured and would now release.